“Hey, Jim! Fred! Come and see what I've found.”
The captive Crashaw grinned and made no attempt to get away. He seemed big enough to free himself if he cared to—more sturdy and heavy than Blanchard, even though a year or two younger. But he remained quiet in Blanchard’s grasp and offered the two boys who came up a cheerful smile.
“What is it, Blanche?” said Jim Payne.
“Guess what it is!” cried Blanchard. It says it’s a brother of Crashaw of St. John’s.”
“Charley Crashaw—St. John’s captain?”
They looked at the stranger with widening eyes.
“Yes.” His grin became deprecating. “I admit it.”
“That’s funny,” remarked Bell. “How did you happen to come to St. Timothy’s then?”
“Oh, Charley and I are always scrapping—always on opposite sides,” Crashaw answered.
“I’m always scrapping with my kid brother,” said Blanchard. “But I would n’t let him go to St. John’s.”
