en though he had not
wished to spend his time that evening in such a manner.

"This may be a jolly," he told himself; "if I were to stay away the
fellows would have a horse on me sure."

Creighton had a beautiful tenor voice, and as they started out beneath
the elms, he sang:

"I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth--I know not where----"

Danny Griswold seemed to take a fiendish delight in giving a humorous
twist to anything sentimental, and so he interrupted with:

"The next day a man came around
And sold me dead dog at a dollar a pound."

"If that were original I wouldn't mind," said Creighton; "but you got it
from some star vaudeville performance, you little runt."

"That's where I get all my gags," frankly confessed Griswold. "I store
them up for use, and they come in handy some time."

"Some time, when you spring a stale joke, I shall be led to assassinate
you," declared Bruce Browning.

"Impossible!" cried Griswold. "That would be a crime."

"Well, what's the odds?"

"You are too fat to commit a crime."

"How is that?"

"It is difficult for fat persons to stoop to anything low, you know."

"You seem to find considerable amusement because I am somewhat
overweight," said Bruce, with attempted severity.

"Not at all," chirped Danny. "Some men are well enough in their weight,
but this doesn't apply to coal dealers."

"Say, Griswold," called Rattleton, "what's the average fate for a
wool--no, I mean the average weight for a fool?"

"A simple ton," replied the little fellow, quick as a flash.

Frank clapped Danny on the back.

"Good boy!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Rattleton didn't get ahead of you
that time."

"It is hard for anybody to get ahead of me," declared Griswold. "I am
really a lively man in a footrace, for my father is a watchmaker, and he
has given me instructions in the business."

"I fuf-fuf-fuf, fail to see huh-huh-how that applies," said Joe Gamp, a
lad with a serious impediment in his speech.

"Why, you see I have learned how to make good time," chuckled Danny.

Gamp roared with laughter. He was a big, raw-boned, hulking fellow from
New Hampshire, and his laugh was like the braying of a mule. Creighton
had invited Gamp to the theatre for the amusement the country lad would
provide.

"He'll break the performers all up if he ever gets started laughing,"
said Charlie to Merriwell. "When he gets going in good style nothing
will stop him."

There was