“Over this way!” called Tom, who had been looking about.  “I think I see something like a gate leading into a lane.  It may take us to a road.  Come on.”

They followed him, splashing through the mud puddles and darkness.  Then came a flash of lightning, which showed them the lane in question.  It did lead into the road, and a little later they were on the river highway, headed toward the Hall.

“Let’s run and get warmed up,” proposed Bert, and they set off on a dog trot.

“I wonder if any of the others are as badly off as we are?” spoke Jack.

“I hope not,” came from George.

“I suppose we’re out of the running,” remarked Bert.  “It must be after eight.”

“Half-past,” said Tom, managing to see the dial of his watch by a lightning flash.

“Ugh!” grunted Jack.  “It’s all up with us.”

In silence they plowed on, and a little later they saw the welcome lights of Elmwood Hall.

“Humph!  Late, young gentlemen,” remarked Mr. Porter, the proctor, as they filed in the gate.  “Report to Doctor Meredith at once.”

“It was an accident—­we got lost,” explained Bert.

“And a crusty old farmer wouldn’t show us the road,” added Tom.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.  Report to the doctor,” was all the satisfaction they received.

But the head master was not at all unkind about it.  He listened to their explanation, and consoled them for their ill luck.

They managed to get something to eat, and then, paying a surreptitious visit to the rooms of some of their chums, they learned that they were fully three-quarters of an hour later in coming back than were the last of the stragglers.

“Did Sam and Nick make good time?” asked Tom, of the football captain.

“Very good, yes.  They were among the first ones in.  I’m sorry about you boys.”

“I suppose we’re out of the game,” hinted Jack.

“Well, not altogether, but it’ll set you back.  However, I’ll do what I can.  Better turn in now.  You must be tired.”

“Tired isn’t a name for it!” groaned Bert.  “I’ll sleep like a locomotive to-night.”

They were all slumbering almost as soon as they tumbled into bed, and, though they had been well soaked, they experienced no ill effects the next morning.

To their delight the football captain and coach said nothing about their ill-luck in being outside the time limit for the cross-country run, and they went to practice as usual.

“Huh!  I wonder if they call that fair?” sneered Sam, when he saw his enemy, and the latter’s friends, in their usual places.

“It’s not right,” asserted Nick, “after we made the run, and got in on time.”

“Well, you didn’t get lost in the woods,” said George Abbot, who was at least on speaking terms with Sam and his crony.  “A farm fellow told us to take the wrong road to avoid a hill.”