A SCHEMING TRIO.
"It’s a mean shame!" declared Zeb Fletcher, trying to look at Uric
Scudder with his crooked eye, but seeming to glare at a fatigue-cap
hanging on the wrong hook.
"That’s right," nodded Scudder, rubbing his weak chin with an air of
indignation. "It’s favoritism, that’s what it is."
"Of the rankest sort," piped Jim Watson, in his weak, effeminate voice.
"And all because the fellow is Frank Merriwell’s brother."
"What can we do about it?" questioned Uric. "We ought to do something."
"We will do something!" declared Fletcher.
"What will we do?" questioned Scudder and Watson together.
"Kick!" exclaimed Zeb.
"I’m afraid that won’t do much good," said Watson. "He has a pull, and
he can do just about as he likes. The rest of us fellows have to attend
drill regularly, while Merriwell is excused from taking anything but
enough to make a showing. Now, I hate drilling as much as any fellow
can, yet I have to take my dose right along, and it’s mighty
disgusting."
"It is disgusting," agreed Fletcher. "And inspection makes a fellow
sick! Why, think of those stuck-up corporals calling a fellow down for
having a little dust on his old gun, or for not being just as prim and
starchy as they are! It’s too much! They want a chap to be all the time
brushing and cleaning and doing such foolishness."
"If I’ve got to do it, I’m going to raise a howl at the let-up on
Merriwell," said Scudder.
"Of course," piped Jim, "they’ll say it was because he’s on the eleven,
and he doesn’t have time enough to practise and drill, too. But we know
how he got onto the eleven, and——"
"We won’t stand for it!" cried Fletcher, jumping up and striding about
the room.
"Still," said Scudder, "no one has suggested what we can do."
This trio were three of young Merriwell’s most persistent and most
obnoxious plebe enemies. Two days after the football-game with White
Academy they had learned that Dick was excused from drill, being
required to appear only at inspection, and it made them very wroth. Then
they gathered in Fletcher’s room to talk it over.
Both Scudder and Watson were roommates of Merriwell, who, after the rule
of the academy, had been placed in a "cock-loft" room with three
companions. Of these companions, Hugh Douglass was the only one who had
shown an inclination of friendliness toward Dick.
Watson was a sly fellow, and he had very little to say in the presence
of Merriwell. At times he even pretended to be Dick’s friend; but Dick
was able to read him like an open book, with the result that Watson’s
hypocritical blandishments were taken for exactly what they were worth.
Scudder was also sneaky, and, on first entering Fardale, he had sought
to gain favor with the yearlings by playing spy for them. As a result,
he had been forced into an encounter with Dick, and had been soundly
thrashed. This made him the persistent and scheming foe of the
successful young plebe.
It made no difference to Uric that Merriwell had also thrashed Big Bob
Singleton, the champion boxer of the school, and that Singleton had
seemed to think all the more of Dick because of this feat. Uric desired
to "get even." And now he suddenly exclaimed:
"Wait! I have an idea."
"What is it?" questioned the others.
"You all know what an old duffer Professor Gooch is."
"Sure thing."
"I hear that he is raising a rumpus because too much athletics have been
introduced in the school."
"Yes; we’ve heard about that."
"He is down on football."
"Yes."
"Says it’s a brutal game, and should be abolished by the school."
"Yes."
"He’s the one for us to get at."
"How can we do it?" questioned Fletcher eagerly.
"Get up a petition, a round robin, or something of the sort, protesting
against Merriwell being excused from drill in order to take part in
football practise. What do you think of that?"
"All right!" piped Watson. "It’s a great idea!"
"Oh, I have a great head!" said Uric loftily.
"But can we get enough signers?" questioned Fletcher. "That is to be
considered."
"We can try hard. I know some fellows who will sign. If we can work old
Gooch up, he may make a big kick against this business."
"And if Merriwell is compelled to attend drill regularly, it’s certain
he can’t keep up in his classes, for, with drill and football, he won’t
have time for study. By Jove! Scudder, I believe it is possible that you
have struck on a scheme to force Merriwell to drop out of the eleven!
That will be a corker on him."
"And on his brother, too; for Frank Merriwell wants Dick to make a good
showing at football this fall."
"Who’ll draw up the document?"
"Let’s all have a hand in it. Bring out ink and paper and the things
needed, Fletch. Let’s get right down to work."
So, in a very few moments, these three youthful schemers were hard at
work framing a protest against Dick Merriwell being excused from drill
that he might practise on the football-field. They stated, as well as
they could, that it was not fair to others of the class to favor a
certain one in such a way, taking care, as they thought, to make their
language impressive without being offensive.
"There!" cried Scudder, when it was finished; "that ought to be a
regular bombshell!"
"If it doesn’t raise a rumpus, I’m no prophet," chuckled Fletcher.
"Merriwell will be angry," said Watson faintly.
"What the dickens do we care!" said Uric.
"His brother will be sore when he hears of it."
"His brother is nothing to us. Besides, it will be a good thing to show
Mr. Frank Merriwell that he does not run things here at Fardale."
"Who signs first?" questioned Jim timidly.
"Scudder," said Fletcher positively.
"No," said Uric, "you are the one to sign first, as you do not room with
Merriwell."
There was some argument over this matter, but Zeb seized the pen at last
and wrote his name with a flourish. Scudder followed, his handwriting
being rather hazy. Then Watson tried to get out of signing until more
names were added to the paper, but Fletcher and Scudder would not
listen, and he was compelled to be third on the list.
Then came an argument as to who should take the paper and seek more
signers. At last, in exasperation, Fletcher snatched it up, exclaiming:
"I’ll do it! I know a few fellows who will back us up, anyhow. We ought
to have the whole class; but some fellows will be afraid to put their
names to anything like this. All the same, there are several on the
football-team that played the regular eleven that first game who are
sore because they were not given a trial on the eleven, and we’ll get
them. Oh, there are more ways than one of making things warm for Mr.
Dick Merriwell!"
The trio broke up in great satisfaction.