exclaimed. "I'll wager old Sharp will make him suffer good and
proper."

"Maybe they'll suspend Rover," said Bart Larkspur. "But that would be
carrying it pretty far, wouldn't it?"

"They won't suspend him, but he'll surely be punished," came from Dudd
Flockley. "By the way, are you sure it was a photo of Sharp's best
girl?"

"Yes; but she isn't a girl, she's a woman, and not particularly
good-looking at that," answered Jerry Koswell.

"Well, Sharp isn't so very handsome," answered Larkspur. "His nose is
as sharp as his name."

"I suppose Rover will wonder how somebody got hold of that case of
pencils and crayons," remarked Flockley. "If he--"

"Hello, Max!" cried a voice from behind the bushes, and the next
moment a stout youth landed on Max Spangler's back, carrying him down
with a crash in the brushwood. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

At the interruption the whole Flockley crowd started to their feet,
and turning, beheld not only Max and the boy who had come up so
suddenly, but also Songbird. The latter was nearest to them, and
Koswell eyed him with sudden suspicion.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, while Max and his friend were
wrestling in a good-natured way in the bushes.