"Yes, and we might have won if Larry hadn't slipped and sprained
his ankle," put in Sam. "Well, never mind; better luck next time.
We'll play them again next fall." Sam was right so far as a game
between the rival academies was concerned, but none of the Rover
boys were on hand to take part in the contest -- for reasons which
the chapter to follow will disclose.

With the football came kite-flying, and wonderful indeed were some
of the kites which the boys manufactured.

"I can tell you, if a fellow had time he could reduce kite-flying
to a regular science," said Dick.

"Oh, Dick, don't give us any more science!" cried Sam. "We get
enough of science from, Uncle Randolph, with his scientific
farming, fowl-raising, and the like. I would just as lief fly an
old-fashioned kite as anything."

"Dick is right, though," put in Fred Garrison. "Now you have a
big flat-kite there, three times larger than mine. Yet I'll wager
my little box kite will fly higher than your kite."

"Done!" cried Sam. "What shall the wager be?"

"Ice cream for the boys of our dormitory," answered Fred.

"All right, but how is a fellow to get the cream if he loses?"

"That's for him to find out, Sam. If I lose I'll sneak off to
Cedarville, as Dick did once, and buy what I need."