“He was here a minute ago, but now he’s gone!” cried Helen Allen, in a plaintive voice; and Ralph felt doubly sorry that he was compelled to forego a pleasant evening in the company of Frank’s sister. Scurrying through the end of the barn, he reached the open air. CHAPTER XXI RALPH HEARS SOMETHING Ralph had become cautious by this time. “Two narrow squeaks, and the third time may see me held tight,” he said to himself, as he crouched there, looking around. He knew positively that the anxious sophomores were hiding everywhere about, their eyes on the barn where the freshmen had vanished, bearing their dinner with them. How to creep away undetected was a question for the lad to solve. He found where the darkness lay most heavily, and laid out his line of retreat accordingly. He was just about to rise when he thought he had crept far enough away, when he heard a fluttering of the bushes near by. “Are the birds all in the coop?” asked an unseen crouching figure. Ralph knew that he had been taken for one of the second-year boys. His ready wit came to the front, so that he instantly replied: “Yes. And the captain wants you all to creep in closer. I’m rounding the gang up. Move along!” He came near laughing aloud to see not one, but three shadowy forms crawling off in the direction of the barn, and leaving the path free for the escaping freshman. “Ta! ta! and many thanks!” whispered Ralph, as he waved a hand after the last of these figures. Then he started away, and it must be a pretty clever sprinter who could overtake him now, once he made a break. In several directions he heard low voices calling, as though the hidden sophomores wondered who it could be running along the road. But there was no pursuit made, for which the already weary Ralph felt glad. He had gone through with a tremendous amount of mental and physical strain that day, and had no desire to continue with another series of adventures. So he presently arrived in the near vicinity of the cabin home of Sam Smalling. “There’s a light in the window,” he muttered, as he drew near; “and that looks as if he expected me.” Ralph was shivering, not with the cold, or even because of his double adventure that night, but with apprehension. He dreaded lest a disappointment might await him. Perhaps, after all, the story Smalling had to tell might not shed any particular light on his history. Another thing that had begun to give him anxiety. He wondered whether he might not be the child of that same Arnold Musgrove, and that from some cause or other his father was ashamed to own him! Bracing himself, he stepped up to the door of the humble cabin. Hardly had he knocked before the door was opened. “Glad to see you, Ralph. I began to think you wasn’t going to turn up, it was getting so late,” said the man, holding out his hand and drawing him inside.