"You will be glad to learn that Mr. Loveland, one of our lawyers, has gotten a settlement for Mrs. Breen out of your teacher, Mr.

Haskers. He had quite a time of it, Haskers declaring that he did not owe as much as the widow said he did. The lawyer said he would sue for the full amount, and then Haskers came to see him. Mr.

Loveland says the teacher wanted to learn who had hired him to stir the matter up, and mentioned some students' names. But the lawyer gave him no satisfaction at all, and at last Haskers paid up in full, took his receipt, and got out. I instructed Mr.

Loveland to put his charges for services on our bill, so Mrs.

Breen will get the entire amount collected. I am going to take it to her in person, and see to it that it is wisely invested for her benefit."

"Good!" cried the senator's son. "That will help the old lady a great deal."

"Say, I'll bet old Haskers was sore when he forked over that money,"

was Ben's comment. "No wonder he's been looking like a thundercloud lately."

"Yes, and he'd let out on us--if he dared," said Phil. "But he doesn't dare."

"Don't be too sure of that, Phil," said Dave, seriously. "There is no telling what he will do--later on, when he thinks this affair has blown over."

"Humph! I am not afraid of him," declared Phil, recklessly.

"If he tries any of his games we'll expose him," added Ben.

"Better go slow," advised Roger. He, too, felt that Job Haskers might become very vindictive.

Spring was now at hand, and a week later came the first baseball game of the season. It was a contest with Esmore Academy from Daytonville and held on the Oak Hall grounds. Quite a crowd was present, including some of the town folks. Gus Plum was in the pitcher's box for the Hall, and Sam Day was on first base, and Chip Macklin on third.

"I hope we win!" cried Dave.

"I hope you do," answered Vera Rockwell, who was present with some other girls. "But why are you not playing?" she went on.

"Not this term," said our hero, with a smile, and then he spoke of his studies.

"I suppose it is n.o.ble of you to give up this way," she said.

"But--I'd like to see you play."

The contest proved a well-fought one, and was won by Oak Hall by a score of eight runs to five. At the conclusion there was a great cheering for the victors.

"This means bonfires to-night!" cried Roger, as the gathering broke up.

"Yes, and a grand good time!" added Buster Beggs.

CHAPTER XI

BONFIRE NIGHT AT THE HALL

It was certainly a night long to be remembered in the annals of Oak Hall,--and for more reasons than one.

At the start, several bonfires were lit along the bank of the river, and around these the students congregated, to dance and sing songs, and "cut up" generally. None of the teachers were present, and it was given out that the lads might enjoy themselves within reasonable bounds until ten o'clock.

"Let's form a grand march!" cried Gus Plum. "Every man with a torch!"

"Yes, but don't set anything on fire," cautioned Roger.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "A fellow went into a powder shop to buy some ammunition. He was smoking a pipe, and the proprietor----"

"Whoop! Hurrah for Shadow!" yelled somebody from the rear, and the next instant the story-teller of the Hall found himself up on a pile of barrels which had not yet been set on fire.

"Now then, tell your yarns to everybody!" came the cry.

"Speak loud, Shadow!"

"Give us all the details."

"Tell us the story about the old man and the elephant."

"No, give us that about the old maid and the mouse."

"Let us hear about the fellow who was shipwrecked on the Rocky Mountains."

"Or about how the fellow who couldn't swim fell into a flour barrel."

"Say, what do you take me for?" roared Shadow. "I don't know any story about the Rocky Mountains, or a flour barrel either. If you want to hear----"

"Sure we do!"

"That's the very yarn we've been waiting for!"

"Say, Shadow, won't you please tell it into a phonograph, so I can grind it out to my grandfather when I get home?"

"Is that the story that starts on a foggy night, at noon?"

"No, this one starts on a dusty day in the middle of the Atlantic."

"Say, if you fellows want me to tell a story, say so!" grumbled Shadow. "Otherwise I'm going to get down."

"No! no! Tell your best yarn, Shadow."

"All right, then. Once two men went into a shoe store----"

"Wow! That's fifty years old!"

"I heard that when a child, at my grandson's knee."

"Tell us something about smoke, Shadow!"

"And fire. I love to hear about a fire. It's so warm and----"

"Hi! let me get down! Do you want to burn me up?" yelled the story-teller of the school, suddenly, as, chancing to glance down, he saw that the barrels were on fire. "Let me down, I say!" And he made a leap from the barrels into the midst of the crowd.