The Heroes of the School: or, The Darewell Chums Through Thick and Thin
TekstCHAPTER XI
HONORING THE SENIORS
“Oh!” screamed Jennie, as she made a rush from the platform and fell in a faint just as Alice Keene caught her.
“Oh!” cried several women teachers.
Professor McCloud and a number of the men instructors dashed for the animal, but it lowered its horns and shook its head in a way that made them hesitate.
“Take it away!”
“Let me hide!”
“Save me!”
Various girls were thus crying in different parts of the room.
“Come on, boys! Let’s get her out!” cried Bart as he advanced toward the cow. As he did so Mr. Kenton, the language teacher, came down from the platform and advanced upon the animal. He was very near sighted and a trifle deaf.
“What has happened?” he asked of Mr. Long. “Is it some visitor whom the pupils are cheering? I would like to meet him. He seems to be a great favorite.”
“It’s a cow,” Mr. Long said, beginning to laugh as he appreciated the joke. But Mr. Kenton had passed on unheeding and was right in front of the animal. He imagined the exercises had been interrupted by the entrance of some instructor from a neighboring institution, as they frequently attended on the closing day of the high school. Then Mr. Kenton, peering through his glasses saw what the intruder was.
“Why, it’s a cow!” he exclaimed in such an accent of strange surprise that the boys, girls and teachers burst into a roar of laughter. This effectually disposed of the fright, and the girls calmed down.
In the meanwhile several boys had surrounded the cow that had advanced into the room. Professor McCloud had hurried into his office for a long ruler. Several of the men teachers were looking for ropes, while others were calling down speaking tubes in frantic tones for the janitor.
Most of the women teachers had fled to a small room to the right of the platform, and a number of girls had hidden under the seats. Many of them, however, remained standing up to see what would happen.
“Come on, boys,” repeated Bart. “We’ll lead her out.”
At that moment a farmer appeared in the doorway behind the cow. He held a rope in one hand and a whip in the other. He seemed much surprised at the commotion on every side.
“I was waiting down in the yard for my cow,” he said, in a loud voice, “and when I heard this here racket I thought maybe the critter had broken loose. Has she caused you any trouble? Hadn’t ought to as she’s a very gentle, mild critter. Did the experiment succeed?”
“Experiment? What experiment?” inquired Professor McCloud indignantly. “Did you bring this cow here, sir?”
“Well I did, but I didn’t lead her upstairs. She followed a line of salt some one had sprinkled. She’s terrible fond of salt. All critters is.”
“What do you mean?” demanded the principal.
“Why I was visited by one of your teachers yesterday – at least he said he was a teacher – and he paid me five dollars for the hire of my cow for this afternoon. Said the faculty of the high school was going to experiment on her. Make her moo into one of them phonograph machines and then see if cows had a language of their own. Said it was for the benefit of the human race. So I agreed to bring the critter here. I left her with the teacher who met me downstairs, and then I went off to git a drink of cider. When I come back the cow was gone and I heard a terrible racket. Then I see some one had sprinkled a line of salt from that court, where I left the critter, right up the stairs. Course I knowed then what had happened. Is the experiment over?”
“What teacher came to you?” asked the principal, trying not to smile.
“Why he gave me his card,” and the farmer fumbled in his pocket. “Here it is. Mr. Bo Vine. Don’t he teach here?”
“I’m afraid there has been a mistake,” said Mr. McCloud. “We did not arrange for any experiment on a cow. I am sorry you had this trouble for nothing.”
“Oh, I got paid for it,” replied the farmer. “Maybe I made a mistake in the school.”
“Perhaps,” said the principal. “Can you induce your bovine quadruped to accompany you?”
“My what?” asked the farmer, looking about him in a puzzled manner.
“Your cow,” translated the principal.
“Oh, you mean this critter. Sure, yes, she’ll follow me. Come on, Bess,” and he held out a handful of salt, which the cow began to lick up greedily. Then the farmer retreated down the stairs, the animal slowly following.
“Sorry you couldn’t do that experiment,” Mr. Craft called out as he gave the cow more salt. “I’d liked to have heard that there phonograph machine. You see my critter’s real tame. She often comes up to the back door, and once, when she was a calf she came into the kitchen. So I said, when that there young feller, Mr. Bo Vine, asked if the cow could walk up a short flight of stairs, that she could. And she done it too,” he added proudly. “Well I’ll bid you good day,” and the farmer, who by this time had gotten the animal into the lower court placed a rope about the horns and led her away.
“So that’s Ned’s trick,” said Bart softly to his chums. “Wouldn’t wonder but what he’d be expelled for it.”
“If he gets found out,” put in Frank.
It was some time before the school quieted down. Jennie, under the ministrations of Alice, recovered from her fainting fit, and the prospective nurse began looking around for others whom she might practice on. But there were no more. The women teachers, and those girls who had hidden under desks returned to their seats.
“Young ladies and gentlemen,” began Professor McCloud, “this has been an unexpected – ”
Then he happened to think of Mr. Kenton’s mistake, and he had to turn aside to cover a laugh.
“I think, under the circumstances, we will omit the rest of the program,” he added. “I will say nothing further about – about the cow. I think I understand how it happened, and, in view of the fact that it is the close of the term, we will overlook what otherwise we could not. The seniors will now come forward and receive their diplomas and the exercises will be at an end.”
The senior class advanced to the platform and stood in a semi-circle about it. Ned’s chums noticed that he had quietly entered the assembly hall by a rear door and taken his seat.
“You’re a lucky dog,” whispered Bart.
“Why?” asked Ned, in seeming surprise.
“Oh, just as if you didn’t know! I always believed you were very fond of milk.”
“Milk?”
“Yes, and cows.”
“Cows? Was there a cow here?” and Ned acted as though that was the first he had heard of it. “I was in the laboratory getting some chemicals for home experiments during vacation,” he added with a perfect look of innocence on his face.
“Yes, you were,” and Bart smiled. “But never mind, – it was a peach of a joke. We’ll soon be out now.”
“Let’s serenade the seniors,” suggested Ned.
“How?” asked Frank, coming over to where the two chums were. Discipline had ended for the day, as the last of the diplomas had been presented without formality.
“Follow me. We’ve got to honor ’em somehow. It’s the last we’ll see of ’em.”
As the seniors, bearing their precious diplomas, filed out, which was a signal for the rest of the pupils to follow, the four chums, led by Ned, went down a rear stairway. Ned took them into the now deserted lunch room and produced several comical false faces, some paper hats of odd design and a number of tin fifes.
“Get some of the other fellows,” Ned said to Stumpy. “We must have enough for a band.”
About ten other lads came, in answer to Fenn’s quick summons, and were soon arrayed in the masks and caps, while their coats, turned wrong side out, added to their fantastic appearances.
“All ready!” called Ned, and then, every one playing a different tune on his fife, they marched out on the campus.
The seniors, in accordance with an old custom, had gathered in a circle about an ancient elm tree and were singing. The song was “Farewell to Thee, Dear Alma Mater,” and they were in the midst of the touching lines:
“We shall be here never more;
Some go to a foreign shore,”
“Toot! Toot!” sounded shrilly on the fifes and then the band of masqueraders, followed by scores of other boys and girls, began circling the seniors.
The farewell song was drowned in a burst of weird noises, tootings, yells and shouts.
“Farewell to the seniors!” called Ned.
“Farewell!” echoed the crowd.
“Here we go ’round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush!” sang Bart. “All join hands!”
Then began a mad, merry dance. The seniors looked on helplessly. Some of them were laughing, and some of the girls were crying just a little bit, at the thought of leaving all their happy comrades.
“Farewell, farewell, farewell!” the other pupils sang, as they ran around in a circle, hands joined to hands.
“Now give ‘em ’How Can I Bear to Leave Thee,’” suggested Ned, and the pupils quieted down and sang the song with feeling.
Then the circle broke up, and the seniors, waving their diplomas, and trying to say good-bye to scores at once, broke away from the old oak tree and started home – high school pupils no longer. But there were plenty left.
CHAPTER XII
FRANK’S QUEER LETTER
“What are we going to do this vacation?” asked Ned of his three chums, as they assembled the next Monday morning at the boat dock where they had agreed to meet.
“We had such a strenuous time Friday I haven’t been able to think of anything since,” said Frank. “Say that was the best last day yet, thanks to you, Ned.”
“That cow was the limit,” spoke Bart. “How did you happen to think of it?”
“Oh, it sort of came to me.”
“And the cow ‘sort of’ came up stairs,” cried Fenn. “Say, it was as good as a circus.”
“How did you do it?” asked Bart.
“It was easy enough once I got the farmer to consent. I met him down in the yard and laid the salt trail after he left. The cow did the rest.”
“Let’s go for a swim,” proposed Bart. “It’s getting hot, and the water ought to be fine. Come on up to the old hole.”
The idea pleased the others. They got their suits from the dock house where they kept them, and soon were in their boat rowing for the swimming hole, just below the Riffles.
“Wonder if we’ll see the King of Paprica?” said Bart.
“They needn’t worry; we’ll not bother ’em.”
“How do you know?” asked Frank quickly.
“Well I passed the place where the hut was the other day, and it was gone.”
“They may have moved it to another place because they didn’t want us to know where it was,” suggested Fenn.
“They needn’t worry, we’ll not bother ’em,” said Bart. “It’s too hot to tramp through the woods to-day.”
The boys rowed leisurely up the stream, keeping close in shore, where there was plenty of shade. At one place they could send the craft along under an arch of overhanging bushes which made a sort of bower.
They had scarcely entered this spot, which was about half a mile below the swimming hole, when there sounded a cracking in the woods that told them some one was walking along the shore.
“Wait a bit,” suggested Ned. “Let’s see if it’s any of the fellows.”
Bart and Fenn, who were rowing, rested on their oars, and all four boys listened. The noise came nearer. Suddenly there peered forth from the bushes a man who had every appearance of being a tramp.
His face had not felt a razor for several weeks. His coat was in tatters, and his trousers, into which was tucked a ragged blue shirt, were all frayed about the bottoms, and flapped like those on a scarecrow. His hat was a battered derby and on one foot he wore a boot, while the other was encased in a heavy shoe. He looked at the boys for several seconds.
“Hello,” he said at length, in a pleasant voice that contrasted strangely with his disreputable appearance. “Are you boys acquainted around here?”
“Pretty well,” replied Fenn.
“Well, you haven’t seen a short stout man, with a black moustache and black hair, anywhere around here, have you?”
“Did he have a gilt crown on?” asked Ned quickly.
“A gilt crown? No. Why should he wear a gilt crown?” and the tramp affected surprise.
“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering, that’s all,” and Ned winked at the other boys.
“I guess you can’t tell me what I want to know,” the tramp resumed. “I’m much obliged though. About how far is it to the lake?”
“Twelve miles from here,” replied Bart.
“Well, I guess I can make it by night,” the man said, and then he drew back into the bushes and the boys could hear him tramping through the woods.
“What made you ask him about the gilt crown?” inquired Frank.
“Because he partly described the man we saw at the hut that day,” replied Ned, “and I thought I might as well complete it. I guess he’s here to add to the mystery. It’s getting deeper. We must certainly solve it; or try to, at any rate.”
“You’d make a mystery out of a fish jumping for a fly,” said Frank. “Let up on it.”
“Whew! But it’s hot!” exclaimed Bart, as the boat was sent on, coming from the shady nook into the glare of the sun. “I’m going to stay in all morning.”
They were soon at the swimming hole, and lost little time in getting into the water. Its coolness was a welcome relief from the heat and they splashed about in great glee.
The boys were making such a noise, laughing and yelling that they did not hear the hail of a youth who came down to the edge of the bank, a little later, and shouted at them. Finally, however, he managed to make his presence known by a shrill whistle in imitation of a whip-poor-will.
“Why it’s John Newton!” exclaimed Fenn, recognizing the boy who had been expelled from school.
“I’ve got a letter for you, Frank,” said John.
“A letter for me?”
“Yes. Special delivery.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“From the post-office of course. I’m working there now as messenger. Heard you boys were here and as I had to come in this direction I brought it along.”
“Thought you were going to get a job in a theater,” remarked Bart.
“I am, some day, but I’ve got to go to New York for a good opening. There’s none around here for a real artist,” and John began to warble like a bob-o-link.
“Wonder who that letter’s from?” asked Frank.
“Better wade ashore and find out,” suggested Ned, and Frank did so.
His chums watched him take the letter from John and sign the book and then they too, began making their way toward shore. Frank dried his hands on his shirt, which was on top of his pile of clothes on the bank, and opened the envelope.
The letter must have been a short one, for he was only a few seconds in reading it. As he did so his chums could see a change come over his face.
“Bad news?” asked Bart sympathetically.
“No – yes – that is – I can’t tell you,” said Frank, speaking quickly. “I’ve got to hurry back home,” he added. “I’ll go on if you don’t mind, and not wait for you,” and he began to dress quickly.
“Aren’t you going back in the boat?” asked Ned.
“No, I think I’ll walk through the woods. I’ll take the short cut.”
“Anything we can do?” asked Bart.
“No – I wish I could tell you – but I can’t,” Frank replied. “I must send an answer at once.”
He thrust the letter into his trousers pocket and went on dressing himself. He completed his toilet in a hurry and walked off through the woods, taking the path the post-office messenger had used. The latter had departed as soon as he delivered the missive.
“Well, that’s a strange sort of letter Frank got,” commented Bart as he climbed out on the bank. “Hello!” he added. “He’s forgotten the envelope,” and he picked it up from the ground where Frank had dropped it.
CHAPTER XIII
SANDY ON GUARD
“Hurry after him,” suggested Ned.
“He’s too far by this time,” spoke Bart. “Besides I don’t fancy going through the woods in my bare feet. I guess it will keep.”
“Where’s it from?” asked Fenn. There seemed to be nothing wrong in looking at the postmark. Besides the chums seldom had secrets from each other.
“New York,” said Bart, turning the envelope over. “It is from a law firm,” he added as he looked at the name in the upper left hand corner. “Wright & Johnson, 11 Pine street.”
“I’ve got some relatives in New York,” remarked Ned. “I am going to see ’em some day.”
“Well, I don’t see how that will throw any light on Frank’s queer actions,” remarked Fenn. “Wonder what the trouble is?”
“If he doesn’t want to tell us I don’t see what right we’ve got to ask,” came from Ned. “Better not say anything more to him about it.”
“We’ll give him back the envelope,” suggested Bart, “and that will give him an opening if he wants to tell us anything. If he doesn’t – why I guess it’s his secret.”
That was decided to be the best move, and the boys dressed and got into the boat. They rowed leisurely back to the dock, speculating, at intervals, over Frank’s curious behavior.
“Maybe he’ll go to New York,” suggested Ned.
“He’s not likely to go without telling us,” came from Bart. “If he does he’ll see us before he goes.”
The lads remained at the dock some little time, cleaning their boat and mending a broken oar. As they were walking up the street toward the main part of town Ned exclaimed:
“There goes Frank now!”
The others looked and saw their chum just ahead of them, hurrying along.
“Where’s he going?” asked Bart.
A moment later they saw Frank enter the law office of Judge Benton.
“He seems to have quite some legal business,” observed Fenn. “Maybe some one has left him a lot of money.”
“Wish some one would leave me a bit,” observed Ned with a laugh.
Further consideration of Frank’s doings was interrupted for a moment as the chums met Lem Gordon.
“Hello Lem, where you going?” asked Ned.
“Got to go to the hardware store for some nails. Lot of jobs to do around the house and dad says I might as well keep busy during vacation. I planned to go fishing, too, but I guess I can do that this afternoon. Say, did you hear about Sandy?”
“No, what’s he done now.”
“Gone off camping in the woods, somewhere up along the river.”
“Any one with him?” asked Bart.
“No, all alone. Hired a tent that Sid Edwards used last year and went off by himself.”
“I thought he was afraid to stay out alone nights,” observed Stumpy.
“There’s something strange about it,” went on Lem. “Tom Jasper, who lives next door, told me he saw a strange man talking to Sandy in the back yard one day. The next day Sandy arranged to go camping.”
“What sort of a looking man was he?” asked Bart.
“All I remember is that he had a very black moustache.”
The three chums looked at one another. The same thought was in the mind of each, that the man might be the one who had called himself King of Paprica.
“I’d like to go camping myself.” Lem went on. “What you fellows going to do this vacation?”
“Haven’t made up our minds yet,” replied Ned. “We’ll have some fun, though.”
“Where’s Frank?” inquired Lem. “Seems funny not to see the four of you together.”
“He’ll be along pretty soon,” said Bart. “We were up to the swimming hole, and he had some business to attend to, so he came back ahead of us.”
“Well I’m going after those nails,” the pitcher went on. “The fence will fall down before I get back if I don’t hurry. It’s been threatening to topple for a week,” and he went on, whistling a merry tune.
“That’s funny about Sandy,” remarked Ned, when Lem was out of earshot.
“And about that black-moustached man,” went on Bart. “We’ll have to look into this. Hello, here comes Frank.”
Their chum emerged from Judge Benton’s place with a letter in his hand and hurried to the post-office, nearly across the street from the lawyer’s office. He remained inside only a few seconds, and evidently posted the missive for, when he came out, his hands were empty. Then he saw his chums and hurried over toward them.
“Sorry I had to run away,” Frank said, with a little bit of awkwardness in his air, “but I had to attend to some business in a hurry.”
“There’s the envelope you dropped,” said Bart. “We found it when we came out to dress.”
“Thanks,” replied Frank, and, without looking at it he put it into his pocket. “Say,” he went on, “what do you say to taking a walk after some wild flowers this afternoon?”
“Wild flowers; what for?” inquired Ned.
“Well, not for ourselves, of course,” Frank went on. “I happened to meet Miss Mapes, the teacher you know, and she asked me if I knew where there were any. There’s going to be an entertainment in her church and they want some to decorate with. I told her I thought I could get her plenty. Do you want to go?”
“Sure,” replied Bart, and the others nodded assent. Miss Mapes was a favorite with all the pupils.
“We’ll meet at the dock, right after dinner,” proposed Frank, “row up the river a way and then strike in through the woods. Right at the foot of Bender’s Hill ought to be a good place. The woods are thick and shady there.”
The others agreed to this and separated, to gather again about one o’clock.
“Stumpy, you and Bart row,” suggested Ned. “You need the exercise to keep you from getting fat, and Bart wants to keep in training for football next term.”
“Well, I like your nerve, Ned Wilding!” exclaimed Fenn.
“Same here!” came from Bart.
“I thought you would,” observed Ned coolly, as he went to the stern, prepared to steer.
“He and I will row back,” suggested Frank.
“That’s right, – take the easiest part – come down with the current,” growled Stumpy, but he took his place at the oars. Perhaps he thought he was getting too stout.
Bart grumbled some, but in a good-natured way, and ended by taking his place just ahead of Fenn, while Frank went to the bow, and soon they were underway.
They tied their boat in a secluded place about a mile above the Riffles and then struck off through the woods. It was two miles to Bender’s Hill, a small mountain named after the man on whose property it was located, and it was the highest point in the vicinity. All about it, as well as on the sides and top of the hill, were dense woods, not often visited.
After some hard tramping through underbrush and over fallen trees, which the boys did not seem to mind (though they would have growled if they had been obliged to do it) they came to a little clearing. They were about to cross it when there came a sudden hail:
“You fellows can’t come here!”
“I’d like to know why?” inquired Bart without seeing who had spoken.
“Because I’m here on guard to see that no one passes,” and at that the boys glanced up, to see Sandy Merton, with a little target rifle in his hands, standing on the other edge of the clearing.