"Tat's the stuff!" cried Roger, and then commenced to toot loudly on a tin horn he carried, and many others made a din.
At the depot the boys had to wait a little while. But presently the train came along and they got aboard. Dave and Ben found a seat near the middle of the car and Nat Poole sat close by them. He acted as if he wanted to talk, but the others gave him little encouragement.
"Nat has something on his mind, I'll wager a cookie," whispered Ben to Dave.
"Well, if he has, he need not bother us with it," was Dave's reply. "I am done with him—I told him that some time ago."
The train rolled on and when near the Junction, where the boys had to change to the main line, a couple in front of Ben and Dave got up, leaving the seat vacant. At once Nat Poole took the seat, at first, however, turning it over, so that he might face the other Oak Hall students.
"I want to talk to you, Dave Porter," he said, in a low and somewhat ugly voice. "I want you to give an account of yourself."
"Give an account of myself?" queried Dave, in some astonishment, for he had not expected such an opening from Nat. "What do you mean?"
"You know well enough what I mean," cried the other boy, and now it was plainly
