"It's like this," Leslie began. "When I met Wilson I had five hundred dollars in my pocket and a grouch against my father. Always before then, father had sent the Academy a check to pay for the semester--you have to pay there in advance for half the year--but this year he had business on hand that couldn't be interrupted and so he called me into his office in a great hurry the morning I left home and handed over the check to me. It was made out to me and it was for five hundred dollars. That's the price of the half year, you see. Dad handed it over and just said, 'Here, pay your own bill,' and got out. That's about all that's ever between us, anyway. Well, I went up to Omaha. We'd had it out about school all summer. I was bound not to go this year, and he swore that I should go and go through college if he had to rope me and tie me and take me himself, as he put it! Father is a whirlwind of a man. But I was bound not to go, and the money let me out. I took the check and cashed it at the bank and went to the 'Hill House,' where I met Wilson. I reasoned that the money was mine because it was to be spent on me. You see, Ross, I was mad enough to reason anything my way that I wanted." Leslie turned the damper absently, sending smoke in gusts into the room, but neither boy noticed it. Ross wiped out his dish-pan, hung it on its nail, and sitting down on a box, took his chin between his hands and stared at the fire. "I thought," Leslie went on, "that I'd invest that money and surprise dad. Well," grimly, "he's probably as surprised by this time as I am. You've heard Wilson tell about my meeting him and agreeing to go with him. I spent the entire five hundred on our outfit and car-fare in the expectation that in six weeks I could write to dad and tell him what a success I'd made of it! I had six weeks' grace." Ross looked up inquiringly. "What do you mean?" "Father and I never have corresponded extensively, but he always looks sharply after my reports. The first report goes out from the Academy in six weeks after school opens. I reckoned from what Wilson said that we'd strike it rich up here in a month more or less, and so about the time father would be looking into the reason why no report was sent from the Academy, he'd be receiving one from me up here and, you know, Ross, 'nothing succeeds as well as success,' and success of this sort would get dad right under the collar. Well, he probably knows by this time that I've turned up missing at school, and he has not received a letter from Meadow Creek telling about the discovery of free gold!" Leslie gave the damper a final twist and sat down on a pile of fire-wood. "Ross," he exclaimed violently, "I am about seven ways an everlasting fool!" Ross grinned cheerfully. "Aunt Anne always says that to find out that you're a fool 'is the best cure for the disease of foolishness.' So you see you're headed toward the cure already."