It was a clear night, with no moon, but with countless stars bespangling the heavens. All was quiet around Oak Hall, and the three boys found it an easy matter to steal across the campus, gain the shade of a row of oaks, and get out on the side road leading to the Cadmore farm.
"We don't want to get nabbed at this," was Phil's comment. "If Farmer Cadmore caught us, he would make it mighty warm. He's as irritable as old Farmer Brown, and you'll remember what a time we had with him and his calf."
"Does he keep a dog?" asked Dave. "I haven't any use for that sort of an animal, if he is savage."
"No, he hasn't any dog," answered Phil. "I was asking about it last week." But Phil was mistaken; Jabez Cadmore did have a dog—one he had purchased a few days before. He was a good-sized mastiff, and far from gentle.
Walking rapidly, it did not take the three boys long to reach the first of Farmer Cadmore's fields. This was of corn, and passing through it andover a potato patch, they came to an orchard, wherein they knew the ram was tied to one of the trees.
"Now, be careful!" whispered Dave, as he leaped the rail-fence of the orchard. "Somebody may be stirring around the farmhouse"—pointing to the structure some distance away.
"Oh, they must be in bed by this time," said Phil. "Farmers usually retire early. Cadmore is a close-fisted chap, and he won't want to burn up his oil or his candles."
With hearts which beat rather rapidly, the boys stole along from one tree to another. Then they saw a form rise out of the orchard grass, and all gave a jump. But it was only the ram, and the animal was more frightened than themselves.
"Look out that he doesn't butt you," warned Dave. "Some of 'em are prettyrambunctious."
They approached the ram with caution, and untied him. Then Phil started to lead him out of the orchard, with Dave and Sam following. At first he would not go, but then began to run, so that Phil kept up with difficulty.
"Stop!" cried the boy. "Not so fast! Don't you hear?" But the ram paid no attention, and now turned to the very end of the orchard. Here the ground was rough, and in a twinkling all three of the boys went down in a hollow and rolled overand over, while the ram, finding himself free, plunged on, and was hidden from view in the darkness.
"He got away!" gasped Phil, scrambling up. "We must—Hark!"
He stopped short, and all of the boys listened. From a distance came the deep baying of the mastiff. The sounds drew closer rapidly.
"A dog—and he is after us!" cried Dave. "Fellows, we have got to get out of this!"
"If we can!" replied Sam Day. "Which is the way out? I am all turned around."
So were the others, and they stared into the darkness under the apple trees in perplexity. The dog was coming closer, and to get away by running appeared to be out of the question.
"Jump into a tree!" cried Dave, and showed the way. The others followed, clutching at some low-hanging branches and pulling themselves up as rapidly as possible. Dave and Sam were soon safe, but the mastiff, making a bound, caught Phil by the sole of his shoe.
"Hi!" roared Phil. "Let go!" And he kicked out with the other foot. This made the mastiff make another snap, but his aim was poor, and he dropped back to the ground, while Phil hauled himself up beside his companions.
"Phew! but that was a narrow escape and no mistake," was the comment of the big youth, afterhe could catch his breath. "I thought sure he had me by the foot!"
"We are in a pickle," groaned Sam. "I suppose that dog will camp right at the foot of this tree till Farmer Cadmore comes."
"Yes, he is camping now," announced Dave, peering down into the gloom. The moment the mastiff saw him, the canine set up a loud barking.
For a full minute after that none of the boys spoke, each being busy with his thoughts.
"We are treed, that is certain," said Phil, soberly. "And I must say I don't see any way to escape."
"Yes, and don't forget about the ram," added Sam. "Old Jabez Cadmore will want to know about him, too."
"I've got an idea," said Dave, presently. "Perhaps it won't work, but it won't do any harm to try it."
"Give it to us, by all means!"
"The trees are pretty thick in this orchard. Let us try to work our way from one tree to another until we can reach the fence. Then, perhaps, we can drop outside and get out of the way of that animal."
This was considered a good plan, and they proceeded to put it into execution at once. It was no easy matter to climb from tree to tree, and each got a small rent in his clothing, and Sam came nearfalling to the ground. The mastiff watched them curiously, barking but little, much to their satisfaction.
At last, they came to the final row of apple trees. A long limb hung over a barbed-wire fence, and the boys paused, wondering if it would be safe to drop to the ground.
"If that mastiff should come through the fence, it would go hard with us," was Phil's comment. "I'd rather stay up here and take what comes."
"I am going to risk it," answered Dave. "I see a stick down there, and I'll grab that as soon as I land," and down he dropped, and caught up the stick with alacrity. The dog pounced forward, struck the sharp barbs of the fence, and retreated, howling dismally with pain. Then he made another advance, with like results.
"Hurrah! he can't get through!" ejaculated Dave. "Come on, fellows, it's perfectly safe." And down his chums dropped, and all hurried away from the vicinity of the orchard.
"We had better be getting back," said Sam, after the orchard and potato patch had been left behind. "That farmer may be coming after us before we know it. He must have heard the dog." But in this he was mistaken, the distance from the house was too great, and the farmer and his family slept too soundly to be disturbed.
"It's too bad we must go back without the ram,"observed Dave. "The other fellows will think we got scared and threw up the job."
"Well, it can't be helped," began Phil, when he caught sight of something moving along the road ahead of them. "Look! Is that the ram?"
"It is!" exclaimed Dave. "Wait! If you are not careful, he'll run away again. Stay here, and I'll catch him. I was brought up on a farm, and I know all about sheep."
The others came to a halt, and Dave advanced with caution until he was within a few feet of the ram. Then he held out his hand and made a peculiar sound. The ram grew curious and remained quiet, while the youth picked up the end of the rope which was around the animal's neck.
"I've got him," he said, in a low, even tone. "Now, keep to the rear and I'll manage him." And on they went. Once in a while the ram showed a disposition to butt and to stop short, but Dave coaxed him, and the trouble was not great.
When they came in sight of the school building, they realized that the most difficult part of the task lay before them. It was decided that Dave should keep the ram behind the gymnasium building until Sam and Phil ascertained that the coast was clear.
Left to himself, Dave tied the ram to a post and crawled into the gymnasium by one of the windows. He procured several broad straps, and also a smallblanket. Just as he came out with the things, Sam and Phil came hurrying back, each with a look of deep concern on his face.
"The jig is up!" groaned Sam. "Plum and Poole are on to our racket, and they won't let us in!"
"Plum and Poole!" exclaimed Dave. "Are they at that back door?"
"Yes, and when we came up, they jeered us," said Phil. "Oh, but wasn't I mad! They said if we tried to force our way in, they'd ring up the doctor, or Mr. Dale."
"Does our crowd know about this?"
"I don't think they do."
"Plum and Poole intend to keep us out all night, eh?"
"It looks that way. They said we could ask Haskers to let us in when he came."
"I am not going to Haskers," said Dave, firmly. "Sam, you look after this ram for a few minutes. I'll make them let us in, and not give us away, either. Phil, you come along."
"But I don't see how you are going to do it," expostulated the big boy.
"Never mind; just come on, that's all. Plum isn't going to have a walk-over to-night."
Somewhat mystified, Phil accompanied Dave across the campus and to the rear door of the Hall. Here the barrier was open only a few inches, withPlum peering out, and Poole behind him. The face of the bully wore a look of triumph.
"How do you like staying out?" he whispered, hoarsely. "Fine night for a ramble, eh? You can tell old Haskers what a fine walk you have had! He'll be sure to reward you handsomely!"
"See here, Plum, I am not going to waste words with you to-night," said Dave, in a low, but intense, tone. "You let us in, and at once, or you'll regret it."
"Will I?"
"You will. And what is more: don't you dare to say a word to anybody about what is happening now."
"Oh, dear, but you can talk big! Maybe you want me to get down on my knees as you pass in," added the bully, mockingly.
"If you don't let us in, do you know what I shall do?" continued Dave, in a whisper. "I shall go to Doctor Clay and tell him that you are in the habit of going out after midnight to row on the river."
If Dave had expected this statement to have an effect upon the bully, his anticipations were more than realized. Gus Plum uttered a cry of dismay and fell back on Nat Poole's shoulder. His face lost its color, and he shook from head to foot.
"Yo-you——" he began. "Wha-what do you know about my—my rowing on the river?"
"I know a good deal."
"Yo-you've been—following—me?" For once the bully could scarcely speak.
"I shan't say any more," said Dave, giving his chum a pinch in the arm to keep quiet. "Only, are you going to let us in or not?"
"N-no—I mean, yes," stammered Gus Plum. He could scarcely collect himself, he seemed so upset. "You can come in. Poole, we'll have to let them in this time."
"And you will keep still about this?" demanded Dave.
"Yes, yes! I won't say a word, Porter, not a word! And—and I'll see you to-morrow after school. I—that is—I want to talk to you. Until then, mum's the word on both sides." And then, to the astonishment of both Dave and Phil, Gus Plum hurried away, dragging Nat Poole with him.
"My gracious, Plum acts as if he was scared to death," observed Phil, after the bully and his companion had departed, leaving the others a clear field.
"He certainly was worked up," returned Dave. "I wonder what he'll have to say to-morrow?"
There was no answering that question, and the two boys hurried to where they had left Sam without attempting to reach a conclusion. They found their chum watching out anxiously.
"Well?" came from his lips as soon as he saw them.
"It's all right," answered Dave, and told as much as he deemed necessary. "Come, we must hurry, or Job Haskers will get back before we can fix things."
"This ram is going to be something to handle," observed Phil. "No 'meek as a lamb' about him."
"I'll show you how to do the trick," answered the boy from the country, and with a dexterous turn of the horns, threw the ram over on one side."Now sit on him, until I tie his legs with the straps."
In a few minutes Dave had the animal secured, and the blanket was placed over the ram's head, that he might not make too much noise. Then they hoisted their burden up between them and started toward the Hall.
It was no easy matter to get the ram upstairs and into Job Haskers' room. On the upper landing they were met by Roger and Buster Beggs, who declared the coast clear. Once in the room of the assistant teacher, they cleared out the bottom of the closet and then, releasing the animal from his bonds, thrust him inside and shut and locked the door, leaving the key in the lock.
"Now, skip!" cried Dave, in a low voice. "He may cut up high-jinks in another minute."
"Here is an apple he can have—that will keep him quiet for awhile," said Roger, and put it in the closet, locking the door as before. The ram was hungry, and began to munch the fruit with satisfaction.
A few minutes more found the boys safe in their dormitory, where they waited impatiently for the second assistant teacher to get back to Oak Hall. At last they heard him unlock the front door and come up the broad stairs. Then they heard his room door open and shut.
"Now for the main act in the drama," whispered Roger. "Come on, but don't dare to make any noise."
All of the boys, including little Macklin and Polly Vane, were soon outside of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12—the two rooms the "crowd" occupied. They went forth on tiptoe, scarcely daring to breathe.
Arriving at Job Haskers' door, they listened and heard the teacher preparing to go to bed. One shoe after another dropped to the floor, and then came a creaking of the bed, which told that he had lain down.
"That ram isn't going to do anything," began Sam, in disgust, when there came a bang on the closet door that caused everybody to jump.
"Wha-what's that?" cried Job Haskers, sitting up in bed. He fancied somebody had knocked on the door to the hall.
Another bang resounded on the closet door. The ram had finished the apple, and wanted his freedom. The teacher leaped to the middle of the bedroom floor.
"Who is in there?" he demanded, walking toward the closet. "Who is there, I say?"
Getting no answer, he paused in perplexity. Then a grin overspread his crafty face, and he slipped on some of his clothing.
"So I've caught you, eh?" he observed. "Going to play some trick on me, were you? I am half of amind to make you stay there all night, no matter who you are. I suppose you thought I wouldn't get back quite so early. In the morning, I'll——"
Another bang on the door cut his speculations short. He struck a match and lit the light, and then unlocking the closet door, threw it wide open.
What happened next came with such suddenness that Job Haskers was taken completely by surprise. As soon as the door was opened, the ram leaped out. He caught one glimpse of the teacher, and, lowering his head, he made a plunge and caught Job Haskers fairly and squarely in the stomach, doubling up the man like a jack-knife. Haskers went down in a heap, and, turning, the ram gave him a second prod in the side.
"Hi! stop! murder! help!" came in terror. "Stop it, you beast! Hi! call him off, somebody! Oh, my!" And then Job Haskers tried to arise and place a table between himself and the ram. But the animal was now thoroughly aroused, and went at the table with vigor, upsetting it on the teacher and hurling both over into a corner.
By this time the noise had aroused nearly the entire school, and pupils and teachers came hurrying from all directions.
"What is the trouble here?" demanded Andrew Dale, as he came up to where Dave was standing.
"Sounds like a bombardment in Mr. Haskers' room, sir," was the answer.
"Mr. Haskers is trying some new gymnastic exercises," came from a student in the rear of the crowd.
"Maybe he has got a fit," suggested another. "He didn't look well at supper time."
The racket in the room continued, and now Doctor Clay, arrayed in a dressing-gown and slippers, came upon the scene, followed by Pop Swingly, the janitor.
"Has Mr. Haskers caught a burglar?" asked the janitor.
"That's it!" shouted Phil, with a wink at his friends. "Look out, Swingly, that you don't get shot!"
"Shot?" gasped the janitor, who was far from being a brave man. "I don't want to get shot, not me!" and he edged behind some of the boys.
Doctor Clay hurried to the door of the room, only to find it locked from the inside.
"Mr. Haskers, what is the trouble?" he demanded.
Another bang and a thump was the only reply, accompanied by several yells. Then, of a sudden, came a crash of glass and an exclamation of wonder.
"Something has gone through the window, as sure as you are born!" whispered Dave to Roger.
"Oh, Dave, you don't suppose it was Haskers? If he fell to the ground, he'd be killed!"
"Open the door, or I shall break in!" thundered Doctor Clay, and then the door was thrown open and Job Haskers stood there, a look of misery on his face and trembling from head to foot.
"What is the trouble?" asked the doctor.
"The ram—he butted me—knocked me down—nearly killed me!" spluttered the assistant teacher.
"The ram—what ram?"
"He's gone now—hit the window and jumped out."
"Mr. Haskers, have you lost your senses?"
"No, sir. There was a ram in this room—in the closet. I heard him, and opened the door—I—oh! I can feel the blow yet. He was a—a terror!"
"Do you mean a real, live ram?" questioned Andrew Dale, with a slight smile on his face—that smile which made all the boys his friends.
"I should say he was alive! Oh, it's no laughing matter!" growled Job Haskers. "He nearly killed me!"
"An' did he go through the winder?" asked Pop Swingly, as he stepped to the broken sash.
"He did—went out like a rocket. Look at the wreck of the table! I am thankful I wasn't killed!"
"How did the ram get here?" asked Doctor Clay.
"How should I know? He was in the closet when I came in. Some of those villainous boys—"
"Gently, Mr. Haskers. The boys are not villains."
"Well, they put the ram there, I am sure of it."
The doctor turned to the janitor.
"Swingly, go below and see if you can see anything of the ram. He may be lying on the ground with a broken leg, or something like that. If so, we'll have to kill him, to put him out of his misery."
The janitor armed himself with a stout cane and went downstairs, and after him trooped Andrew Dale and fully a score of boys. But not a sign of the ram was to be seen, only some sharp footprints where he had landed.
"Must have struck fair an' square, an' run off," observed the janitor. "Rams is powerful tough critters. I knowed one as fell over a stone cliff, an' never minded it at all."
"Let us take a look around," said the first assistant. "Boys, get to bed, you'll take cold in this night air." And then the students trooped back into the Hall.
Upstairs they found that Job Haskers and Doctor Clay had gotten into a wrangle. The assistant wanted an examination of the boys at once, regardless of the hour of the night, but Doctor Clay demurred.
"We'll investigate in the morning," said he. "And, as the window is broken out, Mr. Haskers, you may take the room next to mine, which is just now vacant."
"Somebody ought to be punished——"
"We'll investigate, do not fear."
"It's getting worse and worse. By and by there won't be any managing these rascals at all," grumbled the assistant teacher. "Some of them ought to have their necks wrung!"
"There, that is enough," returned the doctor, sternly. "I think we can manage them, even at such a time as this. Now, boys," he continued, "go to bed, and do not let me hear any more disturbances." And he waved the students to their various dormitories.
"Say, but isn't old Haskers mad!" exclaimed Roger, when he and his chums were in their dormitory. "He'd give a good bit to find out who played the joke on him."
"I hope that ram got away all right," came from Dave. "I didn't want to see the animal injured."
"I think Pop Swingly is right, animals like that are tough," was Buster Beggs' comment. "More than likely he is on his way back to Farmer Cadmore's farm."
"We'll find out later on," put in Sam Day.
"There is another thing to consider," continued Dave. "It wouldn't be right to let Doctor Clay stand for the expense of that broken window. I think I'll send him the price of the glass out of my pocket money."
"Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Phil. "Let us pass around the hat. We are all in this as deep as you." And so it was decided that all of the students of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 should contribute to the fund for mending the broken sash. Then, as Andrew Dale came around on a tour of inspection, all hopped into bed and were soon sound asleep.
When Doctor Clay came to his desk on the following morning, he found an envelope lying there, on which was inscribed the following:
"To pay for the broken window. If it costs more, please let the school know, and we'll settle the bill." Three dollars was inclosed.
This caused the worthy doctor to smile quietly to himself. It took him back to his college days, when he had aided in several such scrapes.
"Boys will be boys," he murmured. "They are not villains, only real flesh-and-blood youngsters."
"You are going to punish those boys?" demanded Job Haskers, coming up.
"If we can locate them."
"Humph! I'd catch them, if it took all day."
"You may do as you think best, Mr. Haskers; only remember you have young gentlemen to deal with. I presume they thought it only a harmless prank."
"I'll prank them, if I catch them," growled the assistant to himself, as he walked away.
Word had been passed around among the boys,and when the roll was called all were ready to "face the music."
"Who knows anything about the proceedings of last night?" began Job Haskers, gazing around fiercely.
There was a pause, and then a rather dull boy named Carson arose.
"Great Cæsar! Is he going to blab on us?" murmured Phil.
"What have you got to say, Carson?" asked the teacher.
"I—I—I kn-know wh-what happened," stuttered Carson.
"Very well, tell me what you know?"
"A ra-ra-ra-ram got into your ro-ro-ro-room, and he kno-kno-kno-knocked you d-d-d-down!" went on the boy, who was the worst stutterer at Oak Hall.
"Ahem! I know that. Who put the ram in my room?"
"I d-d-d-d——"
"You did!" thundered the teacher. "How dare you do such a thing!"
"I d-d-d-d——"
"Carson, I am—er—amazed. What made you do it?"
"I d-d-d-didn't say I d-d-d-did it," spluttered poor Carson. "I said I d-d-d-didn't know."
"Oh!" Job Haskers' face fell, and he lookedas sour as he could. "Sit down. Now, then, whoever knows who put that ram in my room last night, stand up."
Not a boy arose.
"Will anybody answer?" stormed the teacher.
There was utter silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Dave looked at Gus Plum and Nat Poole, but neither budged.
"I shall call the roll, and each boy must answer for himself," went on Job Haskers. "Ansberry!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers," was the reply, and the pupil dropped back into his seat.
"Humph! Aspinwell!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers."
"Babcock!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers."
"This is—er—outrageous! Beggs!"
"Sorry, but I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers," drawled the fat youth.
After that, one name after another was called, and every pupil said practically the same thing, even Plum and Poole stating that they could tell nothing. When the roll-call was finished, the teacher was fairly purple with suppressed rage.
"I shall inquire into this at some future time!" he snapped out. "You are dismissed to your classes." And he turned away to hide his chagrin.
"Do you think we are safe?" whispered Phil to Dave, as they hurried to their room.
"I think so," was the country boy's reply. And Dave was right—the truth concerning the night's escapade did not come out until long after, when it was too late to do anything in the matter.
Dave was anxious to make a record for himself in his studies, and, with the end of the term so close at hand, he did his best over his books and in the classroom. He was close to the top of his class, and he was already certain of winning a special prize given for mathematics. Roger was just behind him in the general average, and Phil was but five points below, with a special prize for language to his credit. The best scholar of all was Polly Vane, who, so far, had a percentage of ninety-seven, out of a possible hundred.
Dave had not forgotten what Gus Plum had said, and just before the session for the day was ended received a note from the bully, asking him to come down to a point on the lake known as the Three Rocks, and located at the extreme limit of the academy grounds. Plum asked him particularly to come alone.
"Aren't you afraid Plum will play some trick on you?" asked Phil, who saw the note delivered, and read it.
"I'll be on my guard," answered Dave. "I am not afraid of him, if it should come to an encounter between us."
Having put away his books, Dave sauntereddown to the spot mentioned, which was behind a thick fringe of bushes. Plum was not yet there, but soon came up at a quick walk.
"I couldn't get away from Poole," explained the bully. "Are you alone?" and he gazed around anxiously.
"Yes, I am alone," answered Dave, coolly.
There was a silence, and each boy looked at the other. Dave's eyes were clear, but the bully's had something of the haunted in them.
"You said something about me last night," began Plum, lamely, "something about my being on the river."
"I did."
"Did you see me on the river?"
"I am not going to answer that question just yet, Plum."
"Huh! Maybe you are only joking?"
"Very well, you can think as you please. If you want to talk to me, very well; if not, I'll go back to the school," and Dave started to walk away.
"Hold on!" The bully caught the country boy by the arm. "If you saw me on the river, what else did you see?"
"You were following Shadow Hamilton in a boat."
"I wasn't—I didn't have anything to do with Hamilton. I—I didn't know he was out till afterwards," went on the bully, fiercely. "Don't yousay such a thing—don't you dare!" His face was very white. "You are not going to get me into trouble!"
"Is that all you have to say, Plum?"
"N-no. I want to talk this over, Porter. I—that is—let us come to terms—that's the best way. It won't do you any good to try to get me into trouble. I—I haven't done anything wrong. I was out on the river by—by accident, that's all—got it into my head to have a lark that night, just as you went out for a lark last night."
"Well, what do you want to see me about, then?" questioned Dave. He could readily see that the bully had something on his mind which troubled him greatly.
"I think we might as well come to terms—you keep still and I'll keep still."
"I haven't said anything, Plum."
"Yes, but you might, later on, you know. I—that is, let us make a sure thing of this," stammered the bully.
"What are you driving at, Plum? Talk out straight."
"I will." The bully looked around, to make certain that nobody was within hearing distance. "You're a poor boy, Porter, aren't you?"
"I admit it."
"Just so. And, being poor, some pocket money comes in mighty handy at times, doesn't it?"
"I have some spending money."
"But not as much as you'd like; ain't that so?"
"Oh, I could spend more—if I had it," answered Dave, trying to find out what the other was driving at.
"Well, supposing I promised to give you some money to spend, Porter, how would that strike you?"
Dave was astonished, the suggestion was so entirely unexpected. But he tried not to show his feelings.
"Would you give me money, Gus?" he asked, calmly.
"Yes, I would—if you'd only promise to keep quiet."
"How much?"
"Well—I—er—I'd do the right thing. Did Phil Lawrence see me on the river?"
"No."
"Any of the other boys?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then you were alone." Gus Plum drew a sigh of relief. "Now, let us come to terms, by all means. I'll do the square thing, and you'll have all the pocket money you want."
"But how much are you willing to give me?" queried Dave, his curiosity aroused to its highest pitch.
"I'll give you"—the bully paused, to addimpressiveness to his words—"I'll give you fifty dollars."
"Fifty dollars!" ejaculated Dave. He was bewildered by the answer. He had expected Plum to name a dollar or two at the most.
"Ain't that enough?"
"Do you think it is enough?" asked the country boy. He scarcely knew what to say. He was trying to study the bully's face.
"Well—er—if you'll give me your solemn word not to whisper a word—not a word, remember—I'll make it a—a hundred dollars."
"You'll give me a hundred dollars? When?"
"Before the end of the week. I haven't the money now, but, if you want it, I can give you ten dollars on account—just to bind the bargain," and the bully drew two five-dollar bills from his vest pocket. "But, remember, mum's the word—no matter what comes."
He thrust the bills at Dave, who merely looked at them. Then the country boy drew himself up.
"I don't want a cent of your money, Gus Plum," he said, in a low, but firm, voice. "You can't bribe me, no matter what you offer."
The bully dropped back and his face fell. He put his money back into his pocket. Then he glared savagely at Dave.
"Then you won't come to terms!" he fairly hissed between his teeth.
"No."
"You had better. If you dare to tell on me—breathe a word of what you saw that night—I'll—I'll make it so hot for you that you'll wish you had never been born! I am not going to let a country jay like you ruin me! Not much! You think twice before you make a move! I can hurt you in a way you least expect, and if I have to leave this school, you'll have to go, too!" And shaking his fist at Dave, Gus Plum strode off, leaving Dave more mystified than ever before.
"I simply can't understand it, Phil. Gus Plum was frightened very much, or he would never have offered me a hundred dollars to keep quiet."
Dave and his chum were strolling along the edge of the campus, an hour after the conversation recorded in the last chapter. The boy from the poorhouse had told Phil all that had occurred.
"It is certainly the most mysterious thing I ever heard of, outside of this mystery about Billy Dill," answered Phil. "Plum has been up to something wrong, but just what, remains to be found out."
"And what about Shadow Hamilton?"
"I can't say anything about Shadow. I never thought he would do anything that wasn't right."
"Nor I. What would you advise?"
"Keep quiet and await developments. Something is bound to come to the surface, sooner or later."
"Hello, you fellows, where are you bound?" came in a cry, and looking up they saw a well-known form approaching.
"Ben!" cried Dave, rushing up to the newcomerand shaking hands warmly. "When did you come in? And how are all the folks at Crumville? Did you happen to see Professor Potts and the Wadsworths?"
"One question at a time, please," answered Ben Basswood, as he shook hands with Phil. "Yes, I saw them all, and everybody wants to be remembered to you. Jessie sends her very sweetest regards——"
"Oh, come now, no fooling," interrupted Dave, blushing furiously. "Tell us the plain truth."
"Well, she sent her best regard, anyway. And all the others did the same. The professor is getting along finely. You'd hardly know him now, he looks so hale and hearty. It did him a world of good to go to live with the Wadsworths."
"You must have had a pretty nice vacation," observed Phil.
"Yes, although it was rather short. But, say, have you fellows heard about Plum's father?" went on Ben Basswood, earnestly.
"We've heard that he lost some money."
"Yes, and he has tied himself up in some sort of underhanded get-rich-quick concern, and I understand some folks are going to sue him for all he is worth. That will be rather rough on Gus—if his father loses all his money."
"True enough," said Dave. "But tell us all the news," he continued, and then Ben related the particulars of affairs at Crumville, and of a legal fight between his father and Mr. Aaron Poole, in which Mr. Basswood had won.
"That will make Nat more sour on you than ever," observed Phil.
"Maybe; but I can't help it. If he leaves me alone I'll leave him alone."
The following day passed quietly at Oak Hall. Gus Plum and Nat Poole kept by themselves. Shadow Hamilton appeared to brighten a little, but Dave observed that the youth was by no means himself. He did not care to play baseball or "do a turn" at the gym., and kept for the most part by himself.
Saturday passed, and on Sunday a large number of the students marched off to three of the town churches. Dave, Roger, and Phil attended the same church and Ben went with them, and all listened to a strong sermon on Christian brotherhood, which was destined to do each of them good.
"It makes a fellow feel as if he's got to help somebody else," said Roger.
"Well, it is our duty to help others," answered Dave. "The fellow who isn't willing to do that is selfish."
"You've certainly helped Macklin, Dave," said Ben. "I never saw such a change in a fellow. I'll wager he is more than happy to be out of Gus Plum's influence."
"I'd help Plum, too, if he'd let me," said Dave, and then gave a long sigh.
Two days later there was a sensation at the school. Doctor Clay came into the main classroom in the middle of the forenoon, looking much worried.
"Young gentlemen, I wish to talk to you for a few minutes," he said. "As some of you may know, I am the proud possessor of a stamp collection which I value at not less than three thousand dollars. The stamps are arranged in three books, and I have spent eight years in collecting them. These books of stamps are missing, and I wish to know if anybody here knows anything about them. If they were taken away in a spirit of fun, let me say that such a joke is a poor one, and I trust the books will be speedily returned, and without damage to a single stamp."
All of the boys listened with interest, for many of them had inspected the collection, and they knew that stamp-gathering was one of the kind doctor's hobbies.
"Doctor, I am sorry to hear of this," said one boy, named Bert Dalgart, a youth who had a small collection of his own. "I looked at the collection about ten days ago, as you know. I haven't seen it since."
"Nor have I seen it," said Roger, who also collected stamps.
"Is there any boy here who knows anything at all about my collection?" demanded the doctor, sharply. "If so, let him stand up."
There was a pause, but nobody arose. The master of Oak Hall drew a long breath.
"If this is a joke, I want the collection returned by to-morrow morning," he went on. "If this is not done, and I learn who is guilty, I shall expel that student from this school."
He then passed on to the next classroom, and so on through the whole academy. But nothing was learned concerning the missing stamp collection, and the end of the inquiry left the worthy doctor much perplexed and worried.
"That is too bad," was Dave's comment, after school was dismissed. "That was a nice collection. I'd hate to have it mussed up, if it was mine."
"The fellow who played that joke went too far," said the senator's son. "He ought to put the collection back at once."
The matter was talked over by all the students for several days. In the meantime Doctor Clay went on a vigorous hunt for the stamp collection, but without success.
"Do you think it possible that somebody stole that collection?" questioned Dave of Phil one afternoon, as he and his chum strolled in the direction of Farmer Cadmore's place, to see if they could learn anything about the ram.
"Oh, it's possible; but who would be so mean?"
"Maybe some outsider got the stamps."
"I don't think so. An outside thief would have taken some silverware, or something like that. No, I think those stamps were taken by somebody in the school."
"Then maybe the chap is afraid to return them—for fear of being found out."
So the talk ran on until the edge of the Cadmore farm was gained. Looking into a field, they saw the ram grazing peacefully on the fresh, green grass.
"He's as right as a button!" cried Phil. "I guess he wasn't hurt at all, and after jumping from the window he came straight home," and in this surmise the youth was correct.
As the boys walked back to the school they separated, Phil going to the gymnasium to practice on the bars and Dave to stroll along the river. The boy from Crumville wanted to be by himself, to think over the past and try to reason out what the sailor had told him. Many a time had Dave tried to reason this out, but always failed, yet he could not bear to think of giving up.
"Some time or another I've got to find out who I am and where I came from," he murmured. "I am not going to remain a nobody all my life!"
He came to a halt in a particularly picturesque spot, and was about to sit down, when he heard anoise close at hand. Looking through the bushes, he saw Shadow Hamilton on his knees and with his clasped hands raised to heaven. The boy was praying, and remained on his knees for several minutes. When he arose, he turned around and discovered Dave, who had just started to leave the spot.
"Dave Porter!" came in a low cry, and Hamilton's face grew red.
"Hello, Shadow! Taking a walk along the river? If you are, I'll go along."
"I—I was walking," stammered the other boy. His eyes searched Dave's face. "You—were you watching me?" he asked, lamely.
"Not exactly."
"But you saw me—er——"
"I saw you, Shadow, I couldn't help it. It was nothing for you to be ashamed of, though."
"I—I—oh, I can't tell you!" and Hamilton's face took on a look of keen misery.
"Shadow, you are in some deep trouble, I know it," came bluntly from Dave. "Don't you want to tell me about it? I'll do what I can for you. We've been chums ever since I came here and I hate to see you so downcast."
"It wouldn't do any good—you couldn't help me."
"Are you sure of that? Sometimes an outsider looks at a thing in a different light than that personhimself. Of course, I don't want to pry into your secrets, if you don't want me to."
Shadow Hamilton bit his lip and hesitated.
"If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it to yourself?"
"If it is best, yes."
"I don't know if it is best or not, but I don't want you to say anything."
"Well, what is it?"
"You know all about the doctor losing that collection of stamps?"
"Certainly."
"And you know about the loss of some of the class stick-pins about three weeks ago?"
"Yes, I know Mr. Dale lost just a dozen of them."
"The stick-pins are worth two dollars each."
"Yes."
"And that stamp collection was worth over three thousand dollars."
"I know that, too."
"Well, I stole the stick-pins, and I stole the stamp collection, too!"
"You stole those things, you!" gasped Dave. He could scarcely utter the words. He shrank back a step or two, and his face was filled with horror.
"Yes, I did it," came from Shadow Hamilton.
"But—but—oh, Shadow, you must be fooling! Surely, you didn't really go to work and—and——" Try his best, Dave could not finish.
"I stole the things; or, rather, I think I had better say I took them, although it amounts to the same thing. But I don't think I am quite as bad as you suppose."
"But, if you took them, why didn't you return them? You have had plenty of time."
"I would return them, only I don't know where the things are."
"You don't know? What do you mean?"
"I'll have to tell you my whole story, Dave. Will you listen until I have finished?"
"Certainly."
"Well, to start on, I am a great dreamer and, what is more, I occasionally walk in my sleep."
"Yes, you told me that before."
"One morning I got up, and I found my clothes all covered with dirt and cobwebs and my shoes very muddy. I couldn't explain this, and I thought some of the fellows had been putting up a job on me. But I didn't want to play the calf, so I said nothing.
"Some days after that I found my clothing in the same condition, and I likewise found that my hands were blistered, as if from some hard work. I couldn't understand it, but suddenly it flashed on me that I must have been sleep-walking. I was ashamed of myself, so I told nobody."
"Well, but this robbery——" began Dave.
"I am coming to that. When Doctor Clay spoke about his stamp collection, I remembered that I had dreamed of that collection one night. It seemed to me that I must run away with the collection and put it in a safe place. Then I remembered that I had dreamed of the stick-pins at another time, and had dreamed of going to the boathouse to put them in my locker there. That made me curious, and I went down to the locker, and there I found—what do you think? One of the stick-pins stuck in the wood."
"A new one?"
"Exactly. That made me hunt around thoroughly, and after a while I discovered this, under my rowing sweater."
As Shadow finished, he drew from his pocket a doubled-up sheet of paper. Dave unfolded it, and saw it was a large sheet of rare American postage stamps.
"Did you find any more than this?"
The other youth shook his head.
"Did you hunt all around the boathouse?"
"Yes, I hunted high and low, in the building and out. I have spent all my spare time hunting; that is why I have had such poor lessons lately."
"Don't you remember going out to row during the night, Shadow?"
At this question, Shadow Hamilton started.
"What do you know about that?" he demanded.
"Not much—only I know you were out."
"Do you know where I went to?"
"I do not."
"Well, neither do I. I dreamed about rowing, but I can't, for the life of me, remember where I went. I must have gone a good way, for I blistered my hands with the oars."
"And yet you can't remember?"
"Oh, I know it sounds like a fairy tale, and I know nobody will believe it, yet it is true, Dave, I'll give you my word on it."
"I believe you, Shadow. Your being out is what has made you so tired lately. Now you have told me a secret, I am going to tell you one. Ike Rasmer saw you out on the river at night, passingRobbin's Point. And there is something stranger to tell."
"What is that?"
"Are you dead certain you were asleep on the river?"
"I must have been. I remember nothing more than my dream."
"Do you know that you were followed?"
"By Rasmer?"
"No, by Gus Plum."
"Plum!" gasped Shadow Hamilton, and his face turned pale. "Are—are you certain of this?"
"That is what Ike Rasmer told me," and then Dave related all that the old boatman had said.
"That makes the mystery deeper," muttered Shadow. "It puts me in mind of a story I once—but I can't tell stories now!" He gave a sigh. "Oh, Dave, I am so wretched over this! I don't know what to do."
"I know what I'd do."
"What?"
"Go and tell Doctor Clay everything."
"I—I can't do it. He thought so much of that stamp collection—he'll surely send me home—and make my father pay for the collection, too."
"I don't think he'll send you home. About pay, that's another question. In one sense, you didn't really steal the stamps. A fellow isn't responsiblefor what he does in his sleep. I'd certainly go to him. If you wish, I'll go with you."
The two talked the matter over for half an hour, and, on Dave's continual urging, Shadow Hamilton at last consented to go to Doctor Clay and make a clean breast of the matter.
They found the master of Oak Hall in his private office, writing a letter. He greeted them pleasantly and told them to sit down until he had finished. Then he turned around to them inquiringly.
It was no easy matter for Shadow Hamilton to break the ice, and Dave had to help him do it. But, once the plunge was taken, the youth given to sleep-walking told him his story in all of its details, and turned over to the doctor the stick-pin and the sheet of stamps he had found.
During the recital, Doctor Clay's eyes scarcely once left the face of the boy who was making the confession. As he proceeded, Shadow Hamilton grew paler and paler, and his voice grew husky until he could scarcely speak.
"I know I am to blame, sir," he said, at last. "But I—I—oh, Doctor Clay, please forgive me!" he burst out.
"My boy, there is nothing to forgive," was the kindly answer, that took even Dave by surprise. "It would seem that you have been as much of a victim as I have been. I cannot blame you fordoing these things in your sleep. I take it for granted that you have told me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I have, sir, I have!"
"Then there is nothing to do but to investigate this as far as we can. Of course, I realize that it would cut you to have everybody in the school know of your sleep-walking habit."
"Yes, sir. But I shouldn't care, if only you could get back the stamps and the pins."
"Is Rasmer sure he saw Plum following Hamilton on the river?" asked the doctor, turning to Dave.
"That is what he told Morr, Lawrence, and myself the day we stopped at his boathouse for a new oarlock."
"Then I must see him and have a talk with him," said the master of Oak Hall; and after a few words more the boys were dismissed.
On the following morning, Doctor Clay drove down to Ike Rasmer's place. The boatman was pleasant enough, but he remembered that Gus Plum was one of his customers, and when questioned closely, said he could not testify absolutely to the fact that it had been Plum who had followed Hamilton on the river.
"You see, my eyesight ain't of the best, doctor," said Rasmer, lamely. "I saw Hamilton full in the face, but the other feller had his face turned awayfrom me. I ain't gittin' nobody into trouble, 'less I am sure of what I am doin'—that's nateral, ain't it?"
"Very," answered Doctor Clay, coldly, and returned to the academy in deep thought. He realized that Ike Rasmer was now on his guard, and would tell no more than was absolutely required of him.
The next movement of the worthy doctor was to call Gus Plum into his office. The bully was anxious, but had evidently nerved himself for the ordeal.
"No, sir, I have not been out on the river at night this season," said he, blandly, in reply to the doctor's question. "I have not dared to go out so late, for I take cold too easily." And he coughed slightly.
This was all Doctor Clay could get from Plum, and he dismissed the bully without mentioning Hamilton or the missing pins and stamps. Then the doctor called in Andrew Dale, and the two consulted together for the best part of an hour; but what the outcome of that discussion was the boys were not told. A day later, however, Shadow Hamilton was told to change his sleeping quarters to a small room next to that occupied by Andrew Dale.
"Hello! Shadow is going to get high-toned and have a sleeping-room all to himself!" cried Roger,and would have asked some questions, only Dave cut him short.
"There is a good reason, Roger," whispered the country boy. "But don't ask me to explain now. If you question Shadow, you'll only hurt his feelings." This "tip" spread, and none of the boys after that said a word before Hamilton about the change. But later all came to Dave and asked what it meant.
"I wish I could tell you, but I can't, fellows. Some day, perhaps, you'll know; until then, you'll have to forget it." And that is all Dave would say.
The boys were too busy to give the mystery much attention. A series of athletic contests had been arranged, and all of the students who were to take part had gone into training in the gymnasium, and on the cinder-track which was laid out in the field beyond the last-named building. The contests were to come off on the following Saturday, and, to make matters more interesting, Doctor Clay had put up several prizes of books and silver medals, to be presented to the winners.
Dave had entered for a hurdle race, and Roger, Phil, and Ben were in various other contests. Dave felt that he would stand a good chance at the hurdles, for on Caspar Potts' farm he had frequently practiced at leaping over the rail fences while on the run. He did not know surely who would be pittedagainst him until Ben Basswood brought him the news.
"Gus Plum, Fanning, and Saultz are in the hurdle race," said Ben. "Plum says he feels certain he will win."
"Plum," repeated the country boy. "I knew the others were in it, but I didn't think Gus would take part."
"He went in right after he heard that you had entered. He says he is going to beat you out of your boots. He wanted to bet with me, but I told him I didn't bet."
"Is Nat Poole in the race?"
"No, he is in the quarter-mile dash, against me and six others. He thinks he will win, too."
"I don't think he will, Ben. You can outrun him."
"Anyway, I am going to try," answered Ben Basswood.
It was a bright, clear day in early summer when the athletic contests of Oak Hall came off. All the academy boys assembled for the affair, and with them were a number of folks from the town, and also some students from the Rockville Military Academy, a rival institution of learning, as my old readers already know.
The contests began with pole vaulting and putting the shot, and, much to the surprise of all, Chip Macklin won out over half a dozen boys slightly larger than himself. Luke Watson also won one of the contests, and the banjo player and Macklin were roundly applauded by their friends.
"Dave Porter coached Macklin," said one small boy to another. "I saw him doing it. I can tell you, Chip is picking up."
"Yes," was the answer. "And he doesn't seem to be afraid of that bully of a Plum any more, either."
After the shot-putting and vaulting came the quarter-mile dash, for which Ben had entered.
"Go in and win, Ben!" cried Dave, to his oldchum. "I know you can do it if you'll only try."
"Nat Poole will win that race!" came roughly from Gus Plum, who stood near.
"Hi, catch the ball, Gus!" sang out Nat Poole, from across the field, and threw a ball in Ben's direction. Plum leaped for the sphere, bumped up against Ben, and both went down, with the bully on top.
"Plum, you did that on purpose!" cried Roger, who was close by. "Shame on you!"
"Shut up! I didn't do it on purpose!" howled the bully, arising. "Say that again and I'll knock you down!"
"You certainly did do it on purpose," said Phil, stepping up quickly. "You ought to be reported for it."
"Aw, dry up!" muttered Plum, and walked away.
When Ben arose he could scarcely get his breath. He was not hurt, but the wind had been knocked completely out of him.
"I—I don't know if I can ru-run or not!" he gasped. "He came—came down on me like a ton of bricks!"
"Wait, I'll speak to Mr. Dale about this," said Dave, and ran off. As a result of the interview the contest was delayed ten minutes—another taking its place—much to the disgust of Gus Plum andNat Poole, both of whom had reckoned on putting Ben out of the contest.
At the start of the quarter-mile dash Nat Poole and two others forged ahead, but Ben was on his mettle, and, setting his teeth, soon began to close up the gap.
"Go it, Ben!" yelled Dave. "You can win, I know it!"
"Sail right past 'em!" came from the senator's son. "Hump yourself, old man!"
"Make 'em take the dust!" added Phil.
Ben hardly heard the words, for he was now running with all his strength. He passed first one boy and then another, and then came abreast of Nat Poole. So they moved on to within a dozen paces of the finish. Then Ben made a leap ahead, and so did one of the other contestants, and Ben came in the winner, with the other boy second, and Nat Poole third. A roar went right across the field.
"Ben Basswood wins!"
"Jake Tatmon is second!"
"Nat Poole came in only third, and he boasted he was going to win, sure!"
As soon as the race was over, Nat Poole sneaked out of sight, behind some friends. He was bitterly disappointed, and could scarcely keep from running away altogether.
"You didn't fix him at all," he whispered to GusPlum, when he got the chance. "He was in prime condition."
"I did the best I could—you saw him go down, with me on top of him," retorted the bully. "Now, don't you forget what you promised," he added, sharply.
"Oh, I'll keep my word, don't fear," growled Nat Poole. "I hate Dave Porter too much to let him win!"
There were some standing and running jumps, in which Roger and Phil won second and third places, and then came the hurdle race, in which Dave was to participate. In the meantime Nat Poole had shed his track outfit and donned his regular clothes and a rather heavy pair of walking shoes.
"Please let me pass," said he to the crowd in which Dave was standing, and, without warning, brought one of his heavy shoes down smartly on Dave's light, canvas foot-covering.
"Ouch!" cried the country boy, and gave Poole a quick shove. "What do you mean by stepping on my foot in that fashion, Nat Poole?"
"Oh, excuse me," said the Crumville aristocrat, coolly. "Didn't know it was your foot, Porter, or I shouldn't have stepped on it for anything."
"You've just about lamed me!" gasped Dave. The pain was still intense.
"Dave, I believe this is a put-up job!" said Ben,quickly. "Plum agreed to lame me so that Poole could win, and now Poole is trying the same trick on you for Plum's benefit."
"No such thing!" roared Nat Poole, but his face grew fiery red. "It was a pure accident. I don't have to lame Porter. Plum will win, anyhow."
"It certainly looks suspicious," said Shadow Hamilton. "He hadn't any business to force his way through our crowd."
"Oh, don't you put in your oar, you old sleep-walker!" growled Nat Poole, and then hurried off and out of sight behind the gymnasium. At the parting shot Shadow became pale, but nobody seemed to notice the remark.
"Can you go ahead?" asked Phil, of Dave.
"I think so," was the answer. "But that was a mean thing to do. He came near crushing my little toe."
Fortunately, several of the hurdles had not been properly placed, and it took some little time to arrange them properly. During that interval Roger dressed the injured foot for his chum, which made it feel much better.
"Are you all ready?" was the question put to the contestants, as they lined up. Then came a pause, followed by the crack of a revolver, and they were off.
The encounter with Nat Poole had nerved Dave as he had seldom been nerved before. Ben hadwon, and he made up his mind to do the same, regardless of the fact that Gus Plum and one of the other boys in the race were bigger than himself. He took the first and second hurdles with ease, and then found himself in a bunch, with Plum on one side and a lad named Cashod on the other.
"Whoop her up, Cashod!" he yelled out. "Come on, and show the others what we can do!"
"Right you are, Porter!" was the answering cry.
"Not much!" puffed out Gus Plum. "I'm the winner here!"
"Rats!" answered Dave. "You'll come in fifth, Plum. You're winded already!" And then, with a mighty effort, he leaped to the front, with Cashod on his heels. "Poole didn't do your dirty work well enough," he flung back over his shoulder as he took his fourth hurdle.
The taunts angered Gus Plum, and this made him lose ground, until, almost before he knew it, the third pupil in the race dashed past him. Then he found himself neck-and-neck with the fifth contestant.
"Here they come!"
"Dave Porter is ahead, with Cashod second!"
"Collins has taken third place!"
"Plum and Higgins are tied for fourth place!"
"Not much! Higgins is ahead!"
"And there goes Sanderson ahead of Plum, too!Phew! Wonder if that is what Plum calls winning? He had better study his dictionary!"