Ray’s parents received us hospitably, and did everything to make our week a pleasant one. The days passed rapidly in various delightful country pursuits. We did not forget the main object of our coming together, however, but practised hard at baseball for several hours each day. The result was that at the end of the vacation, which had flown by only too rapidly, we were playing in splendid form, and were in the best possible condition physically. The week was a perfect paradise to Tony, who enjoyed every minute of it, and during our hours of practice, he stood by, an interested spectator, and chased all the wild balls like a good fellow. Early on the Monday morning following the Easter holidays we left Cedar Hill and returned to college. We reached Belmont shortly after ten o’clock, and were hurrying to our rooms to unpack our valises, when we were attracted by the sound of voices on the front campus. Rounding the corner of Colver Hall, we saw a great mass of students assembled near the front gateway, many of them talking loudly and gesticulating in an excited manner. “Hallo, what’s all this?” I asked. “Something unusual, that’s certain,” said Dick Palmer. “Come, let’s hurry and see what is the matter.” Hastily tossing our valises into a corner of the entry to Colver Hall, we ran down toward the crowd, and pushed our way through to the open space in the center. “What is the trouble?” I asked the nearest man. “Trouble! Trouble enough. It’s a burning shame!” he exclaimed angrily. “What is a burning shame?” “Why look! Look there,” and he pointed to the ground. We looked in the direction indicated. _The old cannons――the pets of which Belmont had been so proud for forty years past――were gone._ CHAPTER IX A COUNCIL OF WAR Almost unable to believe my eyes, I gazed fixedly at the damp, bare spots of ground where our dear old cannons had rested for so long a time. Like all the students at Belmont I had grown so accustomed to the old pieces of artillery, and they had become so intimately associated with my college life, that I had learned to look upon them as a part of the institution itself, and I could not get used to the fact that they were gone――that the two Belmont cannons had actually been moved away, and that I was simply staring at vacancy. It all seemed so unreal, that for a moment I wondered whether I was awake or dreaming. As if in echo to my thoughts, I heard Dick Palmer’s voice beside me. “The old cannons gone! Why, it doesn’t seem like Belmont College now.” “No,” answered Tony Larcom, “it isn’t the same place at all. The campus looks as if it had had two big front teeth pulled out.” “Then we must set about refilling the cavities,” said some one. We looked around. Clinton Edwards was standing with his hand on Ray Wendell’s shoulder. It was to Ray in particular that he addressed the words. Ray said nothing. Edwards shook Ray’s shoulder slightly.