As he uttered the last words, Buttons took the odoriferous limburger from the box and started to jam it into Bronson's mouth. But before he could do so, Fred caught his arm. "Keep out of this, you Cotton-Top!" cried the other boys, jumping for Fred. "This is none of your affair." "Oh, yes, it is," grinned Fred, throwing aside Soda and skillfully dodging the others who charged at him. Then sniffing loudly, he continued: "I say, Buttons, you'd better run and take a bath." "Bath nothing," retorted Buttons angrily. "It's this cheese." Even his fellow-conspirators could not keep from laughing at the indignation with which he repelled the charge. "I'll stand treat for sodas if you'll come down to the store," exclaimed Bronson, deeming the moment opportune to try to make friends with his tormentors. "That is, if we can go without missing classes." "Sure we can go. There are no classes till afternoon," chorused several. Laughing and talking, the boys started for the village, when Buttons suddenly cried: "I say, let's put the cheese in Bart's desk. He's gone home, and it will make him furious." The suggestion met with hearty approval, and after due consideration, Shorty Simms was selected as the one to hide the limburger. "We'll all go in," declared Soda, "then if any instructor sees us, he won't be able to tell who did it, as he would if Shorty went alone." Readily agreeing, the boys swarmed in a troop into the building, and while Shorty, watching his chance, dodged to Bart's desk, opened the top and placed the limburger as far back as possible, smearing some of it in the cracks. Gleefully the others watched, filing innocently from the room when the deed was accomplished. "Wow! but Bart'll raise an awful rumpus," opined several. "Never mind about Bart. Come on to the store," exclaimed Soda. And, linking his arm through Bronson's, as though fearful he might escape, Soda hurried through the hall, the others following close behind. But as they started down the steps, they were confronted by a group of Firsts. "Hey, you Seconds! Back to Number one and clean our desks for us." At a glance Fred realized that he and his companions were outnumbered by the Upper Formers, and, with that quickness of decision which was destined to make him so good a football player, he whispered: "The side door!" Laughing derisively, thee Seconds turned and rushed into No. 1, hastily swarming out the window and through the door. So unexpected was the refusal to clean their desks, that for a moment the Firsts stood motionless at the foot of the steps, then charged up. But that moment of hesitation had been sufficient for Fred and his followers to make good their escape, and as the Firsts rushed into No. 1, the last boy reached the campus and with a mocking wave of his hand, Buttons shouted: "Try the Thirds! They're slow but tame!" CHAPTER VI HIS FATHER'S FAILURE