There was a sensation the next morning when Mr. Collins announced after Chapel that the hockey cup had disappeared from No. 28 Clarke. “It is only to be supposed,” said the assistant principal, “that whoever took the cup out of the room did so as a joke. If the person will return the cup this morning, before dinner-time, I shall consider it a joke, too, although a joke in rather poor taste. If the cup is not returned by that time I shall see that the offender is punished. The Pennimore Cup is school property and there is, as you all know, a severe penalty for damaging or removing property belonging to the school. Aside from this consideration, the cup is needed to-morrow when Broadwood comes here to play hockey, and it should be the effort of every fellow to see that it is returned promptly to the office or to the manager or captain of the hockey team.”

The school in general accepted the disappearance[255] of the cup as a very excellent jest, and fellows begged each other playfully to “give it up. We know you’ve got it. Be good and hand it back!” But when, in the afternoon, it was learned that the missing trophy had not been returned the amusement changed to indignation. By that time Alf was thoroughly worried, and the short practice went somewhat listlessly. Gerald had seen Harry Merrow and had learned from that youth, first swearing him to secrecy, that Jake Hiltz had been on the river for at least half an hour after Gerald had stopped on the bridge. After that Harry knew nothing of Hiltz’s whereabouts. Gerald reported this to Dan and Alf and Tom after practice.

“I say let’s find Hiltz and put it up to him,” said Dan impatiently. “We could say that he was seen in the building yesterday afternoon.”

“That would be a lie, wouldn’t it?” asked Tom mildly.

“Well, isn’t a lie excusable in a case of this sort?” retorted Dan.

“I don’t think so. You don’t, either, Dan. A lie’s a lie, no matter when you tell it.”

“Well, what in thunder can we do?” Dan demanded, yielding the point without argument.

“We can’t do anything,” said Alf bitterly,[256] “except wait in the hope that whoever took the cup will bring it back before the game to-morrow.”

“But that’s poppycock,” said Dan. “If he had been going to return it he would have done it to-day before dinner and got off without trouble. Now he knows that Collins will make it hot for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if we never saw that cup again!”

“Nonsense!” said Tom.

“Of course,” said Gerald, “if it didn’t come back dad could have another made; he’d be glad to, I know. But——”

“Meanwhile we’ve got to tell Broadwood that we’ve lost it!” interrupted Alf.

“We haven’t lost it; it’s been stolen,” Tom corrected.

“It amounts to the same thing. We haven’t got it, have we? They’ll think it’s a fine joke and have the laugh on us.”

“Let them,” said Tom. “If we beat them to-morrow I guess they can laugh all they want to.”

“Maybe we won’t beat them,” muttered Alf discouragedly.

“Oh, buck up, Alf! Of course we’ll beat them!” said Dan heartily. “Let’s forget about the cup until to-morrow. There’s nothing more we can do. Don’t let it get on your nerves, Alf;[257] you want to be able to play your best game, you know.”

“I’m afraid it’s got on my nerves already,” replied Alf with an attempt at a smile. “Well, you’re right, though; we’ve done all we can do, that’s certain. Unless we find Hiltz and choke him until he ’fesses up.”

“I don’t believe he has it—somehow,” mused Dan.

“I know he has!” said Gerald positively.

“How do you know it?” Tom demanded. But Gerald only shook his head.

“I just do,” he answered. “I—I feel it!”

“I wish you could see it instead of feeling it,” said Alf, with a laugh, as he got up. “Hang that cup, anyway! I’m going to supper. A fellow has to eat, I guess.”

“I’m sure I have to,” said Tom, following his example. “I’ve got an appetite to-night, too. I suppose that under the unfortunate circumstances I ought not to be hungry, but I am.”

“So am I,” said Dan quite cheerfully. “Anyway, we won’t find the cup by sitting here and talking about it. I’m not going to think any more about the pesky thing. Perhaps it will show up in the morning somehow. Come on, Gerald.”

[258]

“I’m not hungry,” answered his roommate dolefully.

“Oh, yes, you are,” said Dan laughingly. “Or you will be when you get to commons. Think of the nice hot biscuits, Gerald!”

Gerald, however, refused to be comforted and followed the others over to Whitson with lugubrious countenance. Truth, though, compels me to state that ten minutes later Gerald was doing quite well with those same hot biscuits!

Saturday morning came and the mystery of the Pennimore Cup was still unexplained. Mr. Collins made another plea for its return and threatened to expel the one who had taken it if it was not forthcoming at once. The students listened in respectful silence, but no one arose dramatically and produced the missing cup. All sorts of theories were going the rounds by now. The most popular one was to the effect that a professional thief had seen the cup in the window in Greenburg and had followed Gerald back to school and had later sneaked up to his room and stolen it. It was quite plausible and there was a general sentiment to the effect that Gerald had had a lucky escape from being robbed on the way from Greenburg, in which case he might have been killed by the desperate burglar. Few any longer[259] believed that the cup had been taken as a practical joke, and, when dinner-time arrived and it had not appeared, even Alf and Dan and Tom abandoned their first suspicions. Only Gerald was obdurate.

“Hiltz took it,” he affirmed stoutly, “and he’s got it now.”

And nothing any of the others could say in any way affected his conviction.

Alf gave up hoping. His dejection, however, had turned to anger, and Dan was glad to see it, since it promised better results on the rink than the captain’s half-hearted, down-in-the-mouth condition of yesterday.

“As soon as the game is over,” declared Alf wrathfully, “I’m going straight to the police. That’s what we ought to have done yesterday morning instead of letting Collins sputter about it all this time. Maybe if we had we’d have the cup now.”

“I guess we’d better tell Collins first, though,” said Dan. “If the police are to be called in I suppose he’d better do it.”

“Well, I’ll tell him. But if he doesn’t get the police I will. The whole thing’s a disgrace to the school!”

The hockey game was to start at three, and[260] an hour before that time the advance guard began to arrive from Broadwood and Greenburg. It was a glorious day, cold enough to keep the ice hard and mild enough to allow spectators to watch the game in comfort. There was scarcely a ripple of air, and what there was blew softly out of the southwest and was too kindly to bite ears or nip noses. At half past two three big coaches climbed the hill containing the Broadwood team and as many of its loyal supporters as had been able to crowd into the vehicles. Others had already arrived on foot and more followed. As it was Saturday afternoon many Greenburg enthusiasts swelled the throng of students, and long before either team appeared on the ice the rink was fringed four deep with spectators and all sorts of contrivances had been fashioned by late arrivals from which to look over the heads of those in front. French had requisitioned as many settees as he could find, and these were supplemented with boxes and planks, and finally the locker room in the gymnasium was a............