ade him one of those unfortunate boys who
suffered now and then from persecution. Irving learned afterwards that
the crowd he had met in Westby's room hung together and were the leaders
not merely in the affairs of the dormitory, but of the school.

At half past nine the big bell on the Study building rang twice--the
signal for the boys to go to their respective rooms. Irving had been
informed of the little ceremony which was the custom; he stepped out in
front of his door at the end of the corridor, and one after another the
boys came up, shook hands with him, and bade him good-night. Westby came
to him with the engaging and yet somewhat disquieting smile which
recalled to Irving Mr. Wythe's words, "He smiles and smiles, but is a
villain still." It was a smile which seemed to suggest the discernment
and enjoyment of all one's weak spots.

"_Good_-night, Mr. Upton," said Westby, and his voice was excessively
urbane. It made Irving look forward to a better acquaintance with both
expectancy and apprehension.

The first morning of actual school work went well enough; Irving met his
classes, which were altogether in mathematics, assigned them lessons,
and managed to keep them and himself busy. From one of them he brought
away some algebra exercises, which he spent part of the afternoon in
correcting. When he had finished this work, the invitation to witness
the water duel occurred to his mind.

He found no other master to bear him company, so he set off by himself
through the woods which bordered the pond behind the Gymnasium. He came
at last to the "isthmus"--a narrow dyke of stones which cut off a long
inlet and bridged the way over to a wooded peninsula that jutted out
into the pond. On the farther side of this peninsula, secluded behind
trees and bushes, was the swimming hole.

As Irving approached, he heard voices; he drew nearer and saw the bare
backs of boys undressing and heard then the defiances which they were
hurling at one another--phrased in the language of Ivanhoe.

"Nay, by my halidome, but I shall this day do my devoir right worthily
upon the body of yon false knight," quoth Westby, as he carefully turned
his shirt right side out.

"A murrain on thee! Beshrew me if I do not spit thee upon my trusty
lance," replied Collingwood, as he drew on his swimming tights.

Then some one trotted out upon the spring-board, gave a bounce and a
leap, and went into the water with a splash.

"How is it, Ned?" calle