If Bar himself had passed that day in a state of ill-suppressed excitement, he had left a very volcanic state of things behind him.

Before matters at the Academy had a fair chance to settle into their customary routine, the news had passed swiftly from desk to desk and bench to bench, whispered, penciled, chalked, everything but telegraphed or shouted, that “Bar Vernon’s run away,” and this was speedily followed by, “Mr. Brayton’s gone after him.”

By the time the scholars were let out for the noon “recess,” the same messages, in various shapes and forms, had made the swift circle of Ogleport, and more than one boy found himself confronted, at corners of the green, by a more or less matronly inquisitor, anxious to “know about it all.”

It was surprising, too, very much so, what clear and circumstantial statements of the facts[Pg 360] those boys were prepared to give, but if any one among them faltered in his tale, that one was not named Zebedee Fuller.

The amount of “faith” afloat in Ogleport was quite likely to be all called for whenever the different inquirers at Zeb’s mouth should come to compare notes.

“Val,” he dolefully exclaimed, as he encountered that young gentleman, “you’ve got to help me out of this.”

“Out of what?” said Val.

“Why, Bar hasn’t run away and George isn’t after him, but what am I to say about it?”

“Keep it up,” said Val.

“Keep what up?”

“Why, Bar is off!”

“Bar off? You don’t mean to say he’s cut it for good?” was Zebedee’s almost breathless response.

“Can’t say about that,” said Val. “All I know is that he went away this morning, and may be gone some days, if not longer. There’s a secret in it.”

“Is there?” said Zeb. “That’s a great comfort. You won’t tell old Sol, will you?”

[Pg 361]“Tell him what?”

“Why, the secret.”

“Oh, I don’t know it myself, and I ain’t half sure that Bar does. He’s gone after it.”

“And George, too, he must have a secret,” groaned Zeb. “I think I must tell Dorothy Jane to keep a sharp eye on Euphemia. Val Manning, it’ll be a bad thing for Ogleport to lose Bar Vernon just now.”

“Hang Ogleport!” exclaimed Val. “Think of me!”

“Yes,” said Zeb, with a look of deep sympathy out of his left eye, “your case is a hard one. Val, don’t you think the wind is rising a little?”

“Seems so,” said Val.

“And a bit westerly?”

“More and more west.”

“Val, the Academy ought to have a chance to express its grief over the loss of Bar Vernon. You and I had better go and carry the sad news to the old bell.”

Val felt as if that sort of thing would give his mind just the relief he needed, and by the time the bell had finished its midday work of[Pg 362] recalling the boys to their studies, its last duty for the day, the “van” in the western gap of the steeple had been securely hitched to the tolling gear, and two agile forms were creeping down-stairs as lightly and silently as cats.

“The wind will be higher towards night,” said Zeb to his friend, “but there’s no telling when the bell may begin to express his feelings.”

Nevertheless, they both returned to their desks and duties with a truly wonderful degree of firmness, sticking bravely to their books in spite of more than one ominous wave of grating sound which came creeping down upon them from the bell-tower.

There was that upon Dr. Dryer’s mind that day, which so absorbed it that no ordinary interruption would have sufficed to secure his attention.

Indeed, never in all their experience of him had his pupils been so puzzled to get at the meaning of his “explanations,” while he once so far wandered from an exact use of terms as to address Hy Allen as “Euphemia.”

Hiram was afterwards compelled to thrash half a dozen small boys and one large one before he[Pg 363] could deliver himself from the consequences of that slip of the tongue.

Hiram would rather have died than have submitted to being called Euphemia Allen, or even “Effie,” much as he doubtless admired the Doctor’s pretty daughter.

School was out at last, however, and Zebedee Fuller led the way to the mill-dam for the accustomed swim.

He found Gershom Todderley and Patrick Murphy strolling about outside the mill, in a way which plainly indicated their readiness to listen to any kind of news from “up-town.”

Nor were they by any means disappointed either as to quantity or quality, for Zeb relieved Val Manning of all necessity for answering questions.

“Hark!” suddenly exclaime............