"What happened between you and the crowd?" pressed Darrin, scenting some news from Reade's mysterious, half-sulky manner. "Never you mind," Tom growled. "Don't tell us," Dick urged. "We can guess a few things, anyway. You've a bruised spot over your left cheek bone that looks like the mark of a punch on the face." "Go ahead and tell us what happened, Tom," urged Greg. Reade only scowled. "Anyway, you must have avenged yourself," Dick smiled. "Just look at the way the knuckles of your right hand are skinned. You certainly hit someone hard." Tom flushed quickly as he glanced at the knuckles in question, then thrust his right hand into his pocket with an air of indifference. "Be a good fellow and tell us the finish of the adventure," begged Darrin. "Certainly," grinned Reade. "The end of my adventure was-----" "Yes, yes!" pressed Greg, as Tom hesitated. "The end of the adventure came," Tom continued maliciously, "when I turned out the gas in my little room and hopped into bed. I slept like a top, thank you." "Now, now, now!" Dick warned him. "Thomas, you're hiding something from us!" "If I am, it's my own business, and I've a right to hide it," retorted Tom, smiling once more, though still uncommunicative. At this moment Hazelton and Dan Dalzell, otherwise known as Danny Grin, came up. They, too, had to hear all about the bottle-breaking trick. "How did you ever come to think of a thing like that, Tom?" asked Harry Hazelton. "I thought of it before I tried it out at Dick's," Reade rejoined, and explained how he had helped Timmy Finbrink out of a scrape. "What did you say the fellow's name is, Tom?" Dick asked. "His name is Timmy Finbrink," Reade rejoined, "and he looks the part. Just one glance at Timmy, and you know that he's all that the name implies." Then followed, for the benefit of the two latest arrivals, the story of Tom's attempt in the rear of the Prescott bookstore. Harry and Dalzell duly admired the bruise on Tom's face. "Now, be a gentleman, Tom," urged Harry mischievously, "and let us have a good, satisfying look at your skinned knuckles." "Umph!" grunted Reade. "Or, at least," pursued Harry relentlessly, "tell us just what it was into which you ran to get such a mark on your face." "Umph!" retorted Reade once more. "Danny, in the name of mercy, take that grin of yours around the corner and lose it!" "I'll try," promised Dan, "provided you'll tell us who caught you last night, and why he punched your face." But Tom, knowing that he had them all wild with curiosity, refused to reveal the secret. "Now, let's get back to the big fishing trip," begged Greg Holmes. "Dick, what's the plan?" "We start to-morrow," Prescott rejoined. "Humph!" grunted Holmes. "We knew that all along. What we want are the particulars in detail." "In the next place, then," Dick replied, "we shall devote a good deal of our time, while away, to the pleasurable excitement of fishing."