“Let’s follow him,” said Will Phelps quickly.  “We mustn’t go in a bunch, but string out.  But we mustn’t be so far apart that we can’t hear if one of us calls or whistles.”

“Come on, then,” said Foster.  “You go ahead, Will, and we’ll come along.  You’re a runner, and if the old fellow begins to start up his horses you can follow him better than any of us can.  But we’ll have to do our best.”

Quickly the suggestion was adopted, and Will ran swiftly along the road until he discovered the wagon not far in advance of him.  It was moving at the same monotonous pace as when it had passed the hiding place of the boys.  Will Phelps, when he came within a hundred yards of the wagon he was following, decreased his own speed and endeavored to keep close to the fences by the roadside, so that he would not be seen by the driver if he should chance to look behind him.

They were soon within sight of Winthrop, and the shadowy towers of the college buildings could be discerned in the distance.  It was long past midnight, and the only lights that could be seen were those of the twinkling stars and the occasional flash of the moonlight when the broken clouds that were moving across the face of the sky parted sufficiently for the face of the moon to be seen.

Suddenly Will was aware that the wagon had stopped at a corner where a road or street that led to the lower part of the village joined the road that led past the college buildings.  He darted behind a huge tree that grew close to the roadside, and eagerly peered forth to discover what the next move of the farmer would be.  He could see that some one approached the wagon, and after a brief delay climbed up on the seat beside the driver and then the team started on once more.  Will was keenly excited by this time, and his suspicions were confirmed that the canes were indeed in the wagon before him.  He was eager to follow swiftly, but he quickly decided that it would be wiser to wait until Hawley came up to the place where he himself was waiting and explain to him the change in the direction of the party they were following.

The huge form of Hawley soon appeared, and impatiently Will ran out into the road to meet him.  “They’ve turned in here,” he said excitedly, “and you must stop here and tell the fellows.  I’ll run on ahead and find out where the wagon goes.”

Quickly Will darted across the fields and soon came into the lower road.  The wagon could be seen not far in advance of him, and was still moving at a slow pace from which it had not varied since it first had been seen.  It was evident that the sophs were either indifferent or absolutely confident, Will could not determine which.  For a moment his heart misgave him.  What a plight he would be in if it should appear that he and his classmates had been following a purposely designed trick of their rivals.  The thought was by no means reassuring, but there was no time afforded for reflection, for the wagon he was following even then turned into a lane that led to a farmhouse and barns that were not far from the road.  The climax had almost been reached and it would be soon known what the issue was to be.