"'And in Rooster Long's and Bill Sherwood's too,' said Stewart. 'Might as well make a good job while we're about it.' "'It will be kissing good-bye to three flasks and a pint of good liquor,' said Sandy, grinning foolishly, 'but we won't grudge 'em that, will we, fellows?'" Garry's hands clenched until the nails bit into the palms. "Go on!" he cried. "Well, that's about all," said Cal. "I went in and got my cap, and they looked at me as if I were some sort of a crook--" "The dirty crooks themselves!" muttered Garry, scowling. "You said it," agreed Cal cheerfully. "I didn't think much about it--supposed, in fact, that the fellows were so fuddled they didn't know what they were doing and that nothing would come of it until I heard in a roundabout way that you fellows were accused of some sort of tomfoolery in school. Then when I found that you'd been barred from athletics because of those hip flasks that had been planted in your desks--well, I felt it was about time that little Cal stepped in and told what he knew." "Say, Cal, I don't know how I can thank you for this!" Garry's face was radiant and his eyes gleamed with sudden determination. "I've got to get this thing to Mr. Allen right away." Cal nodded. "Mr. Allen may not think my story is proof enough. He knows, or can find out, that I'm friendly with you because of the way you helped my father, and he may think I'm just cooking this up to get a pal out of trouble. I've thought of that, and so I'm going to help you to corroborate my evidence." "How's that?" asked Garry eagerly. "I'm going to take you right now to the roadhouse and try to scare the landlord into telling what he knows about this plot." "Do you suppose he'll do it?" asked Garry. "He won't want to do it. I know that much," replied Cal. "But I think I can put a flea in his ear that will make him be good. At any rate, I'm going to try it." "Good!" exclaimed Garry, all his despondency gone. Hope coursed through his veins like wine. Every moment's delay seemed unbearable to him. "You're a friend worth having, Cal," he cried jubilantly. "And now you wouldn't mind stepping on the gas a bit, would you?" Cal laughed and complied. "Eager on the scent now, aren't you? Thought maybe you'd be when you'd heard my story. But the place isn't far off and we'll be there in a jiffy." So saying, Cal Yates turned a curve in the road, skidding merrily on two wheels. There was a yell of fright, and three burly tramps stepped to one side with surprising quickness. Cal turned to the scowling men. "Sorry," he called out. "Didn't see you coming. Glad I didn't hit you. S'long!" For answer, one of the tramps picked up a big stone and hurled it at the car, but the speed at which it was going disturbed the fellow's aim, and the car went by undamaged. "Surly brute, isn't he?" asked Cal indignantly. "Any one might think we were trying to run him down on purpose. If that stone had hit one of us, it sure would have done some damage."