THE BURNING EFFIGY
“That’s so!” exclaimed Tom, after a moment’s consideration. “I never
thought of that. It would be just like Sam. Oh, but what’s the use
worrying, anyhow? They’ll know, sooner or later, that we’ve escaped, and
anything that sneak Heller can tell them won’t do us any harm. Come on
to town.”
They headed into the storm, which seemed to become worse every minute,
with the wind whipping the stinging flakes into the faces of the lads,
who bent to the blast.
“I say!” cried Horace Gerth. “This is fierce!”
“The worst ever!” cried Jack.
“You can turn back, if you want to,” commented Tom, grimly. “Back to
bread and water.”
“Not for mine!” exclaimed Bert Wilson.
“Me for a hot meal in town,” declared Tom. “I’ll stand treat if any
fellows are short of cash.”
“Good!” cried several, as they trudged on.
It did not take very long to make the lads aware that they were in for
a bad time. The snow was drifted heavily and the road to town, never
good at the best, was almost impassable. As Tom had predicted, the
trolley cars had long since ceased running, and there was not a vehicle
track to be seen in the darkness, that was but faintly relieved by the
white snow.
“We’re going to have a hard pull of it,” commented Jack, as he
floundered to Tom’s side.
“That’s right. I wish we had had a better night for the escape, but we
had to take our chance.”
“Oh, of course. But it will be all right when we strike the town, and
get some hot coffee. How far is it, anyhow?”
“Oh, about two miles, I guess.”
“Two miles of this!” groaned Jack, as he bent his head to a particularly
fierce blast. “It’s heavy going.”
On and on the boys floundered. The first enthusiasm was wearing off,
and they became aware of the stinging cold and the fierce wind that cut
through even the heaviest coats. But they did not think of giving up.
After an hour of tramping, during which the storm seemed to be doing
its best to drive the boys back, and during which time several began to
murmur discontentedly, Jack suddenly exclaimed:
“I say, Tom, do you think we’re on the right road?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
A halt was called.
“I can’t make out anything,” declared Jack. “It’s as dark as a pocket,
and, even in day time, with this storm, we couldn’t see very far. My
private opinion is that we are lost.”
“Lost!”
“Yes, that is, not seriously lost,” went on Tom, with a trace of jollity
in his voice, “but just lost enough so that we can’t strike town
to-night.”
“Then what are we going to do?” asked George Abbot.
“There you go again--the eternal question!” complained Jack. “We’ll have
to go back, that’s all, I guess.”
“I don’t like to,” said Tom. “Let’s have another try for the road.
That row of trees over there looks like it.” He pointed to a row dimly
visible through the storm.
“Well, come on, one more try,” assented Jack, and though there was some
grumbling, none of Tom’s followers deserted him.
On they floundered through the snow, only to find, when they go to the
trees, that they were on the edge of a gully.
“But I know where we are, at any rate,” declared Bert. “I believe I can
find our way back to school from here, even if I can’t lead you to
town.”
“All right, then do it,” assented Tom wearily, for he was tired, and
rather chagrined at the failure of his plan. “But, one thing, fellows,
if we do go back we’ve got to make a showing.”
“How?” asked several voices.
“We’ll burn Skeel in effigy before we go in, and then they can do as
they like to us.”
“Hurray!”
“That’s what!”
“We’ll have a demonstration,” went on Tom, “and the whole school will
come out. We’ll take advantage of it to ask the fellows to contribute
something to our support. We’ll get more food and then--well, we’ll see
what happens in the morning.”
“We’re with you!” cried his chums.
They turned back, hardly any but what were glad to get the wind and
stinging flakes out of their faces, and, led by Bert, they were soon on
familiar ground.
“There’s Elmwood Hall,” said Jack to Tom, as they tramped on together
through the storm, when a dull mass loomed up before them. “What’s the
programme?”
“First to make the effigy.”
“How you going to do it?”
“Oh, I’ve had it planned for several days. In the barn I’ve got some
old clothes hidden, and a hat just like Skeel wears. All we’ve got to do
is to stuff the coat and pants with straw, tie a rope to it, hoist it on
the flag pole halyards and set fire to it. Then things will happen of
themselves.”
“I guess they will!” exclaimed Jack, admiringly.
It was quiet around the college when the Freshmen came back after their
partly unsuccessful escape. That their going had been discovered no one
doubted, but there seemed to be no one on the watch for them, and no
undue excitement in Opus Manor.
“Now for the effigy!” exclaimed Tom, as he told the others his plans.
“Jack and I, and a few of us are enough. The rest of you stand ready to
give our yell as the fire starts.”
It did not take long, in the barn, and with the light of several
lanterns which Tom had hidden, to make the effigy of Professor Skeel.
It did not look much like him, but the hat added the necessary
identification.
None of the school employees was about the stable, and the boys had easy
sailing.
“Now to string it up, and set fire to it!” cried Tom.
“How you going to burn it when it’s up in the air?” asked Bert.
“I’ll make a sort of fuse of twisted straw that will hang down, and I
can touch that off from the ground,” was the answer.
With their mates crowding around them, Tom and his chums brought out the
effigy. A rope had been provided by our hero, who seemed to think of
everything, and soon it was attached to the flag halyards and the image
was mounting the pole through the blinding storm and darkness.
“Here we go!” cried Tom, as, with some difficulty he struck a match and
set the straw fuse ablaze. “Now for the yell!”
It was given with a will as the fire slowly enveloped the effigy, and,
in response, there was a rush from the dormitories of the various
classes, for it was not late yet.
“Three hisses for Professor Skeel!” called someone, and it sounded as if
a den of snakes had been loosed.
Brighter and brighter grew the flames. The effigy was shown in bold
relief. All the college seemed pouring out, heedless of the storm.
A figure came running over the snow. A voice called out--a harsh voice:
“I demand that this outrage cease at once!”
It was Professor Skeel himself.