“Ye—yes—don’t—yo—you see ’em?” And Sedley’s teeth commenced to chatter. “Oh, I wish I wa—was ba—back to Pornell!” he wailed. “They aren’t ghosts,” growled Plunkett. “This is a trick!” “They look like ghosts!” gasped Carey, who was as much of a coward as Sedley. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” said Roy Bock. “It must be some of the Putnam Hall cadets—or else some of our own crowd.” “Halt!” cried Bob again, and his companions repeated the command. Then, as the Bock crowd stopped, the cadets surrounded them, so that none of them might slip away. “What do you want?” demanded Bock, who was evidently the leader, though Plunkett was older. “We want you to have a good time,” said Bob, in a pleasant voice. “We came to treat you—in return for giving the Putnam Hall boys so much trouble.” “Who are you?” demanded Plunkett. It was too dark under the trees to distinguish faces, especially when distorted from the glowing of the phosphorus. “Friends,” said another cadet, for the quartermaster’s plan had been explained to all. “What do you want of us?” “We want you to come along. We have a plan to play another trick on the Putnam Hall fellows.” “But who are you?” demanded Sedley, who had recovered from his fright. “That’s telling, Bat. But you’ll soon know—when we get at the feast Oliver has prepared for us.” Now Oliver was a caterer who had often supplied the Pornell Academy students with good things to eat. The mention of his name took the Bock crowd off their guard. “Have you got a spread for us?” demanded Bock, who was tremendously hungry. “We sure have, Roy.” “But this rig——” “We were going to scare the cadets—if we missed you,” answered Pepper, in a disguised voice. Some more questions were asked, and then Bock and his crowd agreed to follow the ghostlike figures through the woods. The cadets kept in the dark as much as possible and worked hard to keep their identity a secret. Bock at last concluded the boys belonged to a new batch of Pornell students, who had come to that institution only a short while before. One of these lads had spoken about giving a feast, in honor of his birthday, and Bock thought the feast was now on the way. Bob Grenwood was something of a hunter, and during his spare hours he had tramped for many miles through the woods, looking for game. On one of these expeditions he had run across a cave in a hillside, bordering a stream that flowed into one of the lakes of that vicinity. He had visited the cave several times and had fixed it up for use, with a rough bench and table, and a rude fireplace. To this cave the young quartermaster now led the way and all of the others followed. When almost there Bob called a halt. “I will go ahead and see if all is in readiness,” he said in a deep voice.