ALMOST CAUGHT
Frank and Andy were preparing for bed. It was a bit early, but they
were tired with their day's travel. There was no necessity for study,
and, as the younger lad had said, it would be hard to read by the poor
gas light. So there was nothing to do but to turn in.
"But I know what I'm going to do, if the room we are assigned to
permanently has such poor light as this," said Frank as he took off his
coat.
"What?" inquired Andy, pausing in the midst of the same operation.
"Get some new gas tips that will give some illumination. That's all it
needs. The pipes are big enough, all it needs is new tips. I should
think Dr. Doolittle would think of that."
"Oh, he's probably thinking of a Greek root or how to translate some
Hindoo phrase into modern Dutch."
"I shouldn't wonder."
"Oh, but say, don't you wish you were back at Harbor View?" asked
Andy. "Think of the good times we had! Of the jokes I played on Chet
Sedley! Of how we went after the whale, yes, and even being shut up
in the cave, with the rising tide, by that Shallock fellow wasn't so
bad--after we got out. Say, don't you wish you were back there, Frank?"
"No, I don't. This place is pretty tough, but I'm going to make myself
like it, and stick."
"Oh, I guess you won't have to try to like it very hard."
"What do you mean?" and the older lad gazed at his brother in some
astonishment.
"Oh, come off now! Don't pretend ignorance. I know why you want to stay
all right!"
"Why?"
"Because that girl--the one we met on the boat, Gertrude Morton--lives
near here. You're thinking you'll meet her again. I saw you giving
her the friendly look as she got off the boat. That's why you want to
linger here, even if the school is punk."
Frank did not answer. He made a jump for the bed, grabbed up a pillow
and let it fly at his brother with such good aim that it struck Andy
full in the face, and smothered the good-natured "joshing" he was
keeping up against Frank.
"There!" cried the older lad gaily. "If you want another just say so!"
"Two can play at this game!" exclaimed Andy with a laugh, as he sent
back the pillow with certain aim. "How's that? A strike all right, I
guess."
"And here's another!" exclaimed Frank, as a second pillow went hurtling
across the room.
The harmless fight was on in earnest now and the pillows went back and
forth fast and furiously. There were only four of the soft headrests,
but the brothers kept them constantly in use and the air seemed full of
the white things as they were exchanged.
The brothers circled about the room, seeking for an advantage. Once
Frank ducked and the pillow Andy had thrown went sailing over his head,
striking a window, the shade of which was drawn down. In an instant the
shade went whizzing to the top of the roller.
"Wow! Nothing the matter with the spring in that curtain!" exclaimed
Frank.
"Pull it down! Quick!" called Andy, ceasing hostilities for a moment.
"Old Thorny Callum, or some of the other profs may spot us from outside
and make a row. Pull it down."
Frank obliged and the battle was renewed. It went on for several
seconds, when Frank made a miscalculation and his pillow went into the
gas jet.
Fortunately the cloth did not take fire, but the gas was blown out and
the room was plunged in sudden darkness.
"Hurry up! Shut off the gas or we'll fill the place with it!" cried
Frank.
"I'll light it," said Andy, fumbling about in the darkness for a match.
"No, shut it off first. There may be an explosion."
Thereupon Andy stumbled about in the blackness, barking his shins on a
chair and stubbing his toe over a big dictionary that had fallen from
the table. But finally the gas was turned off.
Frank then opened a window and let out the choking fumes, for, by
reason of Andy's delay, considerable of the vapor had escaped. They
lighted the jet a few minutes later.
Andy was about to resume the pillow fight, for he was a fun-loving lad
and seldom wanted to stop any sport once it was started. He was just
about to launch one of the soft missiles at his brother when there came
a sharp but gentle tap on the door.
"Who's there?" asked Frank.
"It's me--Jack Sanderson," was the whispered reply. "What in the name
of the Seven Sacred Snakes are you fellows up to? Old Callum is on the
warpath. He's sneaking down from his room to catch you. Hop into bed,
even if you aren't undressed. I just slipped down the back way to warn
you. Cheese it, here he comes! I'll see you later."
The brothers heard the rapid retreat of shoeless feet.
"Gee horse!" exclaimed Andy. "He sure has it in for us. If he catches
us--"
"Don't let him!" exclaimed Frank in a whisper. "Slip your night shirt
on over your clothes and hop in bed. I'll douse the glim."
No sooner had this been done, and the brothers had only time to
pull the bed clothes up over themselves when there came a loud and
imperative summons on their door.
A hearty snore issued from Frank. It was a good imitation. Once more
the knock, followed by another snore.
"Go ahead! Help me out!" whispered the older lad to his brother. "Can't
you snore too?"
Andy did so. The knock was repeated for the third time and a gruff
voice followed, saying:
"Come! Come, young gentlemen. I know you are not asleep. You are up to
some mischief, I'm sure. I demand to be admitted at once!"
"Who's there?" asked Frank, simulating a sleepy yawn. "Is any one
knocking?"
"Is anyone knocking? I should say there was!" came the rasping voice of
Professor Callum. "Let me in instantly. Such conduct is disgraceful.
Let me in."
"Come in," called Andy, also yawning. "The door is not locked. But who
is it?"
"It is I--Professor Callum," was the reply as the door opened. There
was a gasp of surprise from the crabbed instructor as he encountered
intense darkness. He had expected to catch the boys with the gas
lighted.
He struck a match, and saw two apparently innocent faces gazing at him
in mild wonder from the beds. The professor's jaw dropped in chagrin.
"Why--er--that is--I heard noises coming from this room," he said
severely. "It is against the rules. But you--you are in bed."
"Yes, Professor," spoke Frank calmly. "We retired early as we were
weary. Ahem!"
"But I am sure I heard some noise. What was it?"
"I'm afraid I snore rather loudly when I sleep," said Frank innocently,
"and my brother is also addicted to that habit, are you not, Andy?" He
gazed innocently at his brother.
"Yes, I am sorry to say that I am," spoke Andy.
"Ouch! My!" suddenly exclaimed the professor. The room was plunged in
darkness again, for the match had burned the teacher's fingers and he
had dropped it.
"Did you say anything, Professor?" asked Frank gently.
Andy had to stuff the end of the sheet in his mouth to prevent his
laughter from being heard.
"I thought I heard you say something," went on Frank.
"Humph! Let there be no more of this levity!" snarled Mr. Callum. He
turned and hastily left the room, not taking the trouble to light
any more matches to investigate further. The brothers could hear him
tramping down the corridor.
"Get up and shut the door, then light the gas again," said Frank. "But
turn it low, Andy."
His brother obeyed. Then both began to pick up the pillows which were
still scattered about the room. Fortunately in the flickering light
of his match Professor Callum had not observed them, or the snores of
Frank and his brother would not have availed them. As it was they had
had a narrow escape.
"Want to have another go at it?" asked Andy, as he began to undress in
earnest now.
"No, I guess we've had enough for one night. I say though--"
Frank paused with the sentence unfinished for there came another knock
at the door. The two brothers looked at each other with startled faces.
Who could it be this time?