The four chums were certainly regarded as the heroes of the school that day, for they had been instrumental in winning a victory that went down in the history of the institution as a most brilliant one.
“I didn’t know you had it in you, Stumpy,” said Ned, as the nine reached the high school grounds on the return trip.
“Me either,” replied Fenn. “It sort of ‘growed,’ like Topsy in Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
“To think of beating the Preps,” murmured Bart. “It’s the finest thing that ever happened.”
“How’s your wrist, Lem?” asked Frank.
“Hurts like the mischief. Sandy came down on it with all his force.”
“Say, I wonder if he meant that?” asked Fenn.
“Meant it? What do you mean?” asked Bart.
“Well it looked queer,” went on Fenn.“There we were in a tie game and we needed every advantage we could get to hold it. Then Sandy gets up to one of his tricks, and he might have known something would happen. It always does when he tries his funny work.”
“You don’t mean to say you think he deliberately hurt me, do you?” asked Lem, winding his handkerchief around the swollen wrist.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to accuse any one unjustly,” Stumpy continued. “But I heard he was going around saying things about being done out of his place as substitute pitcher, in practice, by me. Maybe he thought he’d just hurt Lem a little so’s he could have a chance to finish out the game.”
“I’d hate to believe it of him,” remarked the captain, “but he certainly did act rather strange. He went off angry, too. Well, it can’t be helped. Guess we’d better not say anything about it unless he tries to do something else. Come on to the drug store, Lem, and we’ll get some arnica for that wrist.”
Most of the boys dispersed at the school campus where the stage had left them, but the four chums, with Lem in their midst, walked up the street together.
“I wouldn’t be afraid to tackle ’em again,”observed Ned. “We’ve got their measure now.”
“Maybe they’ll ask for a return game,” said Bart. “Hello,” he added, “here comes my sister and Jennie Smith. Look out, Stumpy, or Jennie will be doing the Juliet act to you.”
“Guess not,” spoke Fenn, and he started to walk away, but Ned held him.
“Don’t desert in the face of the enemy,” he said, and Fenn had to stay.
“Oh, is some one hurt?” cried Alice, as she saw the cloth around Lem’s wrist. “How nice! I mean how fortunate I happened to meet you! Now I will have a chance to treat you!”
“Going to treat us to ice cream sodas?” asked her brother unfeelingly.
“Don’t be foolish, Bart! What is it Lem; is your wrist broken?”
“Only sprained, I think.”
“Let me look at it,” demanded Alice, and, regardless of the crowd that gathered, when the five boys and two girls formed a group on the sidewalk, Alice proceeded to undo the handkerchief and other cloth Lem had wound about his wrist.
“Wait a minute,” said Alice. “I must look at my book on first-aid-to-the-injured to make sure what it is,” and she took a little volume from abag she carried on her arm. Rapidly turning the pages she read:
“‘A sprain is the result of violent twisting, stretching or partial tearing of the ligaments about a joint, and there is often a fracture at the ends of the bones.’ Are you sure there isn’t a fracture, Lem? I’d love to treat a fracture as I never had a chance at one yet.”
“I hope not,” murmured the disabled pitcher. “It’s bad enough as it is.”
He was rather uneasy under the pressure Alice brought to bear on his wrist as she turned it this way and that, in an endeavor to see if it was broken.
“Do I hurt you?” she asked.
“Well—er—that is—no!” and Lem shut his teeth tightly together.
“Come right over to the drug store,” spoke Alice, as she led Lem by the injured wrist. He tried not to show the pain she unconsciously caused him. “I will get some hot water and hold your hand in it for an hour and a half.”
“Half an hour’s enough,” Lem said. “I haven’t got time for any more.”
“I must go by the book,” Alice declared firmly. “A good nurse always does that.”
Alice walked into the drug store, leading Lemas though she had done that sort of thing all her life. The four chums followed.
“Some hot water please, in a deep basin,” requested Alice of the clerk, and, though the man behind the counter looked in wonder at the strange cavalcade, he brought out the basin full of the steaming liquid.
“Put your wrist in,” commanded Alice as she rolled up Lem’s sleeve.
He thrust his arm in, half way to the elbow.
“Ouch!” he yelled. “It’s hot!”
“Of course it is,” replied the girl coolly, “it has to be. Now while we are waiting the hour and a half let’s talk about the game. It will help you to forget the pain. Maybe Bart has money for some ice cream soda.”
“I’ll buy ’em,” said Lem, trying to get his uninjured hand into his pocket.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” decided Alice. “You’re a patient. Whoever heard of a patient standing treat?” and she motioned to her brother.
Bart went over to the soda fountain and ordered “something for all hands” as he expressed it. Meanwhile Alice remained at Lem’s side, holding his wrist down well under the hot water. Lem’s face had lost some of its pained look. The heat was reducing the swelling and, consequently, the pressure.
“Will you kindly get me some cotton and bandages ready?” asked Alice of the clerk, and he produced them at once.
“When you going to graduate as a trained nurse?” asked Bart, as he came back, a glass of soda in each hand.
“Little boys shouldn’t ask the nurse questions,” spoke Alice, with a laugh.
“I say, how’s Lem going to eat his?” asked Frank. “He’s only got one hand, and it’s hard work dishing up the cream with a long handled spoon if you don’t hold the glass.”
“You boys will have to hold mine and Lem’s,”said Alice. “We can eat with one hand then,” and so it was done. Bart held Lem’s glass and Fenn took charge of Alice’s. When they finished the boys who had acted as soda-bearers regaled themselves on the beverage.
“Say, Alice, how long before that’ll be done? It’s been boiling half an hour now,” remarked Bart.
“More hot water, please,” the girl requested of the clerk. “A little longer,” she added to her brother. “Then I’m going to bandage it and we can go.”
To give her credit Alice did bandage the sprained wrist quite well. She opened her first-aid book on the counter in front of her and followed a diagram showing how to fold the cloth. The druggist complimented her on her skill.
“This is my first big case,” said Alice with a smile. She was very much in earnest over it, however lightly the boys treated her ambition. “I hope I have some more soon.”
“Well, I hope it isn’t me,” said Lem.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” said Alice, looking a little offended.
“Oh, I didn’t mean that!” Lem hastened to add. “It feels ever so much better. I meant I hope I won’t get hurt again. The season isyoung yet and we’ve lots of games ahead of us.”
“Guess we’ll have to take Alice along to look after the wounded,” said Frank. “She’ll be the mascot.”
“Somebody was mascot to-day all right,” came from Bart. “We certainly were in luck. Stumpy, hereafter you’re the regular substitute pitcher. Sandy Merton can consider himself released.”
It was dusk when the little group left the drug store to go to their several homes.
“You must come and report to me to-morrow,” said Alice as she bade Lem good-bye. “Be careful to keep the bandage on.”
“I will,” he promised.
His house was in the opposite direction to that which the four chums took. The chums walked on slowly together, Alice and Jennie hurrying away to do an errand for Mrs. Keene. As the boys turned a corner they almost collided with a man who was walking quickly in the opposite direction.
“I beg pardon!” he muttered as he passed through the group of lads. They were too surprised to respond and when Bart did think to say, “certainly,” the man was several feet away hurrying up the street. The boys gazed after him.
“Don’t you know who that is?” asked Ned suddenly.
“No; friend of yours?” inquired Fenn.
“I’m sure it’s the man we met in the woods Saturday.”
“Who, the crazy man?”
“No, the one at the hut—the King of Paprica—though he may be crazy for all I know. I recognized him as he hurried past me.”
“Are you sure?” asked Frank.
“Positive.”
“He didn’t have his crown on,” spoke Bart.
“And his clothes were not the same,” put in Fenn.
“That doesn’t make any difference,” insisted Ned. “I am sure it was the same man. I’ll bet there’s some mystery here, and it’s up to us to solve it,” he added.
“I don’t see why,” said Frank.
“Why haven’t we as good a right as any one?”
“I’m certain this man, if he is the one we saw at the hut, is the keeper of that poor lunatic we first met in the woods. Now what’s the use of bothering them. They have troubles enough,” replied Frank.
“Well, I want to get a look inside that hut,” went on Ned, “and I’m going to, some day.”
“Your curiosity may get you into trouble,” spoke Frank, a little seriously.
“It won’t be the first time,” and Ned laughed.
“Well, whoever he is, he was in a great hurry,” said Fenn. “Maybe the lunatic is sick and he’s going to get some medicine for him.”
By this time the man was out of sight, and, after a little further talk the boys went on.
Some one must have told Sandy Merton what Bart said about his being released from the team, for the next day he approached the nine’s captain on the school campus.
“I hear you said I couldn’t play on the team any more,” Sandy said to Bart.
“That’s what I did. Who told you?”
“That’s none of your affair. But I tell you I am going to play.”
“You refused to obey an order from the captain,” said Bart. “Not that I’m better than any of the other players, but they elected me captain and I’m going to run the nine or resign. You can’t play as long as I’m captain.”
“We’ll see how long you’ll be captain then,” muttered Sandy, as he walked away.
“Think he means anything?” asked Fenn of Bart.
“I don’t care whether he does or not. I’msorry to have to act that way, but if the team’s going to amount to anything it’s got to obey orders. If you fellows don’t want me for captain, say the word and I’ll resign.”
“Resign nothing!” exclaimed Ned. “I’d like to see you do it. Eh, fellows?”
“That’s right!” came from the crowd that had heard what Sandy said.
“Let’s go for a row on the river after school,” suggested Bart to his chums during the noon recess, and they agreed. The boys jointly owned a well-equipped boat in which they frequently made trips down to the lake. It was a four-oared barge, roomy and comfortable, though not speedy.
“Shall we bring our fishing tackle along?” asked Ned.
“You can if you like,” replied Bart. “I’m not going to. I’m just going to take it easy.”
Quite a crowd of boys went to the river after school. Some took their swimming suits, while others went to fish or row, as a number of them had boats. The four chums soon got their craft out from the house, at a public dock, where it was kept.
“Who’ll row?” asked Frank.
“Draw lots,” suggested Bart, and the choice fell to Ned and Fenn.
“Up or down?” asked Fenn.
“Row up and float down,” said Ned. “We don’t want to be working all the while.”
They went up the stream for two or three miles, and Frank, who had borrowed Ned’s fishing tackle, cast in. But the fish did not seem to be biting.
“Put up a little further,” suggested Frank. “We’re almost to the Riffles. I’d like to get a bite as long as I’m at it.”
As the boat was sent round a turn of the river the boys caught sight of another craft in which a man was seated. His boat appeared to be anchored, and as he stood in the bow he reached down into the water with a long pole and seemed to be pulling something up.
He did this several times, and on each occasion would carefully examine the end of the pole which he had stuck into the river.
“That’s an odd proceeding,” remarked Bart, as he looked at the lone boatman.
The man seemed to pay no attention to the approach of the boys’ boat. He kept on dipping the long pole into the water, shoving it down as far as it would go, and then carefully examining the end of it. As the chums came nearer they saw he was conducting his investigations by means of a large magnifying glass.
“Must be small fish he’s after,” observed Frank.
“Why it’s the luna—” began Fenn, as he looked at the man, whose boat was now opposite that of the boys.
“Hush!” exclaimed Frank, and Fenn did not finish the sentence.
The chums saw the man was the strange person they had met in the woods. At the same time the fellow looked up and seemed to recognize them.
“Have you seen the King of Paprica?” he asked, as he laid down his pole and began to pull up the rope attached to a small anchor.
“Not to-day,” replied Bart. “What are you fishing for, if I may ask?”
“You certainly may,” was the answer. “I am probing for bullets.”
“For bullets?”
“Yes, you see the king observed some one shooting up the river last night, and he directed me to probe for the bullets.”
“Shooting up the river?” inquired Ned.
“Yes, in a boat, you know. Did you think I meant a gun? How could one shoot up in a gun? But don’t mention to the king that you saw me. He’s not expecting to hear from me, and it might annoy him,” and the man allowed the boat to drift down stream again before he brought it to anchor. Then he began sticking the pole down into the mud and resumed his operation of examining the end with the magnifying glass.
“Crazy as a loon,” remarked Frank, in a low tone. “Row on, fellows.”
“I’d like to go ashore and have a look into that hut,” remarked Ned.
“Better not,” cautioned Frank. “There!” he exclaimed, “I’ve got one,” and he pulled in a fine large fish.
He had several bites after that, and, becoming interested in his success, Ned and Fenn rowedfurther up stream where the fishing was better. Frank caught eight fish before the boys decided to go home. They looked for the strange man in the boat, as they floated past where he had been, but he was not in sight, nor was his craft to be seen.
“Something’s up,” remarked Ned to Bart, as they met the next Monday on the school campus.
“What do you mean?”
“Keep your eye on Sandy Merton.”
Indeed Sandy did seem to be unusually busy. He went about from one part of the grounds to another, talking first with one boy and then with another. Most of them were lads with whom the chums were not on very familiar terms.
“What do you s’pose he’s up to?” asked Bart.
“Can’t guess, unless it has something to do with baseball.”
“I’m going to find out,” spoke Bart.
He approached one of the boys with whom he had seen Sandy conversing.
“What was Sandy asking you, if it’s no secret?” inquired the captain of the nine.
“Well, it is a sort of secret,” replied Fred Jenkins. “You’ll hear of it soon enough though,” and he turned away.
“Looks like a plot,” commented Ned with an uneasy laugh.
Several other boys, whom Bart asked regarding Sandy’s activities, returned evasive answers. None of the intimate friends of the chums had been approached. Bart had no time to pursue his inquiries further as the bell rang for school to assemble.
At noon, however Sandy’s actions were explained. On a bulletin board, used to post announcements of athletic and other school events, was this notice:
“There will be a meeting of the Athletic Committee this afternoon to take action on a certain matter.”
“That’s some of Sandy’s work,” said Bart. “Well I’m ready for whatever happens.”
Several boys crowded around the board to read the notice. Sandy was not among them.
“Who wrote it?” inquired a number.
“Whoever did was afraid to sign his name,” commented Bart. “It’s in printing, so we couldn’t tell whose writing it is. Well, I’ll be at the meeting.”
It was an expectant group that gathered in the court which was used, after school, for sessions of the various clubs and teams. Sandy was on hand,talking earnestly to a number of the pupils. Finally he walked up to the big iron post where the chairman of whatever gathering was called, usually stood.
“We’re here to elect a new captain of the High School baseball nine,” Sandy announced.
“What’s that?” asked several, and the four chums looked at one another.
“I’m a member of the Athletic Committee,” went on Sandy. “I called this meeting.”
“It takes a majority of the committee to call a session,” interrupted Ned.
“Well, a majority did,” responded Sandy. “Fred Jenkins, Peter Rand, and John Andrews, with myself, constitute a majority. There are only seven members. Now we’ve decided to have an election for a new captain,” Sandy went on. “There’s some objection to the present one,” and he looked at Bart.
“Who from?” called Fenn.
“Plenty; ain’t there fellows?” asked Sandy, turning to a group of his friends.
“Yes,” came the rather feeble answers.
“I move that Lem Gordon be made captain,” called Fred Jenkins, evidently in furtherance of the plot Sandy had laid to oust Bart.
“Second it,” came from Peter Rand.
“Look here!” exclaimed Bart, and his friends noticed he was pale. “Why didn’t you come to me like a man, Sandy Merton, and tell me there was opposition? I’d have resigned in a minute. But this is a sneaky way of doing things and I’ll fight it, do you understand? I’ll resign if the majority says I ought to but not before. Now go ahead and hold your election!”
“Hurrah for Bart!” called some one and there was a loud shout.
“Order!” vainly called Sandy.
“We don’t want an election!” sang out another boy. “Bart is the best captain we ever had! Didn’t we lick the Preps?”
“That’s right!” yelled a number. “Bart for captain!”
“Let them have the election!” cried Bart. “I’m not afraid. I know what it’s all about. It’s because I didn’t let Sandy pitch that game. And what’s more,” he added, “I believe he deliberately put Lem out of business so he might have a chance!”
“That’s a falsehood!” cried Sandy, making a spring toward Bart.
“Ask Lem,” was Bart’s reply. “If you want to fight, Sandy Merton, come on!”
“Don’t talk that way,” counseled Ned. “Let’s see if we can’t settle this thing peaceably.”
“Go on with the election!” called Bart, who was getting excited. “I’m not afraid! I’ll resign if you want me to!”
“We don’t want you to!” cried a score of voices.
“All those in favor of Lem Gordon for captain say ‘aye,’” called Sandy.
“I won’t take it!” shouted Lem. “Bart’s the captain for me.”
“That’s right!” yelled a dozen voices.
“All those who want Bart to continue captain say so!” cried Ned.
“Yes!” and the shout made the windows rattle.
“That settles it. Election’s over,” declared Ned.
“I say it isn’t!” yelled Sandy. “The rules provide for ballots.”
“This is good enough for us,” came from a number of boys, as they crowded around Bart to shake hands. “Bart’s the captain!”
“That was a mean, sneaking plot!” declared Ned. “Sandy thought he could work up enough sentiment against Bart to get a candidate of hisown in and get back on the team. But he failed.”
“You bet he did!” exclaimed Fenn. “Come on, fellows. It’s all over.”
Most of the boys began leaving the court. Sandy, the picture of disappointed rage, stood in a group of his friends.
“Thanks to all who voted for me,” called Bart, as he made his way out past where Sandy stood.
“I’ll get even with you!” growled Sandy. “You think you’re the Czar of the school!”
“If you—” began Bart hotly, but Ned spoke:
“Don’t pay any attention to him. You’ll only get into trouble. It’s all over. It was only a trick of Sandy’s. He hasn’t ten friends in the whole school.”
The boys thronged from the court and out on the campus. There was a buzz of talk about what had taken place and Sandy came in for a severe “raking over the coals.”
“What did you mean by saying he hurt Lem on purpose?” asked Newton Bantry, a member of the nine.
“You ask Sandy and maybe he’ll tell you,” replied Bart. “I’m sorry I said it, and I won’t refer to it again. I may have been mistaken.”
“I guess Sandy won’t give us much chance to ask him anything,” said Newton.
“Why?”
“Because he’s going to leave school. I just heard him telling some of his cronies, those who were in the game with him. He says it’s almost the end of the term, and he’s going to work.”
“Well it’s small loss,” put in Ned. “Though he’s a good ball player when he wants to take thepains. The trouble is he’s too fond of playing tricks.”
There was no further dissension in the nine, and under Bart’s leadership it won several more games. The “Preps.” challenged the boys again, but, though the high school boys did their best, they could not win. They were beaten by one run, but that was regarded as a great achievement against the redoubtable nine of older lads, and almost equivalent to a victory.
The weeks passed, and the end of the school term came nearer. Examinations were the order of the day, and the chums had little time to go off on trips along the river save on Saturdays. They made several excursions into the woods, and kept a lookout for the two queer men, but did not see them.
One day Ned went off alone in a search for the hut with the strange inscription. But he could not find it. Either he could not locate the place where he had seen it or the cabin had been moved.
“I’d like to get at the bottom of this,” he murmured, as he tramped back home. “There’s a method in the madness of those men, I’m sure.”
But, if there was, Ned little dreamed what it portended.
“To-morrow’s the last day of school this term,” remarked Fenn, one afternoon as he and his chums strolled home. “My, but I’m glad of it! Those exams., especially the algebra, nearly floored me. Lucky there’s no more.”
“Never mind,” said Bart. “Forget it. We’ll have a lot of sport to-morrow. We can cut up a bit and the teachers won’t mind.”
“That’s so,” spoke Ned. “I’ve got to do something. I can feel it in my bones! Whoop! It must be something worthy of the Darewell Chums!” He began to do an impromptu war dance.
“Don’t get us into trouble,” came from Frank.
“Trouble? Did I ever get you into trouble?”
“Oh, no,” replied Bart sarcastically. “There wasn’t any trouble when you put the live frogs in Miss Mapes’s desk and scared her and all the other women teachers nearly into fits. There wasn’t any trouble when you let a lot of mice loose in the girls’ department. There wasn’t any trouble when you brought Jimmy Dodger’s pet coon in and yelled that it was a skunk. We didn’t get blamed for it all, did we? Oh, no, I guess not. Say, Ned, if you’re going to cut up, send in an advance notice that it’s your own doings and none of ours.”
“All right,” responded Ned. “If I get up the scheme myself I’ll take all the credit.”
“You’re welcome to it,” spoke Frank. “The credit—and what comes after.”
“Are you going to do anything?” asked Bart.
“Witness is not prepared to answer,” was Ned’s reply. “I may and I may not.”
If Ned’s chums could have seen him an hour later, talking to a farmer who lived about a mile outside of the town, they would have had grave suspicions regarding what he proposed to do to make the last day of school memorable.
The morning session of the last day passed off quietly enough. There was not much done in the way of lessons. Some students arranged with their teachers to do some studying during vacation to make up “conditions,” and others were consulting with the instructors about the work for next term.
Professor McCloud announced that the closing exercises would be held in the afternoon, the boys and girls assembling in the large auditorium on the second floor.
“I don’t see that you’re going to make good about that trick of yours,” observed Fenn to Ned at the noon recess.
“Who said I was going to play any trick?”
“Why I thought—”
“The day isn’t over yet,” said Ned, with a wink.
At one o’clock the boys and girls gathered in the large hall. Ned’s chums noticed he was not on hand, and they looked wonderingly at each other. There was no telling when or where Ned would break out.
A program of vocal and instrumental music was rendered and then came several recitations. It was while Jennie Smith was in the midst of a dramatic rendering of a poem telling of a maiden waiting and listening for the approach of her lover. She reached the lines:
“I feel his presence near me in the mystic midnight airI hear his footsteps coming, coming up the castle stair—”
“I feel his presence near me in the mystic midnight airI hear his footsteps coming, coming up the castle stair—”
At that moment there were, unmistakably, footsteps on the stair, only they were the stairs leading up from the court and not into a castle. Heavy footsteps they were, not at all lover-like. Up and up they came, sounding like several men with heavy boots on. Jennie paused, as she stood on the platform, and listened. The steps came nearer.
An instant later the door, which was not closed tightly, was pushed open, and into the big auditorium, in front of the pupils ambled a gentle-eyed cow, that, giving one astonished look around, uttered a loud “Moo!”
“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. Saidit 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 ahandful 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,”
“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.
“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 ayouth 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, beganmaking 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 Frankgot,” 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.
“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,” suggestedBart, “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’soffice. 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 footof 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 highestpoint 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.