Chapter 3 THE ADVICE OF BRUCE

The silence amid the group of Tom's friends, punctuated at first by the exhaust from the car, was finally broken by Bert Wilson, who asked:

"Well, Tom, what do you think of that?"

"I don't know what to think," was the answer, given slowly. "It gets me!"

"And it does all of us," added Jack. "In the first place, I never thought Sam and Nick would have the nerve to come back, but since they had, I surely thought they'd cave in when they saw we meant business."

"So did I," agreed Bert. "But since they haven't, what's to be done?"

"There's only one thing," decided Jack. "We've got to expose 'em, that's what!"

"Sure!" cried George Abbot, getting a bit excited. "Let the whole school know what they did to you, and I guess that will end things for them at Elmwood Hall."

"It seems to be the only way," agreed Tom. "Of course I'm out of it, in a way, for they didn't keep me locked up In the old mill, with nothing but bread and water. But they did Bert and Jack, and that's the same thing. And there's Dick to be thought of. Of course he isn't an Elmwood lad, though he may be soon, for he wants to come here. But I feel that I ought to take his part."

"Sure!" chorused Jack and Bert, while the former added grimly: "We're on the job, and can look after ourselves. You can represent Dick, Tom, and we'll form a combination."

"To run them out of this school!" exclaimed Bert with energy.

"That being the case," went on Tom, "we'll have to consider the ways and means of doing it. Of course Nick, being a Junior, isn't in the same class with Sam. If it had been two Juniors who acted the way those fellow did I don't know that we would have such a kick coming, but when a member of your own class turns against you it's time to do something!"

"Hurray!" cried George. "What are you going to do, fellows? Will you let me in on it? Will you haze 'em? Say, you'll let me have part in it; won't you?"

"Hold on, George!" begged Tom with a smile. "Just shut off your gas, throw back your spark, and put on the brakes. You're skidding a bit."

"Aw, say, I want to be in on it," begged the small chap earnestly.

"Oh, you will be all right," Jack assured him.

"The whole Sophomore class will be in it when we give those fellows the lesson they need."

"I'd-I'd like to---" began Bert energetically as he clenched his fists and look at the departing car, which was now almost hidden in a cloud of dust. "I'm going to---"

"Hold on," broke in Tom soothingly. "Let me prescribe for you, Bertie my boy," and taking his arm he steered his chum around and toward the little shack where Pop Swab held forth.

As they filed into the little building two other school lads passed by.

"What's going on?" asked Bruce Bennington, one of the twain.

"Oh, it's Tom Fairfield and some of his chums," answered Morse Denton.

"I don't know just what the row is, but I heard that Sam Heller and

Nick Johnson played some kind of a mean trick on Tom and Bert and Jack

this summer. I don't just know the particulars."

"That's so," agreed Bruce. "I did hear something about it. Feel like having some pop?"

"Not now, and if any of those fellows expect to make the eleven this fall I'll have to make them cut it out."

"Right! How's football coming on?"

"Oh, I've got some good material, and I expect more when the new fellows begin to arrive."

"Going to play Tom Fairfield?"

"I sure am, if he'll train properly, and I think he will. I want him for one of the backs. He's a sure ground gainer, quick on his feet, he holds the ball fast and he can kick well."

"I hope he makes good," went on Bruce. "Well, I'm going to cut away.

I want to see the doctor, and arrange about my studies."

The two strolled over the green campus, arm in arm, and they had hardly gone a dozen steps before, from the little store of Pop Swab, there come pouring Tom and his friends, all talking at once.

"That's what we'll do!"

"A class matter of it-sure!"

"We'll work the Coventry game to the limit!"

"And if it comes to a fight--"

"They'll get all they want!"

These were only a few of the remarks that came to the ears of Bruce and

Morse.

"Something doing back there," remarked the football captain, nodding his head toward the rear.

"Yes," agreed Bruce, "and I don't like it, either."

"Why not? It's only Tom and his chums talking over what they're going to do to Sam and Nick, I expect."

"Yes, and that's why I don't like it."

"Why not?" asked Morse.

"It may have a bad effect on the whole school. Class disputes always do. If a class doesn't hang together---"

"They'll hang---" began Morse, about to perpetrate the old joke of "hanging separately," when Bruce laughingly interrupted with the remark:

"Now that'll do you. There's a five spot fine for using that classic so early in the season. But you know what I mean. It won't do to have class dissension."

"No, you're right. But maybe it will work itself out."

While Bruce and Morse went their ways, Tom and his chums, talking excitedly, went to Tom's room. He had some new rods and a gun he wanted to exhibit, but, most of all, he wanted to give his friends the whole history of the summer's adventures.

"Now go ahead," invited Joe Rooney, when they were all seated, more or less comfortably, on the beds and chairs in the room of the three chums. "Let's have the whole yarn."

And Tom began, telling the story of the secret of the old mill. He had not proceeded far ere there came a knock on the door.

"Come!" invited Tom, after a moment's hesitation, during which he recalled that, as the term had not officially started, there could be no danger from prowling monitors, or suspicious professors. The door opened and Bruce Bennington entered.

"Hello, Bruce, old stock!" greeted Tom, rising and holding out his hand. "Glad to see you! Here, some of you fellows get up and give one of our betters a seat."

"Not a one! Not a one!" exclaimed Bruce, holding up a protesting hand.

"The floor's good enough for me."

But several chairs being offered by admiring Sophomores, who knew how to appreciate one of the best-loved lads in Elmwood Hall, Bruce accepted a seat.

"Go ahead, Tom," he suggested. "Don't let me interrupt the festivities. I don't want to be the skeleton at the feast."

"Oh, I was only telling the fellows how Sam and Nick acted this summer," proceeded our hero. "And, as I was saying," he resumed, "they captured Bert, Jack and my friend, from home, Dick Jones.

"They sneaked up on 'em while I was away from camp, mauled 'em something fierce, and tied 'em up. Then they held em prisoners for several days---"

"On bread and water," interrupted Jack. "Don't forget that, Tommy my boy!"

"That's right," added Bert with a sorrowful sigh at the recollection.

"I was nearly starved before you rescued us."

"And that's what they did," concluded Tom, telling the final details. "Now the question is, what had we better do to such cads when they come back to school and expect to be treated decently? What ought we to do?"

There was silence for a moment, and then Bruce Bennington asked quietly:

"May I say something?"

"Surest thing you know!" came promptly from Tom.

"Then I'm going to give you a bit or advice," went on the older lad. "You may follow it, or not, but I feel it's my duty to offer it. And it's this. I've heard the whole story now, and I know how you fellows must feel. But my advice is-to do nothing at all to Sam and Nick."