Читать книгу Dave Porter's Return to School. Winning the Medal of Honor - Stratemeyer Edward - Страница 5

It took Dave several days to settle down and during that time he heard but little from Gus Plum and Nat Poole, who prudently kept their distance, awaiting the time when they might do Dave some injury.

During those days Roger Morr and Phil Lawrence arrived, both hale and hearty from their trip with Dave across the Pacific. The senator's son had spent two days in Washington with his father, while Phil had been settling up some affairs with his parent regarding the cargo of the Stormy Petrel.

"This is certainly like old times," remarked Roger, as the crowd sat in their dormitory. "I hope we have as much sport as we did last season."

"We will have, don't worry," answered Phil.

"Provided Job Haskers doesn't stop us," said Buster Beggs, who was lying across one of the beds. "Tell you what, boys, he is sharp on this term. Yesterday he caught me writing on the boathouse wall and he made me write 'chirography' five hundred times."

"Well, that's a good way to improve your handwriting," answered Dave, with a smile. "I've done a little of that sort of thing myself."

"He kept me in two hours yesterday, when I wanted to play football," growled Shadow Hamilton. "It was a burning shame."

"But what did you do?" questioned Roger.

"Oh, nothing much. Nat Poole was coming down the aisle and he made a face at me. I happened to stretch out my leg and Poole tripped and went flat. Then old Haskers said it was all my fault."

"And what did Poole say?" asked Sam, with interest.

"Oh, he threatened to punch me good – but he didn't do it. He started to quarrel after school, but Gus Plum called him off."

"Well, that was queer," observed Dave. "Generally Gus is out for a fight."

"Which puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "A little – "

"Narrative No. 206," broke in Sam.

"You shan't keep me from telling it," went on Shadow, calmly. "A little man – "

"How small?" asked Roger, with a wink at the others.

"Oh, that hasn't anything to do with it. A little man once met another man – "

"Was the other man small, too?" questioned Phil, seriously.

"Never mind if he was or not. A little man once met another man who had a big bulldog with him – "

"What was the color of the bulldog?" asked Dave.

"What color? See here, I – "

"When you tell a story, Shadow, give us the details, by all means. Was he white or black, red or yellow? Or maybe he was cream-color, or sky-pink, or – "

"He was – er – he was a regular bulldog color. Well, this man – "

"Sort of a brownish blue, with a dash of crimson and violet," suggested Phil.

"He was a regular common, everyday bulldog, only he was very big and very savage."

"Muzzled, of course," came from Roger. "Bulldogs always are."

"I saw one once that wasn't," added Buster Beggs.

"Some of 'em wear silver-plated muzzles," observed Sam.

"Do you mean to say this bulldog had a silver-plated muzzle?" demanded Dave, turning to Shadow.

"Who in creation said he had a muzzle?" cried the would-be story-teller. "I said – "

"I know you did, Shadow dear," said Luke Watson, who sat on a low stool with his banjo in his lap, tuning up. "Don't let them sidetrack you, or the bulldog either."

"What I want to know is this," said Phil, impressively. "Were those men white or black? That may have a very important bearing on the moral of the tale."

"See here, if you don't want to hear the story – " began Shadow, half angrily.

"We do! we do!" came from several at once.

"We are dying for you to finish," said Roger. "Now start up again. A small bulldog once came along, leading a big, fierce man – "

"That's not right," broke in Buster. "A small bulldog once met another bulldog leading a bulldog-colored man who – "

"Great Cæsar! That's as bad as the story of the canner," broke in Sam. "The canner can eat what he can and what he can't he can can, can't he?" And a laugh went up.

"I am going to tell this story if I die for it," cried Shadow. "A small man – remember that – met another man – remember that – with a big, fierce bulldog – remember that. The small man was afraid, but he didn't want to show it, so he said to the man with the bulldog: 'Is that dog a valuable animal?' 'Yes,' says the other man. 'Well, don't let him loose, then.' 'Why not?' 'Because I don't like dogs and I might hurt him.' Now there's the story, and you've got to swallow it whether you want to or not."

"Which puts me in mind of a song," said Luke Watson. "Sam, you know it, and can join in," and he began, accompanying himself on the banjo:

The song rang out clearly and sweetly, and when the verse was repeated the others joined in. But then came a knock at the door, and Jim Murphy, the big-hearted monitor, appeared.

"Hush! not so loud," he whispered, warningly. "Haskers is coming upstairs." And then the monitor disappeared again.

"I know what that means," said Luke, and rising he put his banjo away in a closet. "He stopped me before – he shan't have the chance to do it again."

The boys had scarcely settled themselves when Job Haskers appeared and gazed sharply around the dormitory. He found all the boys either writing or studying.

"Who is making that noise up here?" he demanded.

To this there was no reply.

"If I hear any more of it I shall punish everybody in this room," added the assistant teacher, and went out again, closing the door sharply after him.

"He's in an elegant humor to-night," was Phil's comment. "Must have swallowed some tacks, or a cup of vinegar."

"He ought to be taken down a peg," said Shadow, who had not forgotten how he had been kept in. "I wish we could do something like last term when we got Farmer Cadmore's ram up in his room and – "

"That's it," cried Buster. "Only it won't do to try the same joke twice. We'll have to think up something new. Polly, give us an idea."

He turned to Bertram Vane, who sat at a table, trying to write a composition. Bertram was very girlish in appearance, hence the nickname.

"Please don't bother me now," pleaded Polly. "I want to finish this composition."

"We want some idea to work off on Haskers. Open up your knowledge box, Polly," came from Phil.

"Really I can't," returned the girlish student. "I am writing a composition on Bats, and I want – "

"Baseball bats?" questioned Roger.

"No, no, living bats. Their habits are very interesting, and – "

"Polly has solved the question for us!" exclaimed Dave, and began to grin. "Just the thing! Polly, have you written much yet?"

"No, I hadn't the chance, with so much talking going on."

"Then you had better change your subject, for I don't think Mr. Haskers will want to read a composition on Bats to-morrow – not if the plan goes through."

"What is the plan?" came eagerly from several of the others.

"I just happened to remember that one of the boys over at Lapham's farm has a cage full of bats that he caught last week. He said he would sell them for fifty cents. Perhaps Mr. Haskers would be pleased to have them presented to him."

"Whoop! We'll get those bats!" shouted Phil.

"And put them in his room," added Shadow.

"And as we are modest we won't say where the gift came from," remarked Sam.

The plan was approved by everybody, even Polly Vane smiling faintly.

"Bats are very curious creatures," he observed. "They fly in people's hair, and they can make one very uncomfortable."

The crowd talked the matter over, and it was decided to get the bats at once, if it could be done. As Dave knew the boy who had the creatures he was commissioned to go after them, taking Shadow and Roger along.

It was still early, so the three lads had no difficulty in getting out of the academy building. They did not, however, dare to ask for permission to leave the grounds, and so stole across the campus to the gymnasium building, back of which they vaulted the boxwood hedge. Close at hand was a road leading through a patch of woods to the Lapham farm, whither they were bound.

"We have got to watch out, when we are coming back," said the senator's son, as they trudged along. "We don't want to get caught by Haskers, or Dr. Clay either."

"When we return one of us can go ahead and see if the coast is clear," answered Dave. "It will be all right unless somebody has been playing the spy on us."

"I didn't see anybody."

"Neither did I, but I believe they are going to enforce the rules more strictly than ever this season."

It was a cool, clear night, with hundreds of stars twinkling in the sky. They knew the road well, having traveled it many times before. They left the woods behind, and then came out on a small hill, below which was the farm for which they were bound.

"Perhaps the Laphams are in bed," said Shadow. "Some farmers go to bed mighty early."

"I know it, especially when the days are short," answered Dave. "Well, if the boy's asleep we'll have to wake him up. I guess he'll be glad enough to sell the bats. He said his mother didn't want him to have them around."

"I see a light in the house," said Roger, as they drew closer. "Have they a dog?"

"No."

"Then we can go right up to the door and knock."

The three students entered the lane leading up to the farmhouse. They saw a light flash up in one lower room and then appear in the next. While they were gazing it suddenly disappeared, leaving the farmhouse in total darkness.

"Evidently they are just going to bed," said Dave. "Hurry up, before they get upstairs."

He broke into a swift walk and the others did the same. They were close to the front porch of the house when they heard a shrill cry from within:

"John! John! Wake up! There is somebody in the house!"