ed my Greek book, out fell one of those horrid bills! And
then I dropped another bill on the platform, and--oh, it was awful!
I'll never forgive you, Tom Rover, never!" And William Philander
stalked away, still clutching the poster in his hand.

"Poor William Philander!" murmured Sam. "It was rather a rough joke,
Tom."

"Oh, it will do him good," was the answer. "He's too uppish to live."

"Yes, he wants some of the conceit knocked out of him," added Stanley.
"But come on, if we are going for a walk, let us get started."

"Wish I had been in the classroom to see the fun," mused Tom, his
old-time grin overspreading his face. No matter how old Tom got he'd
never give up his boyish pranks.

The crowd of students were soon on the way in the direction of the
Sanderson farm. But at the first turn in the road they left that
highway, and following a path across a pasture lot, plunged into the
depths of what was known as Lanker's woods. Through the woods ran a
fair-sized stream of water, and at one spot there was an old dam and
the remains of a saw mill, now going to decay.

"Sam, don't you wish you had the old _Dartaway_ back," remarked
Stanley, presently. "You used to cover this part of the country pretty
well with that flying machine?"

"I've never wanted it back since it got smashed up on the railroad
track," was the answer. "Flying was good enough, but I don't think I
was cut out for a birdman."

"I'd like to go up again some day," put in Tom. "But not regularly.
I'd rather travel in an auto, or behind a fast horse."

"Give me a horse every time," said Songbird. And then he warbled
softly:

"To rush along at railroad speed,
In auto, or on wings of air,
Is well enough for some, I think,
To make you jump and make you stare.
But when I journey roundabout,
I'll take a horse, or maybe two,
And then I'll--I'll----"

"And then I won't bust any tires
And walk home feeling pretty blue!"

added Tom. "Say, that's right, Songbird, although you can't burst
tires on a flying machine," he added.

"That isn't just the way I was going to finish the verse," said the
would-be poet. "But it will do."

On went the boys, deeper and deeper into the woods, chatting gaily and
occasionally singing snatches of college songs. Sam kept close to his
brother and he was glad to note that Tom was acting quite like his old
self.

"What he needs is plenty of fresh air and rest from studying," tho