“In Owego!” cried Sam.  “Why, that city isn’t over fifty miles from here.”

“This is his old stamping ground,” put in Tom.  “For all we know he may now be hanging around Ithaca or Cedarville.”

“I don’t believe he’ll come here,” said Dick.  “He is too well known.”

“Oh, if only we could lay hands on him, Dick!”

“Wish we could, Tom.  But Arnold Baxter knows enough to keep out of our clutches.”

“Wonder if he knows what became of Dan?”

“Like as not our story was in all the newspapers, and they mentioned Dan too.”

“If that is so, it’s more than likely he thinks we are responsible for Dan being left behind on the island.”

“I’m not going to bother my head about Arnold Baxter,” put in Sam.  “If he shows himself I’ll have him arrested, that’s all.”

One day after another slipped by and all of the boys continued to study with a will.  Once they received long letters from Dora Stanhope and Nellie and Grace Laning, and sent long letters in return.

“Wish the girls were back here,” said Dick.  But this could not be, as they had decided to remain in California for a while longer, and the boys had to content themselves by sending the girls keepsakes by which to be remembered.

On the Friday afternoon preceding the final week of the term Tom and Sam walked down to the lake, intending to go out in a boat for a short row.

As they drew close to the boathouse they heard loud talking and then a cry of pain.

“Please don’t,” came in the voice of a young cadet.  “Please, please don’t, Flapp!”

“But I just will, you little imp!” came in Lew Flapp’s harsh voice.  “I’ll teach you to play the sneak!”

“But I—­I didn’t mean to do anything, really I didn’t,” answered the other.  “But I felt so sick, and I—­”

“Oh, I know you, Moss.  For two pins I’d break your head for you!” And then came the sounds of several blows in quick succession.

“It’s Flapp!” cried Sam.  “He is beating somebody most shamefully.”

“It’s little Harry Moss,” returned Tom, leaping to the front.  “The big bully!  Why can’t he take a fellow of his own size?”

He rushed around the corner of the boathouse and there beheld a scene that aroused his warmest indignation.  Harry Moss was crowded into a corner and over him stood Lew Flapp, beating him with a heavy boat chain.

Flapp had just raised the chain for another blow when Tom ran in and caught his arm.

“Stop!” he cried.  “You let Harry Moss alone!”

Startled at the interruption Lew Flapp turned.  When he saw both Tom and Sam his face fell.

“What do you want here?” he asked sulkily.

“I want you to leave Harry Moss alone,” answered Tom.

“Oh, Rover, please make him stop,” pleaded Harry.  “He’s trying to kill me!”

“No, I ain’t,” retorted Flapp.  “I’m only giving him a whipping that he deserves.”