Comrades on River and Lake

Commencement days were coming, and soon the members of the first class would leave Winton Hall to return no more. They were a fine lot of boys, verging into manhood, and Commandant Cullum was proud of the fact that he had been instrumental in turning them out with a military training and good education to face the battle of life.

Vacation was but a week away when one afternoon Fleet Kenby dashed into the room occupied by his chums, Chot Duncan and Tom Pratt.

"Sh----" he cried.

"Well, what?" interrupted Chot.

"Yes; what?" echoed Tom.

"Well, I wanted to tell you fellows that----"

"Well, why don't you tell us?"

"Yes, don't get that old habit of cutting off your sentences just when you've aroused our curiosity."

"Give me a chance to----"

"Surely; take it!"

"Help yourself, old boy. If you see any chances lying around loose, absorb them."

"Now, see here," said Fleet, "you've tried this game on me several times and I'm getting tired of it."

"He's tired of our game," said Chot, with a glance at Tom.

"He's tired of our game," said Tom, returning Chot's look.

"Comes in here arousing our curiosity, then refuses to tell us what he's getting at."

"Then says he's tired of our game."

"I don't see any game."

"Neither do I."

"Well, I do," fumed Fleet. "I won't tell you now; I'll get out of here--that's what I'll do."

He made a dash for the door, but Tom blocked the passage.

"No, you don't," said he. "You're going to tell us what you came in to tell us, whether you want to tell us or not. Make up your mind to that."

Then Tom gave the fleshy lad a punch that sent him into Chot's arms, and Chot shoved him on to one of the beds in a sitting posture. Then the boys tipped Fleet over, one sat on his chest, the other on his feet, and despite his struggles, he was unable to do anything but writhe and twist.

"Nice way to treat a fellow," he cried. "Nice--"

"Whoa!" shouted Tom. "Now, tell us what you were going to."

"I refuse!"

"Then take this," said Chot, and plunging his fingers into Fleet's ribs, he tickled him until he fairly squealed.

"Oh, I'll tell--I'll tell!" cried Fleet. "You fellows think you're smart, don't you, but I'll get square for this."

"Oh, he's going to get square," said Chot. "He don't want anything out of that box we received from home to-day."

"No; express packages from Mortonville don't interest Fleet," Tom replied.

"Especially when they contain jam and cookies."

"Eh? What's that?" cried Fleet, trying to sit up. He stopped struggling.

"I was just speaking to Tom," Chot replied. "You and I, Tom, will eat raspberry jam, chocolate cake, currant jelly and brown bread."

"Oh, yum, yum!" cried Fleet. "Let me up this minute and I'll forget you ever sat on me."

"Shall we let him up?" asked Tom.

"May as well. I think he has learned his lesson. The next time he has something to tell us, he'll tell it, and not make us ask him over and over."

A moment later Fleet was on his feet.

"Where's the box?" he demanded, looking around.

"First, what are you going to tell us?"

"Aw--that can wait--I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry. Tell us."