“They said you had a dissipated look, Robert. Well, so you have, and I mustn’t keep you out so late o’ nights any more. But won’t I get even with that pair before I’m done with ’em!” Zeb Fuller had very plainly had his own way too much in Ogleport, and his rustic narrowness had got him into a very bad state of mind. In fact, he and his friends had too much accustomed themselves, in a thoroughly Saxonish way, to regard the entire race of Academy “boarders” as a very undesirable lot of “foreigners,” if not, also, as a kind of “invaders,” to whom small mercy belonged on the part of himself and the other “natives.” CHAPTER XX THE BOXING MATCH The rest of that night was reasonably calm, and Bar and Val slept soundly, without any fear of trouble in the belfry, nor did they fail to promptly answer the bell for breakfast. After that, a trip to the lake, a look at Puff Evans and his workshop, and a few hours of fishing, followed, as a matter of course, only Bar Vernon discovered that he was not going to go through the Greek grammar “across lots,” as he had begun to do with the Latin. They found Puff rapidly becoming absorbed and enthusiastic about his new boat. “I’ll hev to go over to old Todderley’s after some more lumber to-morrow,” he said; “but ’pears like I can’t bear to leave it for a moment.” “Isn’t there some danger that old Skinner might get wind of it and try to take it away from you?” suggested Bar. The boat-builder blew out his flabby cheeks with a most mournful puff, and the saw he was using dropped from his hand. “Then, what on ’arth _is_ the use?” he exclaimed, as if all the beauty and glory had suddenly been knocked out of his life. “I was thinking of that last night,” said Bar. “I’ll write out a bill of sale for the boat, when I get home. Call it mine till it’s sold. I’ll swap you the _Mary_ for it, now, if you want.” “Ain’t that there a leetle crooked?” slowly responded Puff. “Yes, a little,” said Bar. “He means to steal the boat and we mean to hide it, that’s all. Send him to me if he troubles you and I’ll fix him. You needn’t be afraid, though. He won’t dream of coming.” “I don’t mind doing that,” said Puff. “Reckon I kin go to work agin now. Hope you’ll have a right good day’s fishin’.” So they did, so far as it went, but the boys had made up their minds to be on the green in time to take a look at the game of baseball as well as at the boys who came to play it. On their return home they found that George Brayton had gone for an afternoon drive, and that Mrs. Wood was inclined to scold a little at their being so late for their dinner. “Never mind her, Bar,” said Val, when she was out of hearing. “I don’t,” said Bar; “but I’ll kill some of her ghosts for her if she isn’t good to me.” “It’s clearing up a little,” replied Val. “The ghosts may be heard from sooner than people think.” By the time the boys came out again the usually deserted green began to put on a somewhat lively appearance.