"I should say so," added Bert.

"The worst ever," added Jack. "After we help you put out the fire, and practically saved your barns and horses, you come and make trouble like this. You're a peach, you are!"

"Don't you give me none of your back talk!" snapped Mr. Appleby. "I know what I'm doin'."

"Yes, and I suppose you did when you charged us ten dollars for a little corn," said Tom.

"That's all right," replied the farmer, doggedly. "I'll find out who sot that fire, and I'll have th' law on 'em, student or no student.

An' I'll find out who lost that pin."

"Good luck to you!" called Bert sarcastically.

"Maybe you lost it yourself," said the farmer quickly. "Will you show me your pin, an' will you swear you wasn't away from the school early in th' evenin' of the fire? Will you?"

"I sure will!" exclaimed Bert, "and here's my pin," and he showed where it was fastened on his sweater that he used to throw over his broad shoulders when resting from football practice.

"Where's yours?" demanded Mr. Appleby, turning to Tom and Jack.

Bert, who was looking at Tom, fancied he saw a start on the part of his chum. There was just the suggestion of a flush under the tan of his cheeks, and then he answered:

"It's in my room probably. I don't wear it all the while."

"Neither do I," added Jack quickly. "I haven't mine on. Maybe I lost it."

"Why, Jack!" began Bert. "I saw your pin on you this af------"

He subsided quickly, for, as Tom turned aside Jack administered a swift kick to Bert, at the same time hissing into his ear: "Shut up, you chump! Why do you want to bother answering a fellow like him?"

"Oh--er--all right," stammered Bert, and he looked from Jack to Tom, wonderingly.

"All right. You may think you're smart, but you'll find that th' law's smarter than any of ye!" threatened the farmer, as he turned aside with a scowl.

"Nice sort of chap--not," murmured Tom, as he strode on, his companions hurrying to catch up to him.

"I should say so," agreed Jack. "Why, any fellow might lose his pin--not necessarily at Appleby's hay stacks--and that, in his eyes, would make him guilty. I don't even know where my school pin is at this moment."

Once more Bert looked at Jack, and he wondered much, for he was sure he had seen Jack's pin gleaming on his sweater a short time before the farmer appeared, and yet now Jack said he did not have it.

"It's too much for me!" murmured Bert. He was not much given to solving puzzles, and this one was beyond him. Why had Jack pretended not to have his pin, when all the while Bert was sure he had seen it?

Could it be that------?

"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Bert, to himself. "I'm not going to get into deep water over this. I'll wait and see what happens."

And, though he did not know it, much was to happen soon.

It was soon noised about the college that Farmer Appleby had made a "crack" about his hay fire, and great was the indignation of the lads.

"After what we did for him, he ought to be glad enough to keep quiet, if we burned half a dozen stacks!" exclaimed Reddy Burke, the genial Irish lad. "Sure and it's meself would tell him that same if I got a chance," Reddy always lapsed into the idioms of his forebears when he grew excited.

"Oh, it isn't worth bothering about," declared Bruce Bennington.

"Appleby is naturally sore at losing some of his crops, for he's a regular miser. I know him of old. Every time something happened on his farm he always complained that we boys did it or had a hand in it."

"And did you?" asked Tom.

"Sometimes, but oftener not. Don't let it worry you. He's only looking for money. I'll wager if he was to be paid for his hay, and if he knew who set fire to it--if any one did--he'd keep quiet and compound the felony. Forget it."

It was about two weeks later, just prior to the first match football game of the season, that Bert and Jack, coming in from practice which Tom had left earlier because of a slight injury to his shoulder, found their chum busy with bottles and test tubes in their room.

"Whew! What a smell!" cried Jack, as he opened the door. "What in the world be you a doin' of, Tommy, my boy?"

"Oh, working out some physics problems. I'm a bit back in my work."

"n.o.ble youth! I ought to be doing the same thing. My! but I'm dry.

Got any ice water? What's this?" and Jack caught up a gla.s.s filled with a colorless liquid.

"Here! Drop that!" cried Tom, quickly. "That's had cyanide of pota.s.sium in. There may be some in it yet. If you want to go to an early grave, taste it."

"Not on your life!" gasped Jack, a bit white. "But you shouldn't leave such stuff around carelessly, Tom."

"I didn't intend to. I didn't think you fellows would be back so soon.

I'm just cleaning up. I'm done now. How did practice go after I left?"

"Oh, we shoved the scrub all over, and made two more touchdowns. Say, though, I hope you can play Sat.u.r.day," and Jack looked anxiously at Tom.

"Oh, sure I can play. I just didn't want to get laid up, and that's why I pulled out. I'll play all right."

The Elmwood regular eleven was being whipped into good shape by captain and coach, and to their delight our three friends were promised places for the first match game of the season.

It was a night or two before the game when Jack, who had been to town, came back with an evening paper.

"I say!" he exclaimed, looking it over before the summons to supper, "here's more trouble for our friend Appleby."

"What is it?" asked Tom quickly, looking up from a book.

"Why, it seems all his horses were poisoned night before last, all six of 'em. And they found traces of a white powder in the mangers this morning."

"Really?" cried Bert.

"Sure. Here's a long piece in the paper about it."

"Are they dead?" asked Tom.

"No, but it says it's doubtful if they'll get better. I say, I s'pose he'll make another row now, and charge some of us fellows with doing it," and Jack pored over the item.

"Why will he?" asked Tom.

"Because--Oh, just on general principles I fancy. Or he may find another school pin. I guess I'll put mine in a safe deposit box--when I find it," and Jack laughed, but there was no mirth in his voice.