shaky on that. I guess, though, you'll pull through alive."

"Bobbie, you're my guiding angel," returned the elder boy yawning.
"When I make my pile and die rich I'm going to leave you all my
money."

"Great Hat! Hear him. Leave me your money! What do you suppose I'm
going to be doing while you're rolling up your millions? I intend to
be rich myself, thank you," retorted Bob, throwing down his book.
"Now for the plum-cake! You deserve about half the loaf, old man,
but I shan't give it to you, for it would make you sick as a dog,
and then I'd have you to take care of. Oh, I say, listen a minute!
Isn't that the crowd coming from the gym? Open the window and
whistle to them. Tell 'em to pile up here for a feed. And get your
muscle to work on this olive bottle, Van. I can't get the cork out."




CHAPTER II

A NARROW ESCAPE


The dreaded examinations came and went and, as Van Blake expressed
it, were passed with honor by Bobbie and with dishonor by himself.
After the last one was over it was with a breath of relief that the
two lads tossed pajamas and fresh linen into their suit-cases;
collected snow-shoes and sweaters; and set out on their New
Hampshire visit.