THE ESCAPE
Surprise, for a moment, held the boys dumb, and then a storm of protests
broke out.
“We’ll not stand it!”
“Let’s raid the pantry!”
“They’re trying to starve us into submission!”
“It’s a relic of the dark ages, boys!” cried Bert Wilson. “A prison diet
of bread and water.”
“Let’s break out, and go over to the Seniors’ place in Elmwood Hall!”
suggested Jack. “They’ll feed us.”
“That’s right!” cried several.
“Hold on, fellows,” called Tom.
At the sound of his calm voice the rush that had begun toward the door
of the dining room, was halted. A look of relief came over the face of
Monitor Blackford.
“Fellows!” said Tom, “this thing has come to a crisis. They’re trying
to break this strike by unfair means. I’ve no doubt that the suggestion
came from Skeel. Doctor Meredith never would have done it of his own
accord. Skeel has a bad influence over him. Now then, it’s up to us to
beat ’em at their own game!”
“But we can’t live on bread and water!” declared Ned Wilton. “At least
I won’t. I’m not used to such fare. I always want fruit in the morning,
and eggs.”
“So do lots of us,” said Tom quietly. “But we’re not going to get it
this morning, at least. Now then, let’s look at this thing quietly.
Let’s accept it. It can’t last forever. Sooner or later the story will
get out, and the college faculty will have to give in. Our cause is
right, and we’ll win. All we ask is civil treatment, as the old sailor
said after the whale chase, and blamed little of that. Here’s for a
hearty breakfast of bread and water.”
He made a move toward his place.
“But there’s not even butter on the bread!” cried Jack.
“Prisoners aren’t usually furnished with luxuries,” commented Tom,
quietly.
“Oh, say, I’m not going to stand for this!” burst out Bert Wilson. “I’m
going to leave, and wire home for permission to resign from Elmwood
Hall.”
He strode toward the front door, intending to see if he could get out,
but Mr. Blackford stood on guard, and he was not a small man.
“It’s no use, Mr. Wilson,” said the monitor, quietly. “The door is
locked, and you can’t go out unless you break out. And it’s a very
strong door,” he added, significantly.
With a gesture of impatience Bert turned toward a window. To his
surprise he noted that the usual fastenings had been replaced by new
ones, and, in addition, the casements were screwed down. Then, to the
astonishment of the boys, who had not noticed it before, they became
aware that bars of wood had been screwed in place across the outside of
the frames.
“By Jove! They have us boxed in, all right!” cried Tom, as his attention
was called to the precautions taken to keep the lads in Opus Manor.
“This is what they were doing last night when we were having our fun.
I’ve no doubt but that the spy came into the hall to see if we were
likely to stay up there eating, while they got in their fine work. Oh,
but we were chumps not to think of this!”
“No one would,” said Jack Fitch. “I say, though, I believe if we all go
together we can break out. We can handle Blackford!”
Tom shook his head. He did not intend to submit quietly, but he knew
better than to act before he had a good plan.
At that moment several of the men monitors from the other dormitories
were seen in the lower hall, and one or two were at a rear door.
“They’re prepared to meet force with force,” said Tom to his chums.
“Just wait a bit, and there may be something doing. Meanwhile, eat your
grub.”
“Hot grub this!” exclaimed Jack. “I wish we’d saved some from last
night. Any left, Tom?”
“Not a crumb. Never mind, this is good for a change,” and Tom proceeded
to munch the dry bread, and sip the water.
Monitor Blackford’s face showed relief. He had been prepared to carry
out the orders of the faculty with force, if necessary, but he rather
hoped he would not have to do so, for he knew how lads can fight when
they want to. Still he was glad they had submitted quietly. And he was
not altogether on the side of the faculty, either.
“I guess it won’t be for long, young gentlemen,” he said, as he passed
around the table. “I’m sure I’m very sorry to have to do it, but I’m a
poor man, and my living----”
“That’s all right,” interrupted Tom good-naturedly. “We’re not blaming
you. And, as you say, it won’t be for long.”
“Then you’re going to give in?” asked the monitor eagerly.
“Not much!” exclaimed Tom. “The faculty is, and we’ll make Skeel beg our
pardons. Then we’ll have a roast turkey feast on Merry.”
“I’m afraid you never will,” spoke the monitor. “The professor is very
determined. I expect he’ll be over before long.”
“We’ll be ready for him,” said Tom grimly.
Once they had made up their minds to accept the situation the boys made
merry over the meager breakfast.
“Anyhow, we can cut all lectures!” exulted several who were not fond of
study.
“And we’ll have to pull our belts in a few holes if this sort of grub
keeps up long,” commented Jack.
“Yes, a fine sort of strike this is!” sneered Sam Heller. “I never
agreed to starve, Tom Fairfield.” He glared at his rival.
“You can starve with the rest of us,” spoke our hero, grimly. “Besides,
you can live a long time on bread and water. I forget the exact figures,
but I think it is something over a month.”
“A month!” cried Jack. “I’ll never last that long.”
“Neither will the strike,” answered Tom, coolly. “I have something up my
sleeve.”
“What is it?” clamored half a dozen.
“I’ll tell you later. Now to get what amusement we can. Come on up to my
room, and we’ll talk it over.”
They did talk it over, from all standpoints, but they could not agree on
what was best to be done. It was a cold, blowy, blustery day outside,
the storm being not far short of a blizzard.
The dormitory was warm, but soon the healthy appetites of the lads
asserted themselves, and they felt the lack of their usual good
breakfast. Still, save for Sam Heller, no one thought of giving in. All
stuck by Tom.
During the morning, groups of students from other dormitories, the
Senior, Junior and Sophomore, came past Opus Manor, and cruelly made
signs of eating, for of course the story of the imprisonment of the
Freshman class was known all through the college.
“Say, I’ve got an idea!” exclaimed Jack, as he saw some of his friends
in the upper classes standing under his window in an angle of the
building. “Why can’t they smuggle us something to eat? We can let down a
basket or a box, and haul it up.”
“That’s the stuff!” cried Bert Wilson. “Let’s drop ’em a note.”
One was written and tossed out to Bruce Bennington and some friendly
Seniors. They nodded assent as they read it, and hurried off.
“Now to make a basket of some sort!” exclaimed Jack.
“Take our fishing creels,” suggested Tom, who seemed to be busily
engaged in thinking out something. Accordingly the fishing baskets were
tied to strings, which the boys collected from many pockets, and were
made ready to be lowered for food.
In due time, under cover of the storm, which had grown so bad that the
swirling flakes hid objects ten feet away, the Seniors returned with
food which they had somehow obtained. There were also bottles of cold
coffee and soft drinks.
“This is great!” cried Jack, as he hauled up the creels, several times,
well laden. “There isn’t going to be a feast, but it’s something.”
“And it has given me the idea I wanted!” cried Tom.
“What is it?” demanded several.
“We’ll escape from the second story windows to-night! We can make ropes
of the bed clothes, in real story-book fashion, lower ourselves down,
and hie into town. We’ll put up at some hotel or boarding houses there,
and the school can get along without us until they recognize our rights.”
“Good!” came in an enthusiastic chorus. “Let’s start right away,” added
Jack.
“No, not until after dark,” advised Tom. “We will be caught if we go
before.”
The sandwiches and other things which the Seniors had provided made a
welcome addition to the slim dinner. Professor Skeel came in as the boys
were about to arise from the table, probably to gloat over them. He was
received with a storm of hisses.
“Stop that, instantly!” he cried, his face pale with anger.
“Keep it up,” ordered Tom, and keep it up the boys did, until the
discomfited instructor had to withdraw, vowing vengeance on the lads
whom even a diet of bread and water, and the humiliation of being made
prisoners, could not subdue.
“But I’ll break their spirit yet!” said the professor, grimly.
The preparations for the escape went on. Several ropes were made from
torn sheets and light blankets, and fastened to heavy objects as
anchors, in various room whence the lads were to take French leave.
Several were to drop from Tom’s window.
The storm grew worse, and the boys put on their heaviest garments. Night
approached, the bread and water supper was served, and Mr. Blackford
remarked to his wife:
“I don’t see what makes the boys so cheerful.”
“Maybe they are up to some mischief,” she suggested.
“How could they be?” he asked. “They can’t get out to get anything to
eat, for the doors and windows are all fastened.”
“Well, you never can tell what boys are going to do,” she said. “I’d be
on the watch.”
“I will,” agreed her husband, and he and the other monitors looked well
to the fastening of the doors and casements.
“All ready now, boys?” asked Tom, as it grew darker.
“All ready,” answered Jack. “I don’t believe they can see us now.”
“Go easy,” advised Tom. “Hold on tight going down, and don’t slip.
One at a time, and we’ll meet at the twin oaks on the far edge of the
campus, and tramp into town. The car line is blocked, I guess, with all
this snow.”
One by one the boys slid down the improvised ropes, going from rooms
where they could drop to the ground unobserved from any of the lower
windows.
“Are we all here?” asked Tom, when the escape was finally concluded, and
the crowd of students had assembled under the oak trees, the few brown
leaves of which rustled in the wintry blast.
“I guess so,” answered Jack. “But I didn’t see Sam Heller.”
“I saw him slide down a rope from Pete Black’s room,” remarked Bert
Wilson, “and then I noticed that he sneaked off by himself.”
“Let him go,” suggested Tom. “We’re better off without him.”
“Unless he’s going to squeal on us,” came from Jack, suddenly.