"Such spreads are usually paid for in advance," answered Jason Sparr, shrewdly. He did not intend to take any chances with schoolboys.

"All right, here is your money," answered the shipowner's son, and brought forth one of the two crisp twenty-dollar bills his father had mailed to him, with the good news of his fortune.

"Tell him about the music," suggested Ben.

"Oh, yes, I thought I'd have Professor Smuller furnish some music--harp and violin."

"Fine! They can sit in the alcove, and we'll put some of our palms around them," returned Jason Sparr.

"Remember, this is for next Sat.u.r.day night, seven o'clock sharp," said Phil.

"I've got it down," returned the hotel proprietor, as he wrote in his book.

"And don't say anything to anybody about it. I want to surprise my friends."

"Very well, mum's the word," and the hotel man looked very wise and knowing.

Leaving the place, Phil and Ben sought out the home of Professor Smuller, a violinist, who, with a friend who played the harp, often furnished music for dances and other occasions.

"Yes, yes, I can furnish music," said the violinist. "Just tell me what you want." Business was slow and he was glad to get any sort of an engagement.

The matter was explained, and the professor promised to be on hand and bring the harpist with him. He said he could play anything the students desired, including the well-known school songs. He would fill the engagement for the boys for eight dollars, although his regular price was ten. But he would have to have cash in advance.

Again Phil paid out his money, and then, the business concluded, he and Ben left the professor's home and hurried along the road leading to Oak Hall.

"Have you made up your list yet?" asked Ben, when nearing the school.

"Not quite. I'll have Dave and Roger and Shadow and Buster, of course.

I'll have to leave out some fellows, but that can't be helped. I can't afford a spread for the whole school."

"Of course you can't."

"I think I'll have Luke and Sam, and maybe Gus and Chip."

As the boys drew closer to the school Ben had to stop to fix his shoe.

Both sat down on some rocks, at a turn in the road. They were about to go on again when somebody made the turn of the road, coming from the town. It was Nat Poole.

"h.e.l.lo! you been to town?" cried Ben, good-naturedly.

"Yes," answered the money-lender's son. "Haven't I a right to go if I want to?" he added, and then hurried on ahead of them.

"Rather peppery," mused Ben. "Say, Phil, there is one fellow you won't invite, and I know it."

"Right you are, Ben," was the ready answer. "All I ask of Nat Poole is, that he leave me alone."

But Nat was not to leave Phil alone, as events were quickly to prove.

CHAPTER XIII

THE CABIN ON THE ISLAND

"Dave, come on out for a row. You haven't been on the river this year."

It was Gus Plum who spoke. He was out in one of the craft belonging to Oak Hall, and hailed our hero as the latter was strolling along the river-bank.

"All right, Gus!" Dave cried, cheerily. "I don't know but that a try at the oars will do me good, after the hard studying I've been doing."

"You are bound to get a high-water mark this term, aren't you?" went on Gus Plum, as he brought the rowboat up to the dock, so that Dave might get in.

"I'd like to graduate with honor, yes."

"What are you going to do after you leave here, Dave?" went on the big youth, as the two rowed up the river.

"I don't know yet. Have you made up your mind?"

"Oh, I think I'll go into business, but I am not sure."

"You won't try for college?"

"No. You see, I don't make much of a fist at learning, so what's the use? But I love business--buying and selling things."

The two boys continued at the oars until the vicinity of Oak Hall was left far behind.

"If we only had a power-boat we might run up to Squirrel Island,"

remarked Gus.

"Perhaps Nat Poole will lend you his motor-boat," suggested our hero, with a little grin.

"Humph! I'd not ask him," returned the big youth, promptly. "I am done with Nat Poole. I want to stick to my new friends." And the former bully of the school fairly beamed on Dave, who had done so much to make him reform.

"Have you seen the motor-boat this season, Gus?"

"Yes, Nat got it out two days ago. I think he is on the river now."

The boys rowed on, until they came to a bend where there was something of a cove. As they rounded the point they heard the steady put-put! of a gasoline engine not far off.

"There is Nat's craft now!" cried our hero, and pointed ahead.

"He's all alone," was Plum's comment. "He can't have many friends these days, or he'd have some of them along."

"I'd hate to be without friends, Gus, shouldn't you?"

"Yes, indeed! But it's Nat's own fault. If he'd only drop his important airs and be more sociable, he'd get along all right."