The Rover Boys on a Hunt | Page 7

was
in general command, was enforcing this rule with more strictness than
ever before.
The afternoon spent coasting had given the Rovers and their chums
good appetites, and they fell to with gusto over the ample supper
provided for them. Unlike many boarding schools, the table at Colby
Hall was always a bountiful one, and it is needless to say that the
growing cadets always did full justice to everything that was set before
them.
"What are you going to do about Bill Glutts, Jack?" questioned Fred,
after the meal was over and the two were on their way to get several
reference books from the school library.

"I don't know yet," was the young captain's answer. "He ought to have
a thrashing, but you know how matters stand."
"Of course. And Jack, we can't think of that with the end of the term so
near. You don't want to spoil your record, and neither do I."
"It's a confounded shame that Glutts didn't leave when Gabe Werner
went," continued the oldest Rover boy. "They were two of a kind."
"Did you hear what Andy said--that he thought Glutts had a lot of
German blood in him?"
"That might be. His face looks it, and the name sounds a little that way
too."
"Andy and Randy both want to pitch into him," continued the young
lieutenant.
"You warn them not to do it--at least, not until this term comes to an
end," warned Jack. "They have been cutting up so much since last
September that their averages are none too high as it is. They'd be
mighty sorry if Captain Dale sent home a bad report about them. It
would just about break Aunt Nellie's heart, I'm sure."
Having procured the reference books, the two made their way upstairs
to the rooms occupied by them. The Rovers had a suite of four rooms,
one of which was used as a sitting room and for studying. As they
walked through the upper hallway they passed Nick Carncross and Bill
Glutts. Glutts looked sourly at them but did not say a word, and they
refused to notice the pair.
"I guess you've got their goat, Bill," remarked Carncross, as they
passed on. "That race really belonged to you, and they know it."
"Of course it belonged to me," returned Glutts. "If they hadn't got in my
way I'd have won with ease. There isn't a bobsled anywhere around that
can beat the Yellow Streak."

"I'm glad you shoved him over in the snow, even if he is a captain,"
continued Carncross. "He's got too big an opinion of himself."
"He only got to be captain by a fluke, Nick. Gabe Werner should have
had that office," continued Glutts.
"Is that why Werner left?" questioned Carncross curiously.
"Oh, no. He left because he got sick of the discipline around here. He
said there was no chance for any fun," answered Glutts.
"Where is he now? Did his folks approve of his leaving school?"
"Oh, I guess they didn't care one way or the other. Old man Werner is
pretty rich, and he didn't get his money by being educated either. So I
guess he doesn't care much for education."
"Does he let Gabe have much spending money?"
"Quite a little--but, of course, not as much as Gabe would like to have.
You know Gabe is a good deal of a sport." Bill Glutts' face lit up with
satisfaction. "I expect we are going to have a bang-up time together
during the holidays."
"Then you expect to see him?"
"Yes; we're planning a trip together."
"Gee! I'll envy you," returned Carncross.
Andy and Randy had not yet come upstairs. Neither could resist the
temptation to have a little fun, and after supper they had gone outside
and begun to snowball Shout Plunger, the school janitor, and Bob
Nixon, the chauffeur.
"It's all in fun, you know," explained Andy, as he let fly a snowball at
the old janitor, who was always called Shout because he was so deaf.
"Hi there! you stop that!" roared Shout. And then, when they continued

to snowball him, he came after them with a wooden snow-shovel.
"Look out! Here comes the enemy!" cried Randy gayly, and let fly a
snowball which struck the upraised snow-shovel and sent a shower of
loose snow into the janitor's face.
"You young rascals!" roared Plunger, and then lost his footing on some
ice. In endeavoring to keep his balance he sent the snow-shovel
whirling through the air. It landed at Andy's feet, catching that
fun-loving youth in the shins and sending him flat on his face.
"Hurrah! One down!" came from Bob Nixon good-naturedly, and then
the chauffeur picked up a large chunk of snow and threw it high in the
air, to land directly on