two." Cooke looked across at him sorrowfully.

"Are you going in for study?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so," answered Joel laughingly.

"My boy, don't do it. There's nothing gained. I've tried it, and I speak
from sad experience."

"But how do you get through?" questioned Joel.

"I will tell you." The stout youth leaned over and lowered his voice to
a confidential whisper. "I belong to the same society as 'Wheels,' and
he doesn't dare expel me."

"I wish," said Joel in the laugh that followed, "that I could join that
society."

"Easy enough," answered Cooke earnestly. "I will put your name up at our
next meeting. All you have to do is to forget all the Greek and Latin
and higher mathematics you ever knew, give your oath never to study
again, and appear at chapel two consecutive mornings in thigh boots and
a plaid ulster."

Despite West's pleas Joel refused to "cut" his recitation, promising,
however, to follow to the station as soon as he might.

"It's only a long mile," West asserted. "If you cut across Turner's
meadow you'll make it in no time. And the train isn't due until three.
You'll see me standing on the truck." And so Joel had promised, and