eep near the trail.

"I--I'll get even with you fellows for this. Can't you let me alone?" he
cried.

Reaching the spring they held him by the feet and soused him into the
icy water head first, thrusting the fat boy in until his head struck the
hard bottom. He was howling lustily, howling and choking, when his head
was out of water.

"You'll need your 'old ombrell' when we have done with you," cried Ned.

"You will wake us up at this hour with your unearthly screeching, will
you?" demanded Tad.

"I reckon the Professor will give you a spanking for disturbing his
morning slumbers," added Walter Perkins.

"That's enough, fellows. Remember the water is cold," warned Butler.
"Let him go."

They took Tad literally. They did let the fat boy go. He landed on his
head on a hard rock when they let go of him, and Stacy rolled on his
back yelling lustily.

"Look out! There comes the Professor Stacy."

Walter shouted the warning just in time. Professor Zepplin, stern of
face, gorgeous in a pair of new pajamas, a stick in one hand came
stalking toward the group. Stacy saw him coming. The fat boy bounded to
his feet in a hurry. He was especially interested in the cedar limb with
its sharp broken points, grasped so firmly in the right hand of the
Professor.

"I reckon I'll see you all later," muttered Chunky as he made a bolt for
his tent. Either some one tripped him or he tripped himself. At least,
he measured his length on the ground just as the stick came in contact
with his body. It was not a hard blow, but merely a tap of reminder. The
Professor was now smiling broadly.

Stacy leaped to his feet and ran, howling at the top of his voice, and
threatening dire revenge on the Professor. Professor Zepplin was plainly
undismayed, for he pursued with strides that made the merry onlookers
think of the seven-league boots.

"Say, can't we arbitrate, without an appeal to force?" bellowed back
Stacy as he reached the tent.

"We cannot," boomed the Professor's deep voice. "This is an instance in
which the punitive expedition must go through."

_Whack! Whack!_ That stick played a tattoo that made Stacy sore in
more senses than one. Instead of burrowing deeper into the cedar boughs,
he got up hastily. In his desperation he seized the Professor's feet,
giving a mighty tug at them.

"Here, stop that!" protested Professor Zepplin, laughing.

He reached for the fat boy, but Chunky, with a new exertion of his
strength, brought