And Tom began, telling the story of the secret of the old mill.  He had not proceeded far ere there came a knock on the door.

“Come!” invited Tom, after a moment’s hesitation, during which he recalled that, as the term had not officially started, there could be no danger from prowling monitors, or suspicious professors.  The door opened and Bruce Bennington entered.

“Hello, Bruce, old stock!” greeted Tom, rising and holding out his hand.  “Glad to see you!  Here, some of you fellows get up and give one of our betters a seat.”

“Not a one!  Not a one!” exclaimed Bruce, holding up a protesting hand.  “The floor’s good enough for me.”

But several chairs being offered by admiring Sophomores, who knew how to appreciate one of the best-loved lads in Elmwood Hall, Bruce accepted a seat.

“Go ahead, Tom,” he suggested.  “Don’t let me interrupt the festivities.  I don’t want to be the skeleton at the feast.”

“Oh, I was only telling the fellows how Sam and Nick acted this summer,” proceeded our hero.  “And, as I was saying,” he resumed, “they captured Bert, Jack and my friend, from home, Dick Jones.

“They sneaked up on ’em while I was away from camp, mauled ’em something fierce, and tied ’em up.  Then they held em prisoners for several days------”

“On bread and water,” interrupted Jack.  “Don’t forget that, Tommy my boy!”

“That’s right,” added Bert with a sorrowful sigh at the recollection.  “I was nearly starved before you rescued us.”

“And that’s what they did,” concluded Tom, telling the final details.  “Now the question is, what had we better do to such cads when they come back to school and expect to be treated decently?  What ought we to do?”

There was silence for a moment, and then Bruce Bennington asked quietly: 

“May I say something?”

“Surest thing you know!” came promptly from Tom.

“Then I’m going to give you a bit or advice,” went on the older lad.  “You may follow it, or not, but I feel it’s my duty to offer it.  And it’s this.  I’ve heard the whole story now, and I know how you fellows must feel.  But my advice is—­to do nothing at all to Sam and Nick.”

CHAPTER IV

HOW SAM TOLD IT

For a few seconds there was silence in Tom’s room.  All eyes were fixed on Bruce Bennington, but the latter bore the scrutiny well.  Then came gasps of surprise, and one or two mutterings.  Bruce heard them, and smiled.

“Come!” he invited with a laugh.  “Out with it.  I know what you are thinking.  Speak up, Tom—­and the rest of you.”

“Did you—­did you really mean that?” asked Tom slowly, “or was it a joke?”

“It wasn’t a joke, certainly.  I’m in earnest,” and the smile faded from the face of Bruce Bennington.

“But what do you mean?” insisted Tom.  “After the way those fellows treated Jack and Bert—­to say nothing of having practically stolen my motorboat, together with the help of the old hermit and Mr. Skeel—­not to do anything to ’em!”