At the rear of the building, a large yard enclosed by a high board fence was a favorite spot with many of the students, for tables, with the whitest of table-cloths, and comfortable chairs were placed temptingly about. Several trees and palms, together with a number of small flower beds, helped, in warm weather, to make the place very attractive. When Nat Wingate and Owen Lawrence entered the "Retreat," late that afternoon, their ears told them before they reached the yard that it had been captured by a crowd of lively boys. And the new student of the Kingswood school immediately noted that his companion seemed to be highly popular. "Hello, Nat! Hello!" came from half a dozen throats. "Zip--boom--hooray for the captain of the Stars!" called out a boy almost as tall as Tom Clifton. "Hello, Hackett! Hello, Talbot!" greeted Nat. "Gee--there's 'Crackers,' too. Howdy, everybody! Fellows, let me introduce Owen Lawrence." The latter was busy for a few moments exchanging salutations. Then he plumped himself down on a chair, which the smiling Terry Guffin pushed toward him. Mr. Guffin was pleased--the round, cherubic face under his chef's white cap plainly showed it. A new customer to the "Retreat" generally meant a permanent customer so long as he remained a boy--and sometimes after. Owen was soon holding a rapid-fire talk with Kirk Talbot, John Hackett, Benny Wilkins, Ted Pollock, and a heavy-set, stoop-shouldered boy wearing spectacles, and who was invariably addressed as "Crackers." "'Crackers'?" queried Owen, at one of the infrequent pauses. The heavy-set boy flushed slightly. A ripple of mirth was communicated to various groups. "Ha, ha!" grinned Nat. "He doesn't do it any more." "Do what?" asked the new student. "Why, at one time he almost supported a cracker foundry," explained Nat--"never seemed to be separated from a large bag of them." "A continuous performance," supplemented Hackett. "And of course such an awful example had to be made an example of," chuckled Benny Wilkins. "Anywhere within a five-mile zone his name is 'Crackers.' When he gets beyond, some people call him Dan and others Brown. He's been done up brown, too; haven't you, Brown?" "Some greenies may think so." "Well, it's a good thing talk like that doesn't mean a black eye for some one. What were you saying, Nat?" "I'm trying to put Owen straight on who we are and what we are," answered Nat. "You see, John Hackett, Kirk Talbot and myself left school at the end of last term, and have already begun our struggle in life." "So far, it's been something fierce, too," confided Hackett. "I'm working for my father, and the howl he raises when I want a day or two off would almost make you run out of the store." "John's the meanest apology for a dry-goods clerk that ever skimped on a yard of cloth," announced Benny Wilkins.