With Baxter it was very different, and the Sunday following he asked to be excused from attending church services in the Hall, saying he had fallen on some rocks and hurt his face.  On hearing this, Captain Putnam came to see him.

“Sorry to hear this, Baxter,” he said.  “Do you think you need a doctor?”

“No, sir; I’ll be all right in a few days.”

“Where did you fall?”

“Down by the brook, while we were playing tag.”

“Indeed!  Well, you want to be more careful in the future,” was Captain Putnam’s advice, and then he left Baxter.  If he suspected anything he did not let on.  To a certain extent he believed in letting boys fight out their own battles.

I The Rover boys had come to Putnam Hall in the fall, and now summer sports were cast aside among the pupils, and football and hare and hounds became the rage.

As we know, Sam was an excellent runner, and hare and hounds just suited him.

“We must ask the captain to let us take a long trip next Saturday afternoon,” he said; and the boys went to the owner of Putnam Hall in a body and obtained permission.

It was decided that Sam and Fred should be the hares, while Larry Colby was to be leading hound.  As Frank Harrington had a trumpet he was made whipper-in.  Captain Putnam supplied the boys with a package of old copying books, and these were cut up into small bits and stuffed into two pillow cases loaned by Mrs., Green.

The start was made on a clear but frosty afternoon.  The hares stood on the parade ground, with the hounds, to the number of thirty, behind them.  George Strong had consented to start them off.  The hares were to be given three minutes start of the little scholars and five minutes start of the big boys.

“All ready?” asked the second assistant of Putnam Hall, as he took out his watch.

“All ready,” answered Sam and Fred.

“Then go!” And away went the two boys straight for the cornfield, dropping bits of paper as they sped along.  They leaped the fence in the rear, crossed the brook, and then started along a path leading through the woods beyond.

“We mustn’t dream of letting them catch as,” remarked Sam, as he ran on, with Fred directly behind him.  “I wonder where this path leads to?”

“The top of the mountain, so Mr. Strong told me.  He said there was another path coming down to the westward.”

On and on they went along the path until they came to a narrow mountain road.  Here they met a farmer carting a number of logs in his wagon, and stopped him to ask a few questions.

“Yes, that road will take you right up to the top,” he said.  “But you want to be careful and not make a wrong turn, or you may get lost.”

“I’m not afraid of being lost,” said Fred with a light laugh; and on they sped again, as rapidly as ever, for Fred was as good a runner as Sam, and the pair worked very well together.