tly, Dave. But I got word through Ben Basswood's
cousin that Nat had told Ben he wasn't going to let you ride over him
this term. I think Nat is jealous because you were so successful in
that trip to Cave Island."

"Did you learn of anything Nat intended to do?" questioned Roger,
curiously.

"No, excepting that he said he wasn't going to play second fiddle to
your crowd any longer. He tried to get into a quarrel with Ben, but
Ben would have nothing to do with him."

"Did Nat go back to the Hall when it opened?" asked Phil.

"Yes, the same day Ben went back."

"I am not afraid of Nat Poole," declared Dave, stoutly. "He is a
bully, always was, and I suppose he always will be. I tried to do him
a favor the last time I saw him--but he doesn't seem to have
appreciated it."

"Laura!" called a musical voice, from the stair landing.

"Coming, Jessie!" answered Laura. "Now you boys, hurry--lunch will be
served in a few minutes;" and she left the room.

"So Nat Poole wants to make more trouble, eh?" mused Dave, as he
resumed packing. "What a chap he is! Why can't he be decent and mind
his own business?"

"Because he isn't that breed, that's why," answered Phil. "He hates to
see another fellow become popular. Dave, you take my advice and watch
him, when we get back to school."

"I'll do it," answered Dave, thoughtfully.

CHAPTER II

A GLIMPSE AT THE PAST

"Everything ready?"

"Yes, so far as I know."

"Then we are off! Good-by, everybody!"

"Good-by! Take care of yourself, Dave!"

"I will!"

There was a tooting of an automobile horn, a chorus of cries and
cheers, a waving of caps, and then the big touring car that had been
drawn up in front of the Wadsworth mansion rolled from the piazza
steps through the spacious grounds; and Dave Porter and his chums were
once more on their way to boarding school.

To those who have read the previous volumes of this line of stories
Dave Porter will need no special introduction. For the benefit of new
readers allow me to state that Dave was a wideawake American lad, now
well along in his school years.

When a small child our hero had been found one day, walking along the
railroad tracks near the town of Crumville. He could tell nothing
about himself, and as nobody came to claim him, he was taken to the
local poorhouse, where he remained a number of years. Then he was
bound out to a broken-down college professor named Caspar Potts, who
was farming for his healt