"I know you of old, Wingate," returned the other, frigidly. "You may direct your remarks elsewhere. What did you say, Brandon?" "That we seem to be rounding out in pretty good shape, Mr. Barry; and----" "I didn't come over to hear any boasting." "His figure rounded out in pretty poor shape years ago, so I'm told," put in a tall, aggressive-looking lad to whom Nat had just beckoned. Mr. Barry turned sharply upon him, took a good look, and then remarked: "I don't think I ever saw you before, boy." "I don't think I ever saw you before, either." "And what might your name be?" "Owen Lawrence. You see, our folks just moved to Kingswood. Of course I had to go to school somewhere, and so I'm a student at the High." "And if you have any sense you'll stick there until you get a good education," snapped the irascible old gentleman. "Drat that confounded dog! Keep still, Canis! If you boys have as much spirit in training as he has out of training you'll do. Now don't stand around gaping as if you'd never seen a man before. Go back to practice." Mr. Barry had a way about him which impelled obedience to his will. For fully fifteen minutes, under his critical observation, the boys played with a dash and vim that might have brought a smile of approval from almost any one else. Then, without a word of comment, he waved his knotty stick in the direction of the captain of the nine, and, closely followed by the yellow dog, stalked back in the direction from whence he had come. CHAPTER III THE "RETREAT" Not far from the high school, at the end of a long row of houses, stood an unpretentious two-story frame building painted white. Big black letters almost covering the width of the house announced that therein was located "Terry Guffin's Student Retreat." Terry had lived in the "White House" long enough to know generation after generation of schoolboys. His pies, doughnuts and cakes were famous; so were his chops. And many an old "grad" who had left his student days far behind found it convenient to return to Kingswood so that he might see the round, red face of Mr. Guffin, and once more partake of his tasty wares. The interior of the Student Retreat was filled with interesting souvenirs of school life--photographs, sketches, bits of writing--each possessing a significance dear to the heart of Terry Guffin. There were rather curious paintings, too, on door panels, or over mantel-pieces, which showed ambition, if not high artistic ability. The largest and most important, painted on real canvas, with a gold frame around it, and hanging so conspicuously that all who entered must rest their gaze upon it, was signed "David Brandon." The picture represented a wild stampede of cattle on the plains. Cowboys, terror-stricken animals, and clouds of dust were depicted in a spirit which had often aroused the enthusiasm of visitors to the Retreat.