CHAPTER XX
THE PLOTTERS CAUGHT
Professor Clatterswung wide the door, and the figure of the rain-maker toppled in, rather than walked.
“Quick! Shut it and lock it!” he cried, and he assisted in the operation. Then he passed beyond the small room in the rear of the wagon—a room that served as dining hall, living apartment, sitting room and parlor, and in a few seconds Mr. Somnus could be heard crawling into one of the bunks.
“If they come for me—you haven’t seen me, of course,” came his voice in muffled tones, indicating that his head was under the bed clothes.
“Of course not, my dear Tithy,” replied the professor. “And, in fact, so quick was your passage through, like a half back making a touchdown, to use a phrase doubtless familiar to my friend Bill Smith—to use that phrase, I have scarcely seen you. But what is the matter? Why this haste? There doesn’t seem to be any one following you—at least not at your heels.”
“Are you sure?” asked the muffled voice.
“Sure, yes, Tithy,” replied the medicine man, after a moment of listening. “No one is coming. But what in the world is the matter?”
“Oh, it’s an unfortunate mistake I made,” was the answer. “If you’ll wait a while, to make sure the policeand sheriffs officers are not after me, I’ll come out and explain.”
“I wish you would, Tithy, for Bill and I are much in the dark.”
After a wait of several minutes, during which Bill wondered what in the world could have caused the rain-maker to flee in such terror, the individual in question came out of the compartment devoted to the sleeping bunks.
“Well?” asked the professor.
“Not well—bad,” was the despondent reply. “You see I found the star-gazing trade poor lately, on account of so many cloudy nights, so, in order to make a living I ventured to proclaim that I would read the stars and reveal the future—for a consideration. It was risky, I know, but I did it, and did it well—for a time.
“All was prosperous and happy, until to-night, just before supper I was visited by a man who wanted to know whether he would be successful in a certain undertaking. I consulted my charts and said that he would.”
“What was the undertaking?” asked Bill.
“He was going to collect a long overdue bill from a man who owed him some money,” went on the astronomer. “I told him to be firm, and he would succeed.
“A little later he came back, all tattered and torn, with one eye blackened, his collar a rag, and his clothes covered with dirt. He entered my wagon without knocking, and presented himself before me.
“‘I was firm!’ he shouted at me, ‘but I did not succeed. This is what the other man did to me!’ Oh, it was terrible. He accused me of deceiving him, and he sprangat me, and would doubtless have made me suffer, but I escaped through the front door, leaving my beloved cat, Scratch, behind, and I fled here.
“As I ran on I could hear the terrible threats the man uttered against me, of causing my arrest. Even now I fear—hark! What’s that?”
Mr. Somnus paused in alarm, and seemed about to dart for the bunks again.
“Nothing—absolutely nothing,” answered the professor, calmly. Mr. Somnus listened, and seemed satisfied.
“I guess that fellow didn’t mean all he said,” put in Bill.
“Perhaps,” agreed the astronomer, with a sigh. “I certainly hope not.”
“You are not the only one who has troubles,” went on the traveling medicine man. “Here’s Bill.”
“What troubles has he?” asked Mr. Somnus. “Has he been predicting—reading the stars?”
“Not exactly,” answered the pitcher. And then Professor Clatter told about the proposed painting of the statue and his own warning.
“I’m glad you happened in, Tithy,” went on the vendor of the Peerless Permanent Pain Preventative, “for I’d like your opinion about this matter. I say it’s a plot to get Bill and his brothers into trouble, what do you think about it?” He detailed the reasons for his suspicions, and waited for an answer.
“Well,” began the fugitive, “not speaking by the stars at all, you understand, and making no promises for which I can be held responsible, I think you’re right, Theophilus. And I’d advise Bill to look out.”
“But how?” eagerly asked the pitcher. “I’m beginning to agree with you. How can I catch Mersfeld and North at their little game, for a game I think it is?”
“Easy enough,” said the professor. “Go on as if you and your brothers and Whistle-Breeches—Oh, what a classical name—go on as if you intended to carry out the trick. Take my word for it those fellows will be hidden somewhere ready to see you caught, and you can turn the tables on them.
“In some way they will, I feel sure, get word to the college authorities of what is on foot. Very well, you have but to stay away at the last moment, and give some sign by which the proctor will be led to the hiding place of your enemies. Then, by judiciously spilling a little of the pink paint near their rooms, and secreting a pot of it near their hiding place, you will have them on the hip, as my friends the Romans say.”
“Good!” cried Bill, after a moment’s thought, “I’ll do it.”
“Then here is the pink powder,” went on the professor, handing Bill several packages, “and may luck attend you. Just mix it with water, and it will do the work. Now, Tithy, I can attend to your case.”
“And I’ll get back to school, and put up a game on North and Mersfeld,” said Bill.
“We wish we could be there to see,” spoke Mr. Clatter in eager tones. “Tithy and I would enjoy it, but we have troubles of our own. I’ll be around this way in about two weeks again, and you can tell me about it.”
“Come to the ball game,” invited Bill. “We’re going to play Sandrim in a league contest.”
“I will, if I am not in jail,” promised the astronomer solemnly.
Bill hurried back to his brothers and told his story, adding the professor’s suspicions, warnings and advice.
“The sneaks!” burst out Cap. “Mersfeld and North to put up a game like that on us.”
“And Chapin to go in with them,” added Pete.
“They ought to be run out of school!” declared Whistle-Breeches.
“Easy,” suggested Bill. “Maybe Bob Chapin didn’t know what he was up against. We’ll have a talk with him.”
Bob soon proved to the satisfaction of the Smith brothers and Donald Anderson, that he was not aware of the “double cross” plan of the deposed Varsity pitcher.
“North and Mersfeld suggested the scheme to me,” Bob admitted, “and said you fellows would be good ones to do it.”
“And they’re going to play a safety, and hide somewhere to watch us be nabbed by McNibb; aren’t they?” demanded Cap.
“They’re going to hide some place near the statue,” replied Bob, “because I heard them saying something about it. But, honest, fellows, I didn’t know that they were going to squeal. They got me all worked up and I was interested. I hope you believe me.”
“We do,” Bill assured him. “Now to get even. I guess, in case they make the split, that they’ll send an anonymous letter to McNibb. How about it?”
“Naturally,” agreed Cap and Pete.
“Then we’ll add another,” went on Bill, “and in itwe’ll disclose the hiding place of the sneaks. Where did you say it would be, Bob?”
“In the clump of rhododendron bushes in front of the statue.”
“Good! Now the plot thickens, and we’ll have to thicken the pink paint. Come on, fellows, get busy. First I’ll prepare the second anonymous letter.”
A few hours later Proctor McNibb was rather surprised to receive a screed, signed with no name, informing him that a plot existed among a certain lot of Freshmen, and that the said plot consisted of a plan to paint the founder’s statue baby-pink.
“If you wish to catch the vandals, be on hand near the statue shortly after midnight,” the anonymous epistle went on.
Now the proctor was an honorable man, and usually did not pay much attention to unsigned letters. But here was one he felt that he must heed. Where it had come from he did not bother his head about.
“Some upper classmen, who have given over such sacrilegious horse-play may have sent it,” he argued, “or the townsman from whom the paint was purchased may have been stricken with remorse, or have a fear that he will be found out. At any rate I’ll catch them red-handed. No, pink-handed I guess,” and the proctor smiled at his joke.
The official’s surprise may be imagined when, shortly after the receipt of the first letter, he got another. Our friends had a spy, in the person of one of the janitors, who did work in that part of the school where Mr. McNibb had his rooms, and the janitor at once informedBill when there were signs of unusual activity in the proctor’s office.
“It’s their letter!” declared Bill. “Now for ours!” and it was sent, disclosing the information that the would-be painters of the statue would be hidden in the clump of rhododendron bushes.
Then there was a busy time for our friends. Throwing in his lot with the Smith boys and Whistle-Breeches, Bob Chapin helped them in the plot, by pretending to keep Mersfeld and North posted.
“You can hide in the bushes, just as you planned,” said the languid youth to them.
“And see the fun?” eagerly asked Mersfeld. “Will they be on hand?”
“Oh, they’ll be on hand all right,” said Bob, and there was a grim smile on his face, which the plotters did not observe.
So anxious were they to be present, and see the Smith boys captured, that Mersfeld and North left their rooms early. This was the cue for Bill and his brothers to make their way to the enemies’ apartments, and, by scattering around a little of the pink mixture, give the idea, to a casual observer, that the coloring stuff had been prepared there.
In the meanwhile, and before the two lads who had planned to get their classmates in trouble had gone to their hiding place, several pails of the pink mixture had been hidden in the clump of bushes. Strings led from the pails to behind a stone wall, where Bill, his brothers, together with Whistle-Breeches and Bob, would hide. At the proper time the strings would be pulled, and the stuffupset. This would be additional evidence against the two plotters.
“Well, I guess it’s about time for us to go out,” said Cap, as midnight approached, that hour, having been suggested to Bob by the plotters. “Go easy, now, for McNibb may have spotters posted.”
“No, I think not,” said Bob. “He’ll depend on catching us at the statue. Oh, wow! Won’t those fellows be surprised!”
Mersfeld and North were in hiding. They had been waiting for some time.
“Hang it all!” muttered the deposed Varsity pitcher, “why don’t they come?”
“Oh, they’ll be here all right.”
“You don’t s’pose they could have backed out; do you?”
“No, Bob Chapin said they were hot for the trick, and rose to it like a hungry trout to a fly. Oh, they’ll be here.”
“Then I wish they’d hurry. I’m getting a cramp in my leg, crouching down so long.”
“That’s nothing. I know I’ll have rheumatism or housemaid’s knee, or something like it, for sitting on the damp ground. But think of it! They’ll be suspended, and you’ll be back on the nine!”
“Yes, that makes it worth while.”
“Hark! I think I hear something!” cried North suddenly.
They peered out. Two dark figures could be seen coming cautiously around the base of the statue.
“That’s them!” whispered Mersfeld.
“No, that’s McNibb, and one of the janitors is with him. He’s too early! He’ll scare ’em off!”
“Jove! It looks so. I wonder—”
“Say! He’s heading this way!” cried North suddenly. “Can he see us?”
They waited in an agony of fear and apprehension. There was a movement in the bushes—a curious sloshing, splashing sound, and something seemed to be flowing around the feet of the two plotters.
“Great guns!” cried Mersfeld, “what are we up against?”
“Keep quiet,” begged North hoarsely.
It was too late.
“Ha! I have you! Waiting for a chance to despoil the statue; are you?” cried the voice of the proctor.
He made a rush for the bushes. Mersfeld and North made a rush to get out. Their feet became entangled in the strings that had been pulled a moment before by the hidden Smith boys. Down in the pink paint went the conspirators, just as the proctor and his impressed aide hurried up and grabbed them.
“I have you!” exclaimed the college official. “I have stopped your nefarious work just in time. Strike a match, Biddel.”
The janitor obeyed. In the glow stood two sorry-looking figures, pink paint dripping from them.
“Mersfeld and North!” ejaculated the proctor. “I would not have believed a member of the Varsity nine capable of such a trick.”
“We weren’t going to do it,” began the pitcher, and then the futility of the denial made itself plain to him,as in the dying glow of the match he saw the sight he and his companion presented.
“Follow me, gentlemen,” said the proctor simply, leading the way to his quarters.
“Caught in their own trap!” whispered Bill softly, as he and his brothers and chums looked over the top of the wall, and saw what had taken place.
“Talk about painting the town red,” murmured Cap. “The verygrassispink, over there,” and chuckling to themselves our heroes hurried to their rooms lest they, too, be taken in for being out after hours.