“On Cayuga Lake, uncle!” cried Sam.  “Why, that’s a splendid location, isn’t it?”

“Very fine.”

“And is that where we are to go?” put in Tom eagerly.

“Yes, Thomas; I might as well tell you, although I wanted to surprise you.  You are to go to Putnam Hall, and there you will have with you Lawrence Colby, Frank Harrington, and several other lads with whom you are all acquainted.”

“Hurrah, Uncle Randolph!” came from Sam, and rushing up, he caught his relative around the shoulder.  “You’re the best kind of uncle, after all.”

“Putnam Hall is an institution of learning that has been established for some twenty years,” went on Mr. Rover, pushing back his spectacles and laying down the agricultural work he had been perusing.  “It is presided over by Captain Victor Putnam, an old army officer, who in his younger days used to be a schoolmaster.  He is a strict disciplinarian, and will make you toe the mark; but let me say right here, I have it from Mr. Colby that there is no schoolmaster who is kinder or more considerate of his pupils.”

“Is it a regular military institution like West Point?” asked Tom.

“Hardly, Thomas, although the students, so I am informed, dress like cadets and spend an hour or so each day in drilling, and in the summer all the school march up the lake and go into an encampment.”

“That just suits me!” broke in Sam enthusiastically.  “Hurrah for Putnam Hall!”

“Hurrah!” echoed Tom faintly, and Dick nodded to show he felt as they did.  At the cheer, Sarah the cook stuck her head into the door.

“Sure an’ I thought Tom was out of his head, bedad,” she observed.

“Sarah, I’m going away soon —­ to a military academy.  I won’t bother you any more,” said Tom.

“Won’t yez now?  That will be foine.”  Then the cook stopped short, thinking she had hurt the boy’s feelings.  “Oh, Master Torn, don’t moind me.  You’re not such an —­ an awful bother as we think,” and then at a wave of Mrs. Rover’s hand she disappeared.

After this the evening passed quickly enough, for the boys wanted to know all there was to be learned about their future boarding school.  Mr. Rover had a circular of the institution, and they pored over this.

“Captain Victor Putnam is the head master,” said Dick, as he read.  “He has two assistants, Josiah Crabtree and George Strong, besides two teacher’s who come in to give instructions in French and German if desired, also in music.  Uncle Randolph, are we to take up these branches?”

“I am going to leave you to select your own studies outside of the regular course, Richard.  What would be the use of taking up music, for instance, if you were not musically inclined.”

“I’d like to play a banjo,” said Tom, and grinned as well as the bandage on his head, would permit.

“I doubt if the, professor of music teaches that plantation instrument,” smiled Mrs. Rover.  Then she patted Tom’s shoulder affectionately.