LITMIR.BIZ

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Maybe you are right," mused the shipowner's son.

      Phil had perfected all his arrangements for his spread at the hotel, and his guests for that occasion had been duly invited and all had accepted the invitation. It had been arranged with Mr. Dale that the boys should drive to the hotel in the school carryall, and Horsehair was to have his supper in town and, later on, bring them home. No secret was made of the affair, for this was not necessary.

      "I am only sorry for one thing," said Phil to Dave. "That is that I can't have the whole school there. But that would go beyond my purse."

      "Well, you'll have enough, Phil, to insure a good time," answered our hero.

      The night was clear, with numberless stars glittering in the heavens, when the carryall drove around to the Hall door and the boys piled in. All were in the best of humor, and they left the campus in a burst of song.

      "I've been saving up for this!" cried Ben. "Haven't eaten a mouthful for two days!"

      "Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "Once a poor street-boy was invited to a Sunday-school picnic. The ladies fed him all he could hold and then some. At last, when he couldn't eat another mouthful, and saw some cake and pie and ice-cream going to waste, what do you suppose he said?"

      "Give it up, Shadow."

      "He said, 'Say, missus, please save it fer me, won't yer? I won't eat fer a week, honest, an' then I'll come an' finish it all up fer yer!'"

      "Good for the street-boy!"

      "Say, Phil, you won't have to save anything for me! I'll eat my share right now!"

      "I've been in training for this feed!"

      "Shove the horses along, Horsehair; we don't want the soup to get cold."

      "I'm a-shovin' 'em along," answered the carryall driver. "We'll git there in plenty o' time."

      "Say, Phil, as far as I am concerned, you can have this affair pulled off once a month," remarked Buster.

      "Make it once a week," piped in Chip Macklin. And then Luke Watson commenced to sing a popular negro ditty and all joined lustily in the chorus.

      On and on rattled the carryall until the lights of Oakdale shone in the distance. The boys continued to sing, while one or two blew freely on the tin horns they carried. Here and there somebody would come rushing to a window, or door, to learn what was doing.

      "It's them Oak Hall boys!" cried one old farmer. "My, but they do have high times!"

      "So they do," returned his wife. "But they are good boys," she added, for some of them had once aided her in capturing a runaway bull.

      With a grand flourish the carryall swept around the last corner and came to a halt in front of the hotel. Phil had hoped to see some extra lights lit and was somewhat disappointed to see only the regular lantern burning.

      "I told him to light up freely and he said he would," he whispered to Dave.

      "Maybe he thought you meant the dining-room, Phil."

      The students piled out of the carryall and waited for Phil, as host, to lead the way into the hotel. All marched up the steps and into the broad hallway. There they were confronted by the hotel proprietor, who came to meet them in his shirtsleeves. He looked completely bewildered.

      "Well, we are here for that supper, Mr. Sparr!" cried Phil. "I hope you are all ready for us!"

      The hotel man looked at the boys in amazement. His jaw dropped. Then he gasped out the words:

      "Well, I'll be jiggered!"

      CHAPTER XV

      AT THE HOTEL

      At once Dave and all the other students who had come to the hotel with Phil, expecting a fine spread, saw that something was wrong. They looked questioningly at the shipowner's son and at the hotel proprietor.

      "What's the matter?" demanded Phil, quickly.

      "Matter?" repeated Jason Sparr. "That's just exactly what I'd like to know."

      "You--you are ready for us, aren't you?" went on Phil, with a sudden catch in his voice.

      "Why should I be ready, when you called the whole thing off?" growled the hotel man. "Fine way to do, I must say," he continued, with strong anger in his voice.

      "Called the whole thing off?" repeated Phil. "Me?"

      "Yes, you!" shouted Jason Sparr. "And after we had everything in fine shape, too! Say, don't you think my stuff is too good to send to the Old Ladies' Home?" he demanded.

      "There must be some mistake here, Mr. Sparr," put in our hero. "Phil didn't call this spread off. We are here for it, as you can see."

      "But he did call it off--this noon," returned the hotel proprietor. "And he wasn't a bit nice about it, either. When I asked him what I should do with the extras I had ordered he told me to do as I pleased--send 'em to the Old Ladies' Home, or throw 'em away! He didn't act a bit nice."

      "Say, you chump, you!" shouted Phil, growing suddenly angry. "I didn't send you any word at all about calling it off. I----"

      "Don't you call me a chump, you young rascal!" shouted the hotel man, in equal heat. "I got your message over the telephone----"

      "I never sent any," interrupted Phil.

      "It must be a trick," cried Roger.

      "Who played it?" queried another student.

      "Maybe this is the work of some of the Military Academy fellows."

      "Like as not."

      "But how did they learn that Phil was going to give the spread?"

      "Give it up."

      "Maybe some of our own fellows did it--some who didn't get an invitation to attend," suggested Chip.

      "Would any one be so mean?" asked Buster.

      "Some of them might be," murmured Gus.

      "I didn't send you any word," went on Phil, in greater anger than ever.

      "Well, I got word, and so did Professor Smuller. He was mad, too, because he lost another job taking yours."

      "Why didn't you make sure the word was sent by Mr. Lawrence?" demanded Ben. "You could have done that easily enough."

      "I didn't think that was necessary. This fellow said----"

      "I tell you I didn't send word!" shouted Phil, growing more angry every instant. "You might have known it was a trick."

      "Of course, he might have known," added Ben. He lowered his voice. "Say, Phil, if he doesn't give us the supper make him give your money back."

      "Sure he's got to give me the money back," cried the shipowner's son.

      "See here, you can't bulldoze me!" cried the hotel proprietor. "I've had trouble enough as it is. I got ready for this spread and then you called it off, and you were mighty sassy about it, too. I've lost a lot of money."

      A wordy war followed, lasting the best part of a half an hour. Through this it was learned that the hotel man had prepared for the spread, and so had the professor of music. Just after noon telephone messages had come in, calling the whole affair off. Some hot words had passed over the wire, and the hotel man was considerably ruffled. The party talking to Jason Sparr had said that when the spread did come off it would be held elsewhere--intimating that a better place than his hotel could be found.

      "It's all some trick,

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