"Down!" ordered Tom.

"What on earth made the men sneeze?" demanded d.i.c.k, gazing around sharply.

"Smells like pepper," replied Major Larry Colby, who was close at hand.

"Would anybody be mean enough to use that?"

"Perhaps."

"Up!" cried Rockley once more. "Pull! pull! pull!"

His team gave a savage haul as ordered, and up came Tom's men in spite of themselves. Then began a tug of war in dead earnest, with the rope nearly three feet in the Rockleys' favor.

CHAPTER XXII

A SWIM AND SOME SNAKES

The majority of the cadets were now inclined to think that Rockley's team would win the contest. They had seen Tom's followers sneezing, but thought this might come from the dampness of the ground.

"Don't give in, Tom!" cried Sam, dancing around. "You've got to beat him!"

"Bah! you act like a monkey," said Lew Flapp. "Rockley's fellows are bound to win."

In the meantime the rope was moving rapidly backward and forward. Once Rockley and his men had Tom's team dangerously close to the line. But Tom ordered a drop and there the team clung, refusing to budge an inch further.

"Time is almost up," said George Strong. "Three minutes more!"

"Up!" cried Rockley.

"Up and pull for all you are worth!" cried Tom. "Pull, I tell you! Make every ounce of muscle count!"

And pull Tom's team did as never before, and Tom with them, watching for the first sign of returning weakness. But the team was now on its mettle and made the Rockleys come over the line in spite of the frantic orders from Rockley himself to drop.

"It's ours!" screamed Tom, and with a final haul brought the opponents over the line with a rush. Rockley, flat on his back on the gra.s.s, trying in vain to dig his heels into the soil, and the others floundering just as vainly.

A cheer went up for Tom's team, while Rockley and his followers left the field in disgust.

"It was well won, Tom!" said d.i.c.k enthusiastically. "I never saw a better tug of war in my life."

"I'd like to know who threw that pepper," answered Tom, with an angry glance toward Lew Flapp and his cronies.

"Did somebody throw pepper?" asked Mr. Strong.

"I think they did, although I'm not sure. Anyway, something came along and made the most of us sneeze."

"It's too bad, Rover. I'll try to make sure of this," said the teacher.

But though he made an investigation nothing came of it.

Some of the cadets were so delighted with the success of Tom's team that they took Tom on their shoulders and marched around the entire encampment with him.

"I tell you, Rockley feels sore," said Sam, a little later.

"Around the belt?" asked Tom with a grin.

"I mean in his mind. He and Lew Flapp are having a regular quarrel over the contest. I guess Flapp lost some money."

"Perhaps, if he has, it will cure him of betting," put in d.i.c.k.

Sam and Tom had received permission to go to the upper end of the lake in one of the rowboats on the following afternoon. Songbird Powell and Fred Garrison went along, and all took their fishing outfits and plenty of bait.

"Bring home a nice mess of fish," said d.i.c.k, on parting with his brothers. "Sorry I can't go with you."

"Oh, you'll have company enough," declared Sam. "I heard that some of the country folks are going to visit the encampment to-day and perhaps those Staton girls will be among them."

The four boys were soon on the way, two rowing at a time. The weather was ideal, and the water as smooth as that of a mill pond.

"What a beautiful spot this is," declared Fred, as they glided long.

"I'm sure Captain Putnam could not have selected a better."

"I have already gotten some splendid pictures," returned Powell, who possessed a good snap-shot camera, now lying on the stern seat of the boat. "I'm going to take some more pictures to-day."

On the way to the upper end of the lake Sam did a little fishing and brought in one ba.s.s of fair size.

"This makes a fellow feel like a true poet," murmured Powell, gazing dreamily at the water, and then he went on:

"I love to glide, By the green-clad side Of the gla.s.sy lake, And there to take My ease with book Or line and hook, And spend the day Far, far away From care and toil, On Nature's soil."

"Just to listen to Songbird!" cried Tom. "He grinds it out like a regular sausage-making machine," and then he went on gayly:

"I love to swim, In Nature's soil, By the green-clad side, Of a mountain wide, And there to bake, My little toes, On a garden rose, And take a hose, And wet the lake With a hot snowflake, In the middle of June-- If that isn't too soon-- And sail to the moon In a big balloon--"

"Oh, Tom, let up!" roared Fred. "Talk about a sausage-making machine--"

"And when in the moon, I'd drive a stake, And tie my lake Fast to a star, Or a trolley car, Then jump in a sack And ride right back--"

"To where you belong, And stop that song!"

finished Sam. "Oh, but that's the worst yet. Shall we duck him, Fred?"

"No, don't pollute the water," answered Garrison.

"He ought to be ducked," came from Powell, in disgust. "Whenever I have a poetic streak--"

"It's catching, as the fly-paper said to the fly," finished Tom. "Let's call it square and take a new tack. Who's in for a swim when we reach the end of the lake?"