"It's all right!" exclaimed Nat. "Say, they're bricks all right, Gales and Hall are! They took us to Dr. Mead's little private office, and we thought sure we were in for it. I didn't know how they recognized me until Gales gave me my handkerchief, which I had dropped in the room. It had my name on it." "Skip those details!" interrupted Sam. "Get down to business. Did they fire you?" "Not a bit of it," replied Nat. "They asked me if I was hurt in the-- er--the--jump I took from the window. I said I wasn't. They then made some remarks about the night air being bad toward the end of the term, and they told us to go to our classes. Not a word about it. I call that white, I do." "Right you are!" came in chorus from the others. "We ought to send 'em a vote of thanks," suggested Sam. "No, I think I'd let it rest where it is," came from Jack. "They want to show that they could have made trouble if they wanted to. We'd better let it drop. I wonder if Dr. Mead knows it?" "I don't believe they told him," was Nat's opinion. "You see there wasn't much of a row, and it was all over in a little while. But it certainly is one on us." To this they all agreed. Yet one good thing came of it, for the boys had a better understanding of the characters of the two instructors. They felt an increased respect for them morally as well as physically, and there came a better spirit between Jack's crowd and the two professors. The latter never even referred to the burglar incident, and, whenever any of the other students spoke in rather slighting terms of either of the instructors, Jack and his friends were ready defenders. On account of preparations for examinations there was only a half day's session, the boys being given the afternoon off. After dinner Jack accepted an invitation from John Smith to go out in the Indian student's canoe on the lake. They paddled about for several hours, and were on their way back to the boathouse, when a rowing craft, in which two youths were seated, came swiftly toward them. "Look out!" called Jack. "Do you want to run us down?" Whether the rowers intended that or not was not evident, but they certainly came within a few inches of smashing the frail canoe. Only John's skill prevented it. As the rowboat swept past one of the oars fairly snatched the paddle from Jack's hand. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded angrily. The only answer was a mocking laugh, and, as the boat was now far enough past to show the faces of the rowers, Jack looked to see who they were. "Jerry Chowden!" he exclaimed. "I thought he was in Chicago," and he recalled the threatening letter. "Guess he's here to see the closing exercises," remarked John. "Who's that with him?" "Adrian Bagot" replied Jack. "Well, they're a nice team. I shouldn't wonder but there'd be some trouble for some one if they stay long." "Not many more days left," John observed. "Grab your paddle," and he swung the canoe around to where the broad blade floated.