CHAPTER XXVI—THINGS ARE MISSING“Hey, Savage!” said Gorman, as they were rushing through dressing in order to be present at roll-call; “where’s my watch?”“How do I know?” returned Joe, as he buttoned his shirt. “Where you put it, I suppose.”“No it isn’t. It’s gone.”“Well, I think you’ll find it if you look for it.”“But I can’t find it!” snapped Gorman. “I left it right here on the table last night, where I leave it every night. It’s gone now.”“Well, you needn’t look to me for it!” flung back Savage, whose temper had been ruffled by the tone assumed by his roommate. “I hope you don’t think I took your old watch? I have one of my own, and—Hey! where’s my knife?”Savage was very neat and trim in his habits, and he always cleaned his finger-nails mornings when he reached a certain point in his dressing. It was shortly after washing his face and hands, as that was the best time to do so. Just now he had thrust his hand into his pocket for his knife, only to discover that it was gone.Gorman paid no attention to Joe, but continued to look around for his watch, a scowl on his face.Savage felt hastily through his pockets, then began to look around himself.“Seen my knife?” he demanded.“No!” snapped Abe; “but I’d like to see my watch. It’s mighty strange where that watch has disappeared to.”Joe stood still, his hands in his pockets, thinking.“I had that knife last night,” he muttered. “I sharpened a pencil with it. I was sitting right there by the table. I put it back into my pocket. Funny where it’s gone.”Then the two boys found themselves staring suspiciously at each other.“My watch is valuable,” said Gorman.“My knife was a present from my mother,” said Savage. “I thought everything of it.”“My watch was a present from my father. It was worth a neat little bit.”“I can’t help that. I know it is a good watch. You’ll find it——”“I don’t know about finding it. I had it last evening. I wound it up just the same as usual before going to bed. I remember very distinctly winding it.”“Well, your watch didn’t walk out of this room, did it?”“How about your knife?”There was little satisfaction in these questions, and they suddenly realized that they would have to hustle if they were to be on hand at roll-call, whereupon they hastily completed preparations and scudded out of the room, both in a very bad temper.After roll-call and morning service there were a few moments before breakfast. Savage came upon a group gathered about Gorman, who was telling of the mysterious disappearance of his watch. Just as he came up, Jim Wilson joined the group.“Lost your watch right out of your room?” he said. “Well, I lost mine last night, so I’m in the same scrape.”“Perhaps your ghost took it, Jim,” laughed one of the group of lads.“Ghost?” exclaimed Gorman. “Why, confound it! Savage said something about a ghost. I woke up in the night and found him standing in the middle of the floor, holding a lighted match over his head. He was white as a sheet.”“How about that, Savage?” demanded several of the boys, who had noted the approach of Joe.Savage shrugged his shoulders.“I wasn’t going to say anything about it,” he declared; “but I did see something in our room last night.”Jim Wilson grew excited.“What was it like?” he asked wildly, much to the amusement of some of the boys. “Was it tall and white, with long arms, and did it just seem to float along without making a sound?”“I couldn’t see it very plainly. It stood at the foot of the bed. But it was white.”“Did it groan just awful?”“No; but it uttered a doleful sigh.”“My ghost groaned. Gosh! It made my hair stand right up. Then when the thing lifted its arm I just gave a yell. It vanished quick enough. I got out of the room. Don’t know how I got out there. Don’t know how I opened the door. Perhaps it was open. I can’t say. Laugh, you fellows! I don’t care! I tell you there was something in my room!”“I suppose you fellows know,” said a tall, solemn lad, “that a chap committed suicide here at the academy once?”“No?” cried several.“Sure thing,” nodded the tall fellow. “Cut his throat. He was daffy.”“Dear me!” murmured Ted Smart, who had just strolled along in company with Dick Merriwell. “What a delightful way to kick the bucket! I admire his taste!”“But was there a fellow who really committed suicide here?”“Yes,” nodded Dick Merriwell. “My brother told me about it. His name was Bolt. The room he killed himself in was closed for a long time. Some of the fellows used to sneak into it nights when they wanted a little racket. There was a story about the room being haunted; but, of course, that was bosh.”“Was it?” said the tall fellow, in a queer way.“Perhaps it is the ghost of Cadet Bolt that is romping around here once more,” suggested a mocking lad.“What do you think, Smart?” questioned a boy with squinting eyes.“I have found it a bad practise to think,” answered Ted evasively. “It is wearing on the gray matter, don’t you know.”But they observed that Smart was not as lively and jocular as usual.“This spook seems to be a collector of relics,” said Dick. “He has collected something wherever he has appeared. First he got away with Smart’s comb and brush, then Gorman’s watch; Savage lost a knife, and Wilson is also out a watch.”“Well, what do you think of it?” was the point-blank question put to Dick.“It’s very remarkable,” confessed Merriwell.“Oh, there’s nothing in the ghost-story, of course!” said a bullet-headed boy.“Perhaps there is,” said Dick.“What?” cried several, in surprise.“You don’t believe it?” said one. “You don’t take stock in spooks?”“I might not take stock in this one,” admitted Dick, “if it were not that he has taken stock wherever he had visited. In other words, the fact that he has carried off some valuable articles leads me to believe in him.”“But how——”“Why——”“You don’t——”“I can’t see——”“You mean——”“It seems likely that somebody, or something, has been prowling round this building,” said Dick, cutting them all short. “There goes the breakfast-bell.”There was a general movement to form into ranks to march to the dining-hall by classes, as was the custom, and the subject was dropped for the time being.
CHAPTER XXVI—THINGS ARE MISSING“Hey, Savage!” said Gorman, as they were rushing through dressing in order to be present at roll-call; “where’s my watch?”“How do I know?” returned Joe, as he buttoned his shirt. “Where you put it, I suppose.”“No it isn’t. It’s gone.”“Well, I think you’ll find it if you look for it.”“But I can’t find it!” snapped Gorman. “I left it right here on the table last night, where I leave it every night. It’s gone now.”“Well, you needn’t look to me for it!” flung back Savage, whose temper had been ruffled by the tone assumed by his roommate. “I hope you don’t think I took your old watch? I have one of my own, and—Hey! where’s my knife?”Savage was very neat and trim in his habits, and he always cleaned his finger-nails mornings when he reached a certain point in his dressing. It was shortly after washing his face and hands, as that was the best time to do so. Just now he had thrust his hand into his pocket for his knife, only to discover that it was gone.Gorman paid no attention to Joe, but continued to look around for his watch, a scowl on his face.Savage felt hastily through his pockets, then began to look around himself.“Seen my knife?” he demanded.“No!” snapped Abe; “but I’d like to see my watch. It’s mighty strange where that watch has disappeared to.”Joe stood still, his hands in his pockets, thinking.“I had that knife last night,” he muttered. “I sharpened a pencil with it. I was sitting right there by the table. I put it back into my pocket. Funny where it’s gone.”Then the two boys found themselves staring suspiciously at each other.“My watch is valuable,” said Gorman.“My knife was a present from my mother,” said Savage. “I thought everything of it.”“My watch was a present from my father. It was worth a neat little bit.”“I can’t help that. I know it is a good watch. You’ll find it——”“I don’t know about finding it. I had it last evening. I wound it up just the same as usual before going to bed. I remember very distinctly winding it.”“Well, your watch didn’t walk out of this room, did it?”“How about your knife?”There was little satisfaction in these questions, and they suddenly realized that they would have to hustle if they were to be on hand at roll-call, whereupon they hastily completed preparations and scudded out of the room, both in a very bad temper.After roll-call and morning service there were a few moments before breakfast. Savage came upon a group gathered about Gorman, who was telling of the mysterious disappearance of his watch. Just as he came up, Jim Wilson joined the group.“Lost your watch right out of your room?” he said. “Well, I lost mine last night, so I’m in the same scrape.”“Perhaps your ghost took it, Jim,” laughed one of the group of lads.“Ghost?” exclaimed Gorman. “Why, confound it! Savage said something about a ghost. I woke up in the night and found him standing in the middle of the floor, holding a lighted match over his head. He was white as a sheet.”“How about that, Savage?” demanded several of the boys, who had noted the approach of Joe.Savage shrugged his shoulders.“I wasn’t going to say anything about it,” he declared; “but I did see something in our room last night.”Jim Wilson grew excited.“What was it like?” he asked wildly, much to the amusement of some of the boys. “Was it tall and white, with long arms, and did it just seem to float along without making a sound?”“I couldn’t see it very plainly. It stood at the foot of the bed. But it was white.”“Did it groan just awful?”“No; but it uttered a doleful sigh.”“My ghost groaned. Gosh! It made my hair stand right up. Then when the thing lifted its arm I just gave a yell. It vanished quick enough. I got out of the room. Don’t know how I got out there. Don’t know how I opened the door. Perhaps it was open. I can’t say. Laugh, you fellows! I don’t care! I tell you there was something in my room!”“I suppose you fellows know,” said a tall, solemn lad, “that a chap committed suicide here at the academy once?”“No?” cried several.“Sure thing,” nodded the tall fellow. “Cut his throat. He was daffy.”“Dear me!” murmured Ted Smart, who had just strolled along in company with Dick Merriwell. “What a delightful way to kick the bucket! I admire his taste!”“But was there a fellow who really committed suicide here?”“Yes,” nodded Dick Merriwell. “My brother told me about it. His name was Bolt. The room he killed himself in was closed for a long time. Some of the fellows used to sneak into it nights when they wanted a little racket. There was a story about the room being haunted; but, of course, that was bosh.”“Was it?” said the tall fellow, in a queer way.“Perhaps it is the ghost of Cadet Bolt that is romping around here once more,” suggested a mocking lad.“What do you think, Smart?” questioned a boy with squinting eyes.“I have found it a bad practise to think,” answered Ted evasively. “It is wearing on the gray matter, don’t you know.”But they observed that Smart was not as lively and jocular as usual.“This spook seems to be a collector of relics,” said Dick. “He has collected something wherever he has appeared. First he got away with Smart’s comb and brush, then Gorman’s watch; Savage lost a knife, and Wilson is also out a watch.”“Well, what do you think of it?” was the point-blank question put to Dick.“It’s very remarkable,” confessed Merriwell.“Oh, there’s nothing in the ghost-story, of course!” said a bullet-headed boy.“Perhaps there is,” said Dick.“What?” cried several, in surprise.“You don’t believe it?” said one. “You don’t take stock in spooks?”“I might not take stock in this one,” admitted Dick, “if it were not that he has taken stock wherever he had visited. In other words, the fact that he has carried off some valuable articles leads me to believe in him.”“But how——”“Why——”“You don’t——”“I can’t see——”“You mean——”“It seems likely that somebody, or something, has been prowling round this building,” said Dick, cutting them all short. “There goes the breakfast-bell.”There was a general movement to form into ranks to march to the dining-hall by classes, as was the custom, and the subject was dropped for the time being.
“Hey, Savage!” said Gorman, as they were rushing through dressing in order to be present at roll-call; “where’s my watch?”
“How do I know?” returned Joe, as he buttoned his shirt. “Where you put it, I suppose.”
“No it isn’t. It’s gone.”
“Well, I think you’ll find it if you look for it.”
“But I can’t find it!” snapped Gorman. “I left it right here on the table last night, where I leave it every night. It’s gone now.”
“Well, you needn’t look to me for it!” flung back Savage, whose temper had been ruffled by the tone assumed by his roommate. “I hope you don’t think I took your old watch? I have one of my own, and—Hey! where’s my knife?”
Savage was very neat and trim in his habits, and he always cleaned his finger-nails mornings when he reached a certain point in his dressing. It was shortly after washing his face and hands, as that was the best time to do so. Just now he had thrust his hand into his pocket for his knife, only to discover that it was gone.
Gorman paid no attention to Joe, but continued to look around for his watch, a scowl on his face.
Savage felt hastily through his pockets, then began to look around himself.
“Seen my knife?” he demanded.
“No!” snapped Abe; “but I’d like to see my watch. It’s mighty strange where that watch has disappeared to.”
Joe stood still, his hands in his pockets, thinking.
“I had that knife last night,” he muttered. “I sharpened a pencil with it. I was sitting right there by the table. I put it back into my pocket. Funny where it’s gone.”
Then the two boys found themselves staring suspiciously at each other.
“My watch is valuable,” said Gorman.
“My knife was a present from my mother,” said Savage. “I thought everything of it.”
“My watch was a present from my father. It was worth a neat little bit.”
“I can’t help that. I know it is a good watch. You’ll find it——”
“I don’t know about finding it. I had it last evening. I wound it up just the same as usual before going to bed. I remember very distinctly winding it.”
“Well, your watch didn’t walk out of this room, did it?”
“How about your knife?”
There was little satisfaction in these questions, and they suddenly realized that they would have to hustle if they were to be on hand at roll-call, whereupon they hastily completed preparations and scudded out of the room, both in a very bad temper.
After roll-call and morning service there were a few moments before breakfast. Savage came upon a group gathered about Gorman, who was telling of the mysterious disappearance of his watch. Just as he came up, Jim Wilson joined the group.
“Lost your watch right out of your room?” he said. “Well, I lost mine last night, so I’m in the same scrape.”
“Perhaps your ghost took it, Jim,” laughed one of the group of lads.
“Ghost?” exclaimed Gorman. “Why, confound it! Savage said something about a ghost. I woke up in the night and found him standing in the middle of the floor, holding a lighted match over his head. He was white as a sheet.”
“How about that, Savage?” demanded several of the boys, who had noted the approach of Joe.
Savage shrugged his shoulders.
“I wasn’t going to say anything about it,” he declared; “but I did see something in our room last night.”
Jim Wilson grew excited.
“What was it like?” he asked wildly, much to the amusement of some of the boys. “Was it tall and white, with long arms, and did it just seem to float along without making a sound?”
“I couldn’t see it very plainly. It stood at the foot of the bed. But it was white.”
“Did it groan just awful?”
“No; but it uttered a doleful sigh.”
“My ghost groaned. Gosh! It made my hair stand right up. Then when the thing lifted its arm I just gave a yell. It vanished quick enough. I got out of the room. Don’t know how I got out there. Don’t know how I opened the door. Perhaps it was open. I can’t say. Laugh, you fellows! I don’t care! I tell you there was something in my room!”
“I suppose you fellows know,” said a tall, solemn lad, “that a chap committed suicide here at the academy once?”
“No?” cried several.
“Sure thing,” nodded the tall fellow. “Cut his throat. He was daffy.”
“Dear me!” murmured Ted Smart, who had just strolled along in company with Dick Merriwell. “What a delightful way to kick the bucket! I admire his taste!”
“But was there a fellow who really committed suicide here?”
“Yes,” nodded Dick Merriwell. “My brother told me about it. His name was Bolt. The room he killed himself in was closed for a long time. Some of the fellows used to sneak into it nights when they wanted a little racket. There was a story about the room being haunted; but, of course, that was bosh.”
“Was it?” said the tall fellow, in a queer way.
“Perhaps it is the ghost of Cadet Bolt that is romping around here once more,” suggested a mocking lad.
“What do you think, Smart?” questioned a boy with squinting eyes.
“I have found it a bad practise to think,” answered Ted evasively. “It is wearing on the gray matter, don’t you know.”
But they observed that Smart was not as lively and jocular as usual.
“This spook seems to be a collector of relics,” said Dick. “He has collected something wherever he has appeared. First he got away with Smart’s comb and brush, then Gorman’s watch; Savage lost a knife, and Wilson is also out a watch.”
“Well, what do you think of it?” was the point-blank question put to Dick.
“It’s very remarkable,” confessed Merriwell.
“Oh, there’s nothing in the ghost-story, of course!” said a bullet-headed boy.
“Perhaps there is,” said Dick.
“What?” cried several, in surprise.
“You don’t believe it?” said one. “You don’t take stock in spooks?”
“I might not take stock in this one,” admitted Dick, “if it were not that he has taken stock wherever he had visited. In other words, the fact that he has carried off some valuable articles leads me to believe in him.”
“But how——”
“Why——”
“You don’t——”
“I can’t see——”
“You mean——”
“It seems likely that somebody, or something, has been prowling round this building,” said Dick, cutting them all short. “There goes the breakfast-bell.”
There was a general movement to form into ranks to march to the dining-hall by classes, as was the custom, and the subject was dropped for the time being.