"Are you hurt?" asked Dave, anxiously. The man in the buggy was a total stranger to him.
"Hurt? I don't know whether I am or not. What do you mean by knocking off my hat with that stick?"
"It was an accident, sir. We had our school colors on the fishing rod and were waving them in the air. We didn't expect to hit anybody."
"Bah! you are a lot of rowdies!" growled the man. "Give me my hat!" And he pointed to where the head covering rested on some bushes.
"There you are," said Ben, restoring the hat to its owner. "But we are not rowdies—it was purely an accident," he added, with a little flash out of his clear eyes.
"Bah, I know schoolboys! They think it smart to be tough!" The man looked his silk hat over. "I ought to make you buy me a new hat."
"That doesn't seem to be damaged any," said Buster, as he looked the tile over. "If it is, of course we'll make it right," he added, hastily. He and Luke were holding the fishing rod at the time of the accident.
"Do you boys belong at Oak Hall?" demanded the man, smoothing down the roughed-up silk hat with his forearm.
"Yes," answered Dave.
"I thought so. Well, if this hat is cracked or
