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Jack Straw was walking slowly down the maple-lined avenue that led from the campus to Phillip’s Hall, the largest of the two dormitory buildings connected with Drueryville Academy, and judging from his many near collisions with the aforesaid maples, not to mention hitching posts, stepping blocks and pedestrians, it was evident that he was not looking where he was going. Indeed his nose was buried in the latest and final edition of The Blue and White, the school’s weekly, and he was devouring the contents of the page headed “Track and Field” eagerly. The various individual and team records for the year were set forth there in black-face type, and Jack, having been captain of the football team the previous Fall and no mean performer on the school’s track team during the Spring, was rather keen to learn just how many times his name was mentioned on that particular page.

But before he had consumed a quarter of the reading matter, a real collision resulted. He was just about to turn the northwest corner of Phillip’s Hall when there was a scurry of feet, and before he could look up some one hurrying at top speed swept around the corner. Instantly the air was full of arms and legs, the copy of The Blue and White accompanied by several school books, went speeding down the graveled path and a moment later Jack found himself seated on the ground and feeling for the exact spot on the back of his head where the west wall of the dormitory building had hit him. Six feet away sat tiny Tommy Todd, also feeling for injured places and trying at the same time to regain his breath.

“Jiminy—puff—puff—crickets, what’er you gettin’ into a fellow’s—puff—puff—way like that for, Jack?” demanded Tommy.

“Well, how on earth— Say, why don’t you blow your horn when you are making a corner at top speed? I didn’t know you were coming,” returned Jack, scrutinizing the brick wall for dents. “Jiminy, I think if I had hit just a little harder, Phillip’s Hall would be minus a few bricks.”

“Huh, that’s nothing to the amount of gravel I’ll be carrying round with me for the rest of my life. Bet there is a peck of it jammed into my head,” returned Tommy, rubbing his head solicitously.

“Well, why the hurry, anyway, Tommy?” asked Jack, as they stood up and began to brush themselves off.

“Why, I was looking for you, Jack—I—”

“Found me quicker than you expected, didn’t you?”

“Yes and no; that is, when I discovered you weren’t in your room I decided you might bob up most any place—and you did—”

“Well, what’s wanted of me in such a hurry?” demanded Jack.

“What is wanted? Oh, nothing, only there are about a half dozen fellows over in your room waiting for you. Did you forget that there was a special meeting of the ‘D’ Club called for this afternoon? The meeting is in your room at three o’clock, you know.”

“No, I hadn’t forgotten only—say, it isn’t three o’clock yet, is it?” asked Jack, somewhat surprised.

“Oh, isn’t it?” demanded Tommy, as he exhibited his watch.

“Jingo-netties, it’s half-past three. I was so interested in The Blue and White that I forgot to hurry. Come on back, Tommy, and we’ll have the meeting started immediately,” said Jack, and seizing the diminutive catcher of the baseball team by the arm, he hurried him at top speed back toward the broad entrance of Phillip’s Hall.

Seven members of the “D” Club, the organization composed of honor boys at Drueryville Academy, were occupying Jack’s room when he pushed open the door.

“Well, good evenin’, sir; did you call to tea?” demanded Harvey Maston sarcastically as Jack entered.

“Why didn’t you keep us waiting until midnight?” called Cory, as he put down the book he had been reading.

“What’s the matter—fall asleep in the physics lab?” demanded Buck Miles.

“No, fellows, I plum forgot what time it—Hi, quit.”

“O-o-o-o-o-h, forgot,” roared every boy, and a moment later Jack was busy ducking sofa pillows that were being hurled in his direction.

“Well, now that you have subsided,” said Jack when the lads were out of ammunition, “the meeting will come to order.” He rapped on the top of the center table with his knuckles for lack of a gavel and assumed an air of dignity befitting the president of the school’s most important society.

“As I understand it,” he said, “this is to be a special meeting for a general summing up of the athletic situation at Drueryville next year. Am I right?”

“Right-o,” said Tommy Todd.

“Well, gentlemen, we will proceed. First, the baseball situation claims our attention. Tommy, how are things going to shape up next year with your outfit?”

“The outlook never was better,” said Tommy, cheerily. “Out of the nine regulars on this year’s team, only two will be graduated and they are both outfielders. I’ve men in the substitute squad that will take their places all right.”

“Fine,” said Jack. “How about the track team, Harvey?”

“Well, I’m not complaining,” said the captain of the cinder athletes. “The outlook could be better. Graduation isn’t going to knock a hole into my list of runners, but I do wish that the freshmen who come in next Fall would include a couple of good sprinters. We need a good point winner for the dashes. Also we need a shot putter. Hanson goes out this year, as you know. He’s been our only hope in the weight events for two years now. Wish I could find another 170-pound sixteen-year-old like him.”

“Huh, if he knocks a hole into your prospects, think how he cripples me up,” said Jack, who had been reelected to captain the football team next year. “He’s been the only full-back Drueryville has had in years. I don’t know where I’m going to get a man like him. There isn’t a fellow in the scrub squad that can play in the full-back position and not stumble over his own feet. The freshmen will surely have to show up mighty well in big boys to make me feel happy next year.”

“Jiminy, that does put a kink into your eleven, doesn’t it?” exclaimed Tommy Todd.

“‘A kink?’ Why, man, it ties a regular knot into our chances for the championship trophy, let me tell you. We’ll never be able to make it three in a row with Seaton without another Hanson in the line-up,” insisted Jack.

“Aw, cheer up. Don’t be so down in the mouth about it. Perhaps we can find one for you this Summer. I’ll look for one among the stone cutters down Bethel way, when I take my job in the granite quarries this vacation,” said Cory, who was eager to have the meeting over with so that he could resume the book he had been reading.

“Huh, you needn’t bother,” said Jack; “the full-back you’d pick out would come onto the field with a fiction book under his arm. Well, Dink, how’s the hockey team going to shape up?”

“Oh, we’ll be there with an A1 team next year. Every man in the line-up. Pretty good, eh?”

“Well, I’m in the same shape. The basketball team will be composed of four of this year’s regulars and Wefers, who played substitute forward all this year. I’m not worrying,” said Cory gruffly, without even looking up from his book.

“That leaves me the only captain in want of a good man, doesn’t it?” said Jack. “Well, you fellows take Cory’s suggestion and keep your eyes open during the Summer for a likely full-back for me, will you?”

“You bet we will. I’m going to spend my Summer working in a hotel over in the Green Mountains. I may run into a good man there, you can’t tell,” said Chris Gibson.

“That reminds me, Tommy,” said Harvey Maston. “Did you accept that job with the contractor? You said you were going to work all Summer on the new hydro-electric plant over in New York State.”

“Yes, I go over there the first of July for two months. What are you going to do, Harvey?”

“Going to work for my father in his paper mill. There’s room for another fellow over there. How about you, Jack? Got a Summer job yet?”

“No,” confessed Jack, “I haven’t. I thought perhaps I might help out father in his marble quarries. But I guess he won’t be ready to open ’em up for three or four months.”

“Well, why not come over to Bordentown and work in the paper mills? We could have a corking time together and you would learn a lot about paper manufacturing. Of course if you can get a chance to go to Mexico again, or something as interesting as that, I wouldn’t advise you to accept my offer. A paper mill isn’t as lively as a power plant besieged by rebels, but then a job is a job, you know.”

“Well, perhaps I might accept your offer, Harvey. I’ll think it over. You see, I—”

“Mis-ter John-n-n Monroe-e-e Strawbridge! Strawbridge!” shouted some one down in the street.

Jack’s head bobbed out of the open window immediately.

“Here. Right here,” he called.

“Tele-gum fer Mis-ter Straw-bridge,” came the sing-song answer.

“Telegram!” exclaimed Jack. Then he shouted, “All right, bring it up! Third floor, Room Thirty-two.”

“Huh, what’s this? Some more mystery?” demanded Tommy Todd as Jack left the window.

“You know as much about it as I do,” said Jack, somewhat disturbed.

A moment later the lazy tread of the messenger boy could be heard on the creaking stairs. Then came a knock.

“Come in,” shouted Jack and the door was pushed open to admit a blue clad messenger of diminutive proportions, whose hat was cocked at a rakish angle on his head.

“Day letter. Sign on dis line here,” he said laconically, as he handed Jack the stub of a much-used pencil.

Jack signed hastily and the youth scuffled out into the hall, forgetting entirely to close the door. But the captain of the football team did not notice this. With trembling fingers he was tearing the end off the yellow envelope, while the rest of the boys looked on in wonder.

As Jack unfolded the telegraph blank his face took on an expression of great concern. But as he began to read, this expression changed to a smile of delight. Finally after he had finished, he exclaimed,

“Hi, fellows, listen to this. Talk about luck. Guess I won’t accept your offer for a job in the paper mill, Harvey. I have one that is almost as good as a trip to Mexico. Here, I’ll read all about it.”

Dear Jack:

On our way up from Mexico last Summer I told you of certain work that I expected to do for the Lighthouse Bureau. Part of that work is now to be undertaken. I am to build a lighthouse on Cobra Reef, Hood Island, Maine. I know that you are interested in engineering and therefore I am holding open a job as clerk in the building crew. If you want the position wire me at once and report at Jefferson Hotel, Portland, Maine, on Tuesday afternoon. This will make a Summer vacation position in which you can earn a little money and learn a great deal about marine engineering. If you haven’t anything better to do be sure and come along.

Yours truly,

James Warner,

Lighthouse Bureau, Washington, D. C.

“If I haven’t anything better to do,” jeered Jack. “Huh, could there be anything better to do?”

“Talk about downright good luck,” said Harvey Maston.

“When do you start? Next Tuesday. Eh! Three days from now.”

“That’s going to be quick work. I’ll have to get Dr. Moorland to excuse me several days before school is officially closed for the Summer, but I haven’t any more exams to keep me here. I guess I’ll go over and see him now. I may leave first thing to-morrow morning if Dr. Moorland will let me off. I would like to spend a day or two with my dad and talk the matter over with him.”

And taking his hat, Jack left Phillip’s Hall for a hasty visit to the principal’s cottage in the maple grove across the campus.