No wonder the boys of Ogleport had such blind faith in Zeb Fuller’s leadership. When the wagon was pulled up in front of the steps leading to the door of the “lecture room,” in the rear “addition” to the main building of the Academy, Dr. Dryer could hardly repress an exclamation of surprise at the amount and energy of the “popular aid” which awaited the unloading of that cargo of scientific goods. Not that anything very remarkable showed itself through the numerous pine-boxes, but Mr. George Brayton, in the simplicity of his heart, deemed it a most encouraging sign that so many of his future pupils should take so deep an interest in such a matter. At all events, the strong and willing hands of Zeb Fuller and the rest made the transfer of those boxes to the lecture-room floor a very brief and easy piece of work. “Now, Mr. Brayton,” said Zeb, “you’ll want to show what’s in them. I’ll go for a hatchet and chisel, and we’ll have ’em open.” “Bring a saw, too,” said Brayton, but Dr. Dryer wagged his reverend head somewhat suspiciously. Never before had the boys of Ogleport taken so deep an interest in the affairs of the village institution. That was a great day for Zeb and his friends, nevertheless. They could hardly be persuaded to go home to dinner. The worst of it all, if Dr. Dryer had only known it, was the frequency with which the keen eyes of his pupils detected him in turning over to his assistant the various questions propounded by the excited “trustees” as to the use of this, that, and the other contrivance of glass or brass. CHAPTER XII NEWLY FOUND FRIENDS When Barnaby Vernon, at the close of his first day at Dr. Manning’s, found himself alone in the really luxurious room assigned him for the night, it would have been too much to expect that he should at once go to bed and to sleep. The events of the day, no less than his unaccustomed surroundings, combined to stir such a fever in his young blood as was not likely to cool down very soon. “Major Montague isn’t the man to give it up in that way,” he said to himself, aloud. “He always seemed to take special care of that valise. No doubt he wants it back again. Now, too, he may get it into his head that there’s money to be made, somehow, out of my new friends. Reckon I can trust Judge Danvers to take care of that. Anyhow, I’m so glad to get away. Hope it isn’t too much of a change in Val’s plans. He doesn’t seem to mind it, I should say. Must be a good deal of fun in catching fish.” Then, after a moment’s silence, he continued: