HOW IT STARTED The Adventure Club had its inception, one evening toward the last of June, in Number 17 Sumner Hall, which is the oldest, most vine-hidden and most hallowed of the seven dormitories of Dexter Academy.

It was a particularly warm evening, the two windows were wide open and the green-shaded light on the study table in the centre of the room had been turned low--Sumner prided itself on being conservative to the extent of gas instead of electricity and tin bathtubs instead of porcelain--and in the dim radiance the three occupants of the room were scarcely more than darker blurs.
Since final examinations had ended that afternoon and Graduation Day was only some twenty-eight hours away, none of the three was doing anything more onerous than yawning, and the yawn which came from Perry Bush, didn't sound as though it cost much of an effort.

It was, rather, a comfortable, sleepy yawn, one that expressed contentment and relief, a sort of "Glad-that's-over-and-I'm-still-alive" yawn.
There was a window-seat under each casement in Number 17, and each was occupied by a recumbent figure.

Perry was on the right-hand seat, his hands under his head and one foot sprawled on the floor, and Joe Ingersoll was in the other, his slim, white-trousered legs jack-knifed against the darker square of the open window.

Near Joe, his feet tucked sociably against Joe's ribs, Steve Chapman, the third of the trio, reclined in a Morris chair.