Classes lagged that day, for the boys all had their minds on the missing colonel and his possible fate. Drill was carried through with its accustomed snap, justifying the statement of Lieutenant Sommers. In the evening the boys talked a good deal and several frequented the vicinity of the office, to be on hand in case anything new turned up. But nothing did, and when taps sounded the cadets went reluctantly to bed.
The week drifted on with no word of the colonel and the cadets ceased to talk about his disappearance. Each one of them thought constantly of the missing man but the subject had been talked out, especially since there were no additional details. On Saturday the cadets always enjoyed a half holiday, and on that day Don, Jim, Rhodes and Terry went rowing on Lake Blair.
Inspection took up most of Saturday morning, but there was no drill and no athletic training, although all of the football games and baseball games were played on Saturday afternoons. In between seasons the cadets spent Saturday afternoons amusing themselves as they saw fit, some of them going to town, or swimming when it was warm enough to swim, or finding other amusements. The four friends had been to the village and had bought some things, and now, upon their return to the school, Don proposed that they go rowing.
“Can’t keep you off the water, I see,” Terry grinned.
Don shrugged his shoulders. “I do love it, to tell you the truth. However, going rowing will be slightly different than sailing theLassie, if that is what you are referring to.”
“That’s what,” nodded Terry. “I haven’t been on the water as much as you have, but I won’t be sorry to go out myself.”
They went down to the boathouse on the lake and dragged out a large flat-bottomed rowboat which the cadets used whenever they liked. After launching it Rhodes and Jim took the oars and the other two sat in the stern. The two at the oars sent the boat out from the shore.
“Where away?” inquired Rhodes, looking at the two in the stern.
“I don’t care,” returned Don, lazily. “You might as well row around the lake and back. We haven’t seen all of it yet.”
“Do you expect to sit back and see me do all the work?” demanded Jim.
“Hadn’t thought much about it!” grinned Don. “Aren’t you?”
“Like heck I am,” retorted Jim.
They rowed down the lake to the point where it narrowed into a mere creek and then started up the opposite side, across from the school. Lake Blair was a body of blue water about three miles long and a half mile wide, deep only in the center, and it made a fitting setting for the old school. Thick trees ran down to the shore, and now that autumn was at hand the leaves on the trees had turned a multitude of brilliant colors.
“This is certainly one swell place,” commented Terry enthusiastically.
“Yes,” nodded Rhodes. “I love it. I don’t think there is any place I’d rather be.”
“Then you’ll be sorry to graduate,” observed Don.
Rhodes smiled. “No, I won’t. I’ll let you fellows in on a little secret of mine. After I have graduated Colonel Morrell, provided everything is all right, is going to make me permanent drill commander. So I will stay here for some years to come.”
“That’s great,” said Jim, heartily. “I hope, for your sake, that the colonel turns up all right.”
“I hope he turns up all right for his own sake. You fellows like this lake? Well, so do I, but even as beautiful as it is now, there is a time when I like it better. I like it in the winter, when it is a sheet of ice, and we have the best skating in the world. At night we build big bonfires along the shore and have a heck of a good time. That’s when you will like it.”
When they had rowed to the other end of the lake, which was little more than a brook, the boys changed places and Don and Terry took the oars. They rowed back toward the boathouse, keeping over near the further shore, away from the school. On the bank directly opposite the boathouse a fine tree bent over the water, and the boat drifted under this. The boys pulled in the oars and sat there talking.
The sun was going down in the west and the back of Woodcrest was bathed in a reddish-yellow light. All three of the main halls and old Clanhammer shared the light of the declining sun, and a pretty picture was created. After they had admired it for a time and had talked of many things, Rhodes looked at his watch.
“It isn’t exactly what you would call late, but maybe we had better be getting back. We can take our time about it and maybe get in a little fun in the gymnasium before suppertime. Shall we go?”
“All right,” agreed Jim, picking up an oar.
But Don held up his hand. “Wait a minute, you guys. Don’t pull out from under these trees, yet.”
“Why not?” inquired Rhodes. “What’s up?”
“Look toward Clanhammer Hall,” returned Don, who had been looking in that direction. “Look at that upstairs window, over to the right.”
The boys looked in the direction indicated by their chum. For a second they did not see anything, then suddenly a flash of light came from the window which Don had mentioned. It disappeared immediately and a second came, which was steadier than the first, then other flashes followed.
“Wonder what that is?” asked Terry.
“Don’t ask me,” shrugged Rhodes. “I thought there was no one in that place.”
Don turned to Jim. “Doesn’t that look to you like the Morse code?” he asked.
Jim nodded. “I think it is. Let’s see if we can catch anything.”
The four boys in the boat sat silently and watched the flashes from the house across the water. They knew that the signals were being made with a mirror, into which the descending sun was pouring its last rays. Flash followed flash, some of them long and some of them short. To Rhodes and Terry they meant nothing, but to the Mercer brothers, who had once been very familiar with the telegraph code, it was plain that two words were being repeated. When the flashes had ceased they looked at each other, startled.
“What did you make out of it?” asked Don.
“Why—why, it seemed to me, if I was reading correctly,” stammered Jim, “that whoever it was was signalling the words ‘No progress.’ Is that what you got?”
“Yes,” his brother nodded. “That is just what I got. ‘No progress’ is right.”
“But what in the world can ‘no progress’ mean?” asked Terry.
“I don’t know,” answered Don. “But it means that something is going on in that old hall.”
“But there is no one in the place,” objected Rhodes.
“Tell Charlie what you saw the day you got here, Terry,” suggested Jim.
Terry told his story and Rhodes was very interested. “That certainly is queer,” he commented, when Terry had finished. “It has always been understood here that no one was in the place. What an old man with a plate of food and candle could be doing in there is more than I can see.”
“I wonder where that signal was going?” mused Don, who had been watching the building intently. “It must have been directed to some point in the woods directly back of us. The message was in reality going right over our heads. Is there any kind of a building in the woods near here, Charlie?”
“As I remember it, there is an old farmhouse just back of us in the woods,” said Rhodes, after a moment of thought. “I recall seeing it on one or two hikes we took. That signal might easily have been directed to the farmhouse, at least to the upper windows of it. That is the only building anywhere within a radius of five miles.”
“Then that was the place where the message was received,” declared Jim, with conviction. “Can’t we hike over there now and take a look at the place? Is it very far?”
Rhodes shook his head. “Not very far. We can get there in fifteen minutes, and we can land from the boat here without being seen, thanks to the overhanging trees. Want to go?”
The others agreed at once and the boat was pushed to shore, where they got out and tied it firmly. Then, under the leadership of the upper classman, they took their way through the thick trees that grew back of the lake front.
They walked on for fifteen minutes through the dusk of woods, until, coming to a slight rise in the ground, they came in sight of the farmhouse. It was an old clapboard house, but kept in order nevertheless. The doors were in place and the windows were unbroken. A few unpainted boards of lighter color showed some attempt at repairs had been made. Weeds grew about the back yard in profusion. Standing in the rough yard near the back door was an expensive looking car. The boys halted in the shelter of some large trees to consider, well out of sight of anyone in the house.
“Look at the upper back windows,” directed Rhodes. “They are above the level of the tree tops, and from them anyone could plainly catch a signal from Clanhammer Hall. What shall we do, now that we are here?”
“I don’t see that there is anything to do,” returned Don. “We can’t go up to the place, and we know that it isn’t deserted. Perhaps——”
Jim grabbed his arm. “Pipe down,” he whispered. “Someone is coming!”
The back door of the house opened and a man came out. He was tall and thin and was clothed in a dark suit, long light overcoat. He wore a hat pulled down over his eyes. He looked all around as he stepped out of the door and then closed it behind him with a resounding slam. Reaching into his pocket he took out a key and placed it in the lock, turning it and trying the knob. This done he walked to the car, started his engine and rolled out of the yard.
The boys waited until he was well out of sight and then discussed further plans. Jim was cautious about going to the house but was overruled.
“It will be all right to go up and look in the windows,” Terry argued. “The man locked the door, and that’s a sure sign that no one is in the place.”
They approached the house carefully and looked in the back windows. The place was almost bare of furniture, but they did see a table and two old chairs in the kitchen. The rest of the house, at least downstairs, was totally empty. When they had made a tour of the place they gave it up.
“I doubt if there is anything upstairs,” said Don. “I imagine this man, whoever he is, simply comes here to receive messages from the hall. Perhaps at night they send them by flashlight. It certainly is a puzzler.”
Rhodes looked at his watch. “Boys, we’ll have to get going. We’ve got just time to make it for supper. I suppose we won’t accomplish anything by standing here wondering, so we may as well beat it.”
They retraced their steps hastily and rowed across the lake, where they put the boat away and went inside to wash up for supper. After the evening meal the four of them spent some time talking things over. Just before leaving them the senior said:
“Well, we’ll keep this to ourselves. Whatever is going on may be all right, but I have my doubts. I think there is a mystery right here under our own noses, and let’s hope we can run it down. Suppose we all keep our eyes peeled and see what we can do.”
Although the four cadets took care to keep their eyes wide open they saw nothing in the succeeding days to help them solve the mystery which they had run across. At times they discussed the subject and made guesses, but these generally ended in nothing, and there were times when they half believed that they might be making a mountain out of a mole hill. No news had been received as to the whereabouts of their missing colonel, and life at Woodcrest drifted on in the same efficient manner.
The arrival of a new cadet gave them something else to think about. One rainy day when the cadets were loitering about the halls waiting for the dinner call, a young fellow in his late teens arrived at the front door of Locke Hall. He was very dark, exceedingly well dressed, and carried himself with a swaggering air. He carried a suitcase plastered with foreign labels, and a cigarette drooped carelessly from one corner of his mouth. Gaining the center of the main hall he looked carelessly around. The cadets were standing in groups laughing and talking, and finally he addressed a third-class man.
“Say, sonny,” called the newcomer. “Where do I find the sign-on-the-dotted-line room?”
Considering the fact that Bertram, the third class cadet, was at least a year older than the newcomer, the term “sonny” was something out of the way. Talk ceased instantly among the cadets and they turned to look. Mr. Bertram answered with easy courtesy.
“That is the door down there,” he said.
The new man nodded easily. “Thanks, kid. Information is appreciated, I assure you. Is the agony man inside?”
“I beg your pardon?” asked Bertram.
“Is the clerk or headmaster or whoever officiates in there?”
“I think you will find someone in there who will take care of you,” returned the upper classman.
“I hope so. Somebody had better. I usually get what I want, you know.”
Mr. Bertram didn’t know anything about it and he looked fixedly at the boy. Totally unabashed at the looks cast in his direction the newcomer walked into the office, where an instructor was sitting behind the information desk.
The instructor looked up as the boy placed his suitcase on the floor. “How do you do?” he said, smiling pleasantly at the visitor. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the boy. “Not an awful lot, I guess. My name is Vench, Raoul Vench.” He paused and waited, but Captain Chalmers said nothing.
“My name is Vench,” repeated the newcomer.
“Yes, Mr. Vench. Well, what can I do to help you?”
“Do you mean to say that you didn’t know I was coming?” demanded the new student.
Chalmers shook his head, his glance keen. “I didn’t know it. Perhaps Major Tireson did. Are you going to register with us?”
“I certainly am,” answered the boy. “My father sent your headmaster a letter and told him that I was coming. I should have thought he would tell you, so you could be on the lookout for me. Yes, I’m going to be a member of your cadet corps and I’m here to sign up. Pass over the articles and a pen, already dipped in ink, if you don’t mind.”
Captain Chalmers looked steadily at the boy for an instant and then his gaze wandered to the groups of cadets outside of the door. Suddenly he bit his lips to keep back a smile, a rather grim one, and then reached in the drawer of the desk, to take out some sheets of paper and a pen. With intense seriousness he dipped the pen into the ink and then looked at Vench.
“Not cold, are you?” he asked.
“No,” answered the boy with a stare. “Why?”
“I thought maybe you were,” returned the instructor. “You still have your hat on. And that cigarette, which will be your last for something like four years, is already burned out. As there isn’t anything in that wastebasket you might throw it in there.”
Vench looked closely at the teacher and seemed on the point of saying something, but evidently he changed his mind, for he took off his hat, threw away the cigarette and turned once more to the captain.
“What is your name, please?” asked the instructor.
“Raoul Mulroy Vench, of Murray Bay, Florida, lately from Quebec and points all over the world,” glibly answered the youth. “Age, 18, unmarried, nationality American citizen, though French-Canadian. How is that for a start, general?”
“That is a very good start,” gravely replied the captain. “I’m glad you recognized my rank, Mr. Vench.” He continued to write for a few minutes and then looked up. “Have you any money on you at present?”
Mr. Vench looked knowing. “I’m surprised at you, sir. I only arrive here and you want to borrow from me already! Yes, I have a few odd pennies on me. About two hundred dollars, I think.”
“Hand it over, please, Mr. Vench. At the end of the year it will be returned to you. While you are here you will be allowed just two dollars a week of it, with which you can pay your expenses.”
Vench threw back his head and laughed. “Two dollars!” he exclaimed. “My dear man, I was counting on that two hundred lasting me just for two months, and that would be stretching it. Is it a joke?”
“Not at all, Mr. Vench. Have you read over the rules of the institution? Surely you must have. You didn’t come here without knowing the rules and regulations. The cadets are busy with their studies and athletics and have almost no use for ready money except for cokes and sodas. Transportation to games is furnished free and money is not strictly needed. You see how it is.”
“Yes, I see,” grumbled Vench, handing over the money. “I expected to have a good time in this place, but I see I am quite mistaken.”
Again Chalmers glanced at the groups in the hall. “I think you will have at least an interesting time here, Mr. Vench. Now the next thing for you to do is report at the medical department for examination.”
“The second nuisance, eh?” sighed Vench. “That’ll be a waste of time, officer. I’m in tip-top shape.”
“For the sake of our teams, I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Vench. However, the rules require that you go through with an examination.” Chalmers beckoned to a cadet in the hallway. “Will you step here a moment, Mr. Sears?”
Mr. Sears stepped up and saluted the instructor, who returned it. “Take Mr. Vench to the medical department,” the teacher directed.
“Very good, sir.” Sears turned to Vench. “Right this way, sir.”
Vench grinned and picked up his bag. “Right with you, usher. Thanks a lot, officer.” He followed Cadet Sears down the hall, passing carelessly through the waiting throng. Captain Chalmers looked thoughtfully after him, and then, shaking his head, resumed his work.
The cadets in the hall had remained quiet during the conversation, every word of which they had heard plainly, but now that Vench was out of earshot they began to talk.
“Hey, how do you like that!” chuckled Terry to the group around him.
“Well,” drawled Chipps, rubbing his chin. “I don’t just know what to think. You’ve got to give me time. This is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like that.”
“I’m afraid he’ll have a whole lot to learn,” smiled Don.
“If he lasts long enough to learn anything,” said Jim.
“All in the line of duty,” added Rhodes. “We’ll have to help him lose some of his flipness and importance. What do you say, Lieutenant Sommers?”
“I’d say that the spirit of the corps will have a hard time sinking into him,” said Sommers, as the bell sounded.
Mr. Vench was fitted out with a uniform that afternoon and little more was seen of him. But on the following day he began his career at Woodcrest, and that career furnished amusement and some annoyance to the cadet body. The boy was thoroughly spoiled and almost unbearable. Two of the seniors and Terry tried to do the right thing by calling on him that evening, in an effort to make him feel at home. Terry returned to his room and reported in high disgust to Don and Jim.
“My gosh, what a sample of misdirected energy!” he exclaimed with a snort. “We tried to be decent to him in spite of what we saw this noon, but it was time wasted. Not that he was rude, but absolutely unbearable! Talks continually of his travels, his girl friends, who seem to swoon with grief if he doesn’t write daily, and his ability to do all of everything on the face of the earth. I’m through. I’m willing to try to be nice to any fellow who will be halfway human, but I draw the line on one who spends all of his time praising his own virtues.”
“Likes himself, eh?” inquired Jim.
“No,” snapped Terry. “Bows down and worships himself. I’m afraid that boy will run aground on trouble hard.”
“And yet,” said Don, slowly. “I imagine he could be a very nice guy if he wanted to be. Maybe he’ll come out of his shell sometime.”
“I’m glad you imagine it,” retorted Terry. “That’s as far as it is likely to go.”
“All right, Terry,” Jim grinned. “Hadn’t you better study your history? Any man that will try and tell his teacher, as you did today, that Blucher wasn’t at the battle of Waterloo, should brush up a bit, I think.”
“Okay, kid, I will. The only thing that surprises me is the fact that Vench wasn’t there, or related to Napoleon or something else. Maybe he was, I don’t know. That fellow is thoroughly spoiled.”
“A little too much money, no doubt,” said Don. “If we give him a chance he’ll get over it.”
“Optimist!” said Terry, beginning to study.
Few if any of the cadets were inclined to take Don’s view of Cadet Vench. During the following days he made himself objectionable in every way. Even in the drill he tried to show his superiority, but Lieutenant Sommers promptly checked him and after due and fair consideration reported his short-comings. Major Tireson rebuked the unruly cadet and he had no more use for the precise lieutenant. But Sommers took great pride in the squads that it was his duty to drill, and the cadets, always inclined to laugh at the dignity of the fussy lieutenant, upheld him in his act.
Vench had few friends, and they were recruited from the weaker element of the fourth class, with whom he was very liberal. It was evident that he had more money than his allowance and it was thought that he had lied to Captain Chalmers or that he was getting it from some outside source. A small group went often to the town and ate plentifully between meals, but as it was not particularly the business of the cadets they commented on it among themselves and let it go at that.
One boast that Vench made was listened to with interest by the entire body of cadets. He was standing with the group of fourth classmen just before the study hall bell rang, and Don and Terry heard it. That morning Major Tireson had made a statement that most of the cadets thought unnecessary. He had told them that with the colonel not there, he didn’t think it was wise to plan on having their mid-term dance that year.
Several times during the year, mid-term, Christmas, and in the spring, the school held a dance. Each class usually sponsored one of these events and kept whatever profit they made. The competition was high among the four classes, each one trying to outdo the next in originality and cleverness. It took a good deal of ingenuity to plan decorations that could disguise the gym for an evening. The year before, the second-class men, who had sponsored the spring prom, had transformed the gym into a carnival. They had even devised a revolving stage resembling a carrousel from which the band played.
Major Tireson, however, was firmly against holding a dance in the colonel’s absence.
“He needn’t worry,” Rhodes had said, briefly. “Until the colonel gets back we aren’t likely to do any of the things we generally do, or have much fun.”
Vench was defiant about it. “Half the fun of going to school is having dances and picnics,” he said, in study hall. “At all the other schools I’ve been to, they have lots of them. But this stuffy old major vetoes it before we even have a chance to suggest it. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to organize the best dance this school’s ever seen. Something that will go down in the unwritten history of this academy.”
“Better wait until the colonel gets back before you do, Vench,” advised Don.
“I will not! I’ll do as I please!”
“Suit yourself,” said Don, turning away.
“I generally do. Want to be in on it, Redhead?”
“Why, I think not,” drawled Terry. “I don’t want to be dismissed from here in my very first year. And referring to the highly disrespectful way in which you speak of my blond locks, don’t you think they might shine out in the darkness and give you and your party away?”
“You guys make me sick!” growled Vench.
“Sorry,” said Terry. “Can I show you the way to the doctor’s office?”
Late in the afternoon Jim and Rhodes got special permission from the Officer of the Day and went to the town to buy some things. Special permission was necessary except on Saturday afternoons, and they lingered in town until the sun had set. The days were growing much shorter and it was dark when they arrived at the gate and walked up the path. None of the cadets were around and they started to cross the lawn when Rhodes pulled Jim suddenly into a clump of high bushes that lined the path.
“What’s up?” asked Jim, quickly.
“Somebody just came around Locke Hall and is going toward Clanhammer!” whispered the senior.
Jim looked in the direction indicated and saw that Rhodes was speaking the truth. A man, his form somewhat indistinct in the twilight, was walking rapidly down the path in the direction of the silent old hall. By peering through the bushes the two cadets could watch him, and they could hear his footsteps on the gravel. The man did not pause or look behind, but walked straight up the stone steps, inserted a key in the lock and opened the door. With a bold and confident step he went inside.
“Wonder who in the world that is?” breathed Jim.
“I couldn’t make out,” replied Rhodes. “But who ever it is, he has the key to Clanhammer Hall. There is no light in the place, so he must know his way around.”
They waited for some time, but no one appeared and the hall remained in total darkness. Rhodes looked at his watch.
“We’ll have to go,” he announced, regretfully. “We have to be in at six, you know, and it is ten of now. We have to wash for supper, so we haven’t any time to spare. I’d surely like to stay here and see who comes out.”
“So would I,” agreed Jim. “But we’ll have to go. If we could only see who it was!”
The two cadets returned to the building, checked in, and went to their rooms. While Jim washed he told the other two of their discovery. Terry went to the window and watched the lawn, but without discovering anything.
“We’ll see if anyone is missing from the dining hall,” Don suggested. But although they took great care to check up they could learn nothing at the evening meal. Every cadet and officer was in his place at the tables.
“That leaves us one theory,” decided Rhodes, a little later, as they talked it over in the boys’ room. “Either the man got back before supper or one of the cooks or the janitor went in there. The question is: who, besides the colonel, has a key to Clanhammer Hall?”
For the next few days nothing worthy of note happened. It was early one morning the following week that things began to move. The boys had studied until bedtime and had turned in when the lights were put out. Life at the school flowed on as it did when the colonel had been there. Mr. Vench seemed busier than usual and made several trips to town. Clanhammer Hall revealed nothing new.
How long the boys had been asleep on that particular night they did not know, but they were aroused by a sound that was entirely new to them. A furious clanging of gongs sounded throughout the school on every hall and stairs, and the cadets started up in bed with rapidly beating hearts. They had often seen the huge gongs out in the halls but had never heard them in action. Now they were being rung violently.
Terry was the first to bounce out of his bed. “Come on, you guys,” he called. “The school is on fire!”
Don and Jim lost no time in springing from their beds and reaching for their clothes. “Too bad they don’t turn on the lights,” he grumbled.
As though in answer to his complaint the overhead lights were turned on and the boys could see what they were doing. The sound of the gongs then died down abruptly, but a rushing, scattering sound told them that the cadets were all up and hurrying into their clothes.
“Wonder where it is?” speculated Jim, as he pulled on his shirt. “I don’t see any blaze or smell any smoke.”
“It may only be a very small one,” said Terry, who was now fully dressed. “I suppose we report in assembly, don’t we? Or maybe we march out on the campus. One thing they have neglected to do around here is to give us any fire regulations.”
Terry was right in his statement and the Mercers wondered if the oversight was due to the fact that the colonel was missing. They opened their door and hurried out into the hall. Almost every door was open and cadets were talking and walking toward the stairs.
The cadet captain of the third class hurried down the hall and saw to it that each boy was out of his room. With the rest of the cadets in Locke Hall the three chums went down the stairs and found the biggest gathering in the hall. There was no smoke or fire to be seen anywhere.
“Well, there may be a fire somewhere,” observed Terry. “But it certainly ran away in a hurry.”
“Whatever it was, it was in the library,” a cadet said. “I just saw the Officer of the Day and Major Tireson go in there in a hurry.”
With one accord the cadets trooped down the lower hall and congregated at the door of the library. They noticed that the door was flung far back and that the lock was still sprung. It was evident that the door had been violently broken open, and as none of the cadets had ever known the library door to be locked, they were surprised.
A number of books had been thrown out of a bookcase near the panelled wall, and the major and Rollins, the appointed Officer of the Day, were looking closely at an old portrait on the wall. Impelled by their growing curiosity the cadets of Locke Hall crowded into the room and around the two officers. Then they saw that the bottom of the picture, along the frame, had been slashed for at least five inches, close to the wood. The picture, an inexpensive one portraying the celebrated “Thin Red Line” in action, was a familiar article to the young men, and they were at a loss to know why it should have been slashed.
“Very singular,” Major Tireson was saying. “Let me have a full account of what happened, Rollins.”
“I had finished my duties as Officer of the Day,” said Rollins. “And I had returned to my room, unfortunately forgetting to return my report book to the office. I noticed the omission and was going back with the book when I saw the library door closed and a light coming out from beneath. I knew that there should be no light there at this time of night—or morning, and I quietly opened the door. Two men were in the room, one of whom was engaged in slitting the picture, while the other stood near the door in which I was looking. He must have heard me step to the door, for before I could grapple with him he had thrown his weight against the door and pushed me out into the hall. I heard the lock snapped into place and then I rang the gongs to attract attention and get help. As you know, when you and I finally broke in, the men were gone, probably through the window.”
“Did you get any kind of a glance at the faces of the men?” asked the major.
“Only a brief glimpse, sir. The man at the portrait had his face turned away and I didn’t see it at all, but the man here at the door gave me just time to see him. He was tall and quite dark, but as he had a slouch hat pulled down over his eyes I could not altogether make him out. That is all I have to report, sir.”
The major’s eyes wandered back to the slashed picture and a puzzled look spread over his face. “I can’t see what object any outsider could have in our picture,” he observed. “It certainly isn’t a masterpiece or anything of the kind.” He turned and frowned slightly at the cadets who had listened with great attention. “You wouldn’t say it was one of the men of the corps, up to any prank, would you, Rollins?”
“Oh, no, sir,” promptly reported the cadet. “These were men dressed in business suits and civilian hats.”
“Well,” decided the major, “I suppose the men have gotten away; in fact I heard the motor of an automobile as I came downstairs. This is most puzzling. In the future you had better quietly call me instead of ringing the fire alarm. I see that the cadets from Inslee and Clinton Hall are here, too.”
The major soon after ordered them to their rooms, and the cadets from the other halls, who had turned out when they had heard the clashing gongs in Locke, went back to their dormitories, a confused idea of the whole thing in their minds. The students from Locke Hall went rather reluctantly up to their rooms, but many of them did not attempt to go to sleep at once. Each room held its own conference, and that occupied by the Mercers and Terry was no exception.
“Suppose it all had something to do with what goes on at Clanhammer Hall?” whispered Jim, as they sat on Don’s bed in the darkness.
“I don’t know what to think,” his brother answered. “This happening beats them all, to my way of thinking. You can imagine some sort of an excuse for most actions, but who in the world could explain why two men should start to cut out a cheap picture in our library?”
They talked it all over and at length, but they arrived nowhere, so at last they went to sleep and slept soundly until morning. It was an excited and interested group of cadets who assembled in the chapel that morning, and they waited impatiently to see if the temporary headmaster would say anything about the events of the past morning. But to their disappointment he did not and they went away to classes, to speculate all day on the mystery.
But just before it was time to report for drill, and just as the last class was about to break up, certain cadets appeared in each classroom and gave instructions to the teacher. In the class where the fourth class men were studying Captain Chalmers rapped for attention.
“Immediately after leaving this classroom you will report to general assembly,” he announced.
There was a buzz and a stir among the cadets, and as soon as books had been put away they hurried to the assembly. An undercurrent of excitement was clearly visible, and they were eager for news of some sort. The major called for order and delivered his message briefly.
“It is not necessary for me to recount the details of what went on here last night,” he stated. “You all know it, I am sure. However, we have learned nothing new, and while I am not inclined to treat the matter as being of any importance, still I do think we may use it for a little military practice. My thought is that for the next few days we will detail certain cadets to do active guard duty around the school all night. That will give you each a touch of true military life. The captains of the classes will tell you when you are to serve, and also give you your position. Any negligence while on duty will not be tolerated. Assembly dismissed.”
Drill followed, but what followed drill was not part of the schedule, though human and natural. A general buzzing and discussion took place all over the campus and in rooms. Most of the boys welcomed the idea of patrolling the grounds because of the novelty of it, but they were divided as to the major’s reason. Could it be possible that he was really afraid? This question was more than the cadets could answer, and it furnished food for much speculation.
Don hurried into the room soon after supper with a grin on his face. “Well, I got it!” he announced.
“Got what?” asked Jim.
“I got my watch tonight,” Don explained. “From eleven ’til twelve I patrol from the end of the campus to the east gate, up the hill and down.”
“And while you are walking we’ll be blissfully sleeping,” smiled Terry.
“Oh, I don’t mind, tonight,” answered Don. “It looks as though it is going to be a peach of a night, with a big moon. I may be a whole lot luckier than you two, at that. You may get something like two or three in the morning, perhaps on a rainy morning, and I’ll be the one to sleep blissfully.”
“Say,” spoke up Jim. “Your patrol takes you right back of Clanhammer Hall, doesn’t it?”
There was silence for a minute and then Don nodded. “Yes, it does,” he said. “I pass right back of it. From the edge of the campus I walk back of the hall, down the slope near the lake and to the gate. Yes, I’ll pass the old place a good many times, I guess.”
“Perhaps you’ll see something that may help a bit,” Terry said. “Be careful not to get tangled up in anything, though.”
Don was compelled to go to bed until a quarter of eleven, when the Officer of the Day rapped on his door and in a low tone told him to report for guard duty. Both of the other boys were sound asleep when Don left the room and went to the office. A cadet by the name of Arthurs was due to be relieved, and Don received final instructions. Then, taking his rifle, which the cadets used in drill, Don went out of the side door of Locke Hall to the edge of the campus and waited for Arthurs.
The cadet came across the campus from the direction of the old hall and saluted Don briskly. He said that there was nothing to report.
“I’m a little sorry to have you relieve me,” he smiled. “Although I’m getting tired of tramping up and down. Nice night, isn’t it?”
Don said that it was, and after saying goodnight to Arthurs he commenced his patrol. His way led him across the grassy campus back of the school, back of the gloomy old hall and down the slope near the lake to the iron gate at the east end of the school grounds. He made his first trip and found that it took him a full five minutes from point to point.
Don rather liked the whole idea. It might be quite useless as far as definite results went, but it was fun and a touch of the life which interested him. All of the boys would have to take turns at it, and he knew as he paced up and down that other cadets were patrolling on the other three sides of the school. He had been very fortunate in the time, for a fine big moon rode overhead, lighting the country up in a yellow splendor. The night was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and he felt exhilarated as he moved along with a swift, snappy stride.
Each time he passed back of the old hall he looked searchingly at it, but it was deserted and black, seemingly wrapped up in its covering of ivy. Down by the east gate he lost sight of it, and it was a minute or more before he once more walked around back of it. Don had been patrolling for almost forty minutes, and was now down near the gate. Reaching it, he swung around and started on his backward patrol.
He once more came in sight of Clanhammer Hall and started to pass by it. His patrol had taken him some fifty feet back of the hall, close to some small trees, and he entered a patch of black shadows. From force of habit he looked at the old building and then came to a swift halt.
A file of seven men, bending low and obviously keeping in the shadows of the old place, was making its way around the corner of the building. Each of these cadets, whose uniforms Don could plainly make out, held something in his hand. Astonishment seized Don, and although he had a faint notion of what might be going on, he could hardly believe it.
But he knew his duty and he was quite determined to carry that out. It was evident to him that they thought he was still down by the gate. Lowering his rifle he stepped forward and then stopped.
He thought at first that they intended to gather in some corner outside the building, but he found he was mistaken. They had approached a cellar window and the leader raised it and thrust his leg through. Don hurried forward, challenging them sharply.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
The seven cadets, with the leader halfway through the window, started and turned. Don’s suspicions were confirmed. They were all fourth class men and each one of them had tools in his hand. They looked foolish and confused and glanced at each other.
“Hey!” cried Don, as no one spoke. “What’s going on here?”
“We were going in to fix up this old hall for a dance, Mercer,” said a cadet.
Don was bewildered. “On a night like this, when we have guard duty?” he cried. “And almost at twelve o’clock. You guys must be bats!” A sudden suspicion came over him. “Tell me, whose idea was this?”
There was an interval of silence and then the cadet who had answered him at first replied. “Vench’s idea.”
“I thought so,” nodded Don. “Why did he pick out tonight and why this place?”
“Well,” answered the spokesman. “He said he was going to put on a dance that would go down in history, and he wanted to do the decorating tonight, when there were guards out, and we’d have it in Clanhammer Hall, because nobody ever goes in there.”