"Then we must get down to see the pictures by all means," answered Jack.

"That is, if the storm lets up. If it keeps on raining I don't think any of them will show up."

"Let's go in for a little gymnastic work," cried Randy, and had soon shed his cap and his coat. He leaped up to one of the turning-bars, and was soon busily going through various gymnastic evolutions. His twin joined him, and then they did a little team work, much to the admiration of some of the others present.

"How about a swing from one bar to the next?" called out Ned Lowe. Ned was known as the chief singer of the school and was very handy with a mandolin.

"All right, Ned; I'll swing against you," called Andy quickly.

"Not much!" was Ned's ready reply. "I know you can beat me. See what you can do against Walt Baxter."

Walt Baxter was a clean-cut athletic youth who had made good in various contests in the gymnasium and on the baseball and football field. He was the son of Dan Baxter, who at one time had been a bitter enemy of the older Rovers. But the senior Baxter had reformed, and his son was well liked by the younger Rovers.

"All right, Walt," called out Andy. "Do you want to swing against me or against my brother Randy?"

"I'll swing against both of you," answered Walt pleasantly.

The details of the little contest were quickly arranged, and it was decided that Randy should make the first swing, Walt the second, and Andy should come last. The swing was to consist of a flying leap from one bar to the next, and then to a large pad spread beyond the second bar.

"One try only now, remember!" cried Dan Soppinger. "Do your best, everybody."

It did not take Randy long to get into position, and then he made a swing and a leap which were gracefulness itself. He landed on the pad lightly, but quite close to the second bar.

"I'm sure I can do better than that!" cried Walt Baxter; and in less than a minute he too had made the swing, landing half a foot beyond the mark set by Randy.

Andy eyed the distance carefully, and then prepared to make the swing.

"Here's where I do the flying-fish act!" he cried merrily.

"What's going on here? A contest? Let me see it!" came a voice from behind the crowd that had a.s.sembled to see the performance. Then Henry Stowell, a small cadet who was a good deal of a sneak, pushed his way to the front of the gathering.

"Hi, Codfish, what are you trying to do?" exclaimed Ned Lowe, who had been elbowed rather rudely by the small cadet.

"I want to see what's going on," cried Stowell.

"All right, Codfish, take it in for all you're worth," called out Fatty Hendry, and then put out his foot and pushed the sneak of the school forward.

It was a vigorous shove, and in order to keep himself from pitching headlong Henry Stowell took half a dozen quick steps forward. Andy was just in the act of launching himself from one bar to the next when Stowell's forward movement carried him to a point directly between the two bars. As a consequence Andy's feet struck the smaller cadet in the shoulder, and both went down in a heap on the floor.

"Stop! Stop! What are you trying to do--kill me?" yelled Stowell, as Andy came down on top of him in anything but a gentle fashion.

"I'd like to know what you are trying to do, Codfish?" demanded Andy, using a nickname for Stowell which the latter abhorred.

"I didn't do a thing! Fatty Hendry tried to trip me up."

"And you shoved your way in where you had no business to be," retorted Fatty. "Just the same, I'm sorry he got in your way, Andy," he added.

"Are either of you hurt?" questioned Jack quickly.

"He spoiled my jump," answered his cousin.

"And he kicked me in the shoulder and knocked me down," whined Stowell.

"I've a good mind to report him."

"What! After all we did for you in the woods last Winter?" demanded Fred. They had found Stowell with Werner and Glutts and had rescued the little cadet from the bullies and seen him safe on his way home.

"I don't care! My shoulder hurts terribly," whined Stowell.

"Never mind, Codfish, we'll give you a mustard plaster to put on it,"

cried Ned Lowe. And then in some confusion the sneak of Colby Hall withdrew from the crowd.

"I don't suppose you feel like trying the swing now," remarked Walt Baxter to Andy. "If you want to call it off, all right."

"Not much!" was the quick reply. "I got pretty well shaken up by hitting Codfish, but just the same, I'm going to make the swing." And a moment later Andy did so.

"And he wins!" declared Dan Soppinger, after measurements were made.

"He's a good six inches ahead of anybody!"

"Well, some time we'll try it again, and then maybe I'll be able to do better," remarked Walt Baxter good-naturedly.

"I'm afraid you've made Codfish sore on us once again," remarked Jack to Andy, after the little contest had come to an end and the cadets were breaking up into various groups.

"If he is going to get sore over that he can do it," retorted Andy.

"I supposed he would be real friendly after all we did for him up in the woods last Winter," remarked Fred.

"Well, that shows what's in a fellow is bound to come out sooner or later," answered Randy. "Codfish always was a poor stick, and I suppose he always will be. Just the same, I did hope he would turn over a new leaf."

When the cadets awoke on Sat.u.r.day morning a pleasurable surprise awaited them. The storms of the weeks previous had completely pa.s.sed, and the sun was shining over the hills most gloriously.

"Oh, but isn't this the best ever!" cried Randy, after glancing out of the window.

"It's simply scrumptious," retorted his twin; and then to show how good he felt, Andy turned a flip-flap over his bed. Then he caught up a pillow and threw it through an open doorway at Fred, who had just started to dress.

"Hi, you! what's this--a bombardment by the Huns?" yelled Fred, and promptly returning by sending a sneaker at his cousin. But the footwear struck Randy, who promptly returned the missile and followed it up with a book and a wadded-up towel.

"Hi, you fellows! stop the rough-housing!" shouted Jack. "Do you want to be reported?"

"Who's going to report us--you?" questioned Andy.

"No. But some monitor will, or some teacher. And then a fat chance you'll have of going to Haven Point this afternoon."

"Oh, that's so. We don't want to have our off-time cut off," put in Randy quickly. "The war's over, the armistice is signed, and everybody can go home and get washed up," he added, with a grin.

But while he was speaking Andy had advanced upon Fred, and now the two started to wrestle. Jack tried to stop them and in the confusion the three upset a small stand, sending a dozen or more books to the floor with a thump. Almost immediately came another thump on one of the doors leading to the corridor.

"Now we've done it," whispered Fred, in sudden alarm.

"Pick up those books! Quick!" answered Andy, and got down on his knees to do so while Jack righted the stand which had held the volumes. At the same time Randy leaped to pick up the pillows and otherwise straighten the connecting rooms which the Rovers occupied.