CHAPTER IV.
THE "SOREHEADS" IN CONCLAVE Dave Darrin came stealing over, as soft-footed as any panther.
Dick did not turn around to look at his chum.

He merely held up a cautioning hand, and Darrin moved even more stealthily.
In another moment Dave's head was close to his chum's, and both young men were gazing upon the same scene.
"Davis and Fremont-----" whispered Darrin in his chum's ear.
"Bayliss, Porter and Drayne," Dick nodded back, softly.
"Trenhold, Grayson, Hudson," continued Darrin.
"All the 'soreheads,'" finished Dick Prescott for him.
"Or nearly all," supplemented Dave.
Indeed, the scene upon which these two High School boys gazed was one that greatly interested them.
On a little knoll, just beyond the line of bushes, and on lower ground, fully a dozen young men lounged, basking in the morning sun, which poured through upon this small, treeless space.
Though the young men down in the knoll were not carefully attired, there was a general similarity in their dress.

All wore sweaters, and nearly all of them wore cross-country shoes.

Evidently the whole party had been out for a cross country run.
Now, the dozen or so were eagerly engaged in conversation.
"It's too bad Purcell won't join us," remarked Davis.
"Yes," nodded another fellow in the group; "he belongs with us." "Oh, well," spoke up Bayliss, "if Purcell would rather be with the muckers, let him." "Now, let's not be too rank, fellows," objected Hudson slowly.
"I wouldn't call all the fellows muckers who don't happen to belong in our crowd." "What would you call 'em then ?" growled Bayliss angrily.

"Time was when only the fellows of the better families expected to go to High School, on their way to college.