"Jail," said the boy in the gray flannels. "School," pronounced the boy in the blue serge. "Bet you " "No, sir, you owe me ten cents now. You didn't pay up the last time." "It's wrong to bet for money, Ned." The other set down the suitcase he was carrying and scoffed. "Yes, when you lose," he observed, with deep sarcasm. "That's thirty-five cents you owe me. You bet in Chicago that-"

"How's craps, Country?" "Shut up, Bart he may hear you." "What if he does, ninny? I want him to. Say, Spinach " "Do you suppose he's going to try and play football, Bart?" "Not he. He's looking for a rake. Thinks this is a hayfield, Wall." The speakers were lying on the turf back of the north goal on the campus at Hillton Academy. The elder and larger of the two was a rather coarse-looking youth of seventeen. His name was Bartlett Cloud, shortened by his acquaintances to "Bart" for the sake of that brevity beloved of the schoolboy. His companion, Wallace Clausen, was a handsome though rather...

The Adventure Club had its inception, one evening toward the last of June, in Number 17 Sumner Hall, which is the oldest, most vine-hidden and most hallowed of the seven dormitories of Dexter Academy. It was a particularly warm evening, the two windows were wide open and the green-shaded light on the study table in the centre of the room had been turned low-Sumner prided itself on being conservative to the extent of gas instead of electricity and tin bathtubs instead of porcelain-and in the dim radiance the three occupants of the room were scarcely more than darker blurs.

For the honor of the school, a story of school life and interscholastic sport by Ralph Henry Barbour. This book is a reproduction of the original book published in 1900 and may have some imperfections such as marks or hand-written notes.