THE FUN OF A NIGHT
As my old readers know, Oak Hall was a large structure of brick and
stone, built in the shape of a broad cross, with wide hallways running
from north to south and east to west. All of the classrooms were on
the ground floor, as were also the dining hall and kitchen, and the
head master's private office. On the second floor were the majority of
the dormitories, furnished to hold four, six, and eight pupils each.
The school was surrounded by a wide campus, running down to the Leming
River, where was located a good-sized boathouse. Some distance away
from the river was a neat gymnasium, and, to the rear of the school,
were commodious stables and sheds. At the four corners of the campus
grew great clumps of giant oaks, and two oaks stood like sentinels on
either side of the gateway--thus giving the Hall its name.
As Dave leaped to the piazza of the school he was met by Sam Day,
another of his old chums, who gave his hand a squeeze that made him
wince. Close by was Chip Macklin, once the toady of Gus Plum, but now
"quite a decent sort," as most of the lads would say. Further in the
rear was Gus Plum, looking pale and troubled. Evidently something was
wrong with him, as Shadow had intimated.
"Sorry I couldn't get down to the depot," said Sam. "But I had some
examples in algebra to do and they kept me until after the carryall had
left."
There was more handshaking, and Dave did not forget Macklin or Gus
Plum. When he took the hand of the former bully he found it icy cold
and he noticed that it trembled considerably.
"How are you, Gus?" he said, pleasantly.
"Oh, I'm fair," was the hesitating answer. "I--I am glad to see you
back, and doubly glad to know you found your father."
"And sister, Gus; don't forget that."
"Yes, and your sister." And then Gus Plum let Dave's hand fall and
stepped back into the crowd and vanished. Dave saw that he had
something on his mind, and he wondered more than ever what Shadow might
have to tell him.
Soon Doctor Clay appeared, a man well along in years, with gray,
penetrating eyes and a face that could be either kindly or stern as the
occasion demanded.
"As the boys say, it is all very wonderful, and I am rejoiced for your
sake, Porter," he said. "Your trip to Norway certainly turned out well,
and you need not begrudge the time lost from school. Now, with your
mind free, you can go at your studies with vigor, and such a bright
pupil as you ought to be able to make up all the ground lost."
"I intend to try my best, sir," answered Dave.
The only lad at Oak Hall who did not seem to enjoy Dave's reappearance
was Nat Poole. The dudish youth from Crumville, whose father had, in
times past, caused old Caspar Potts so much trouble, kept himself
aloof, and when he met Dave in a hallway he turned his head the other
way and pretended not to notice.
"Nat Poole certainly feels sore," said Dave to Ben Basswood, his old
friend from home, when Ben came to meet him, having been kept in a
classroom by Job Haskers.
"Yes, he is sore on everybody," answered Ben. "Well, he is having a
hard time of it, seems to me. First Chip Macklin cut him, and then Gus
Plum. Then he got mixed up with Nick Jasniff, and Jasniff had to run
away. Then he and Link Merwell became chums, and you know what happened
to both. Now Merwell is away and Nat is about left to himself. He is
a bigger dude than ever, and spends a lot of money that the doctor
doesn't know anything about, and yet he can't make himself popular."
"Well, I'm glad money doesn't count at Oak Hall, Ben."
"I know you feel that way, Dave, and it does you credit. I guess now
you are about as rich as anybody, and if money did the trick----"
"I want to stand on my merits, not on my pocketbook. Perhaps Nat would
make friends if he wasn't forever showing off and telling how wealthy
his father is."
"I believe you there."
"By the way, Ben, do you know anything about Gus Plum? There seems to
be a big change in him."
"There is a change, but I can't tell you what it is. Shadow Hamilton
knows. He and Plum came home late one night, both having been to
Oakdale, and Shadow was greatly excited and greatly worried. Some of
us fellows wanted to know what it was about, but Shadow refused to say
a word, excepting that he was going to let you know some time, because
you appeared to have some influence over Gus."
Ben's words surprised Dave, coming so shortly after what Shadow himself
had said. He was on the point of asking Ben some more questions, but
reconsidered the matter and said nothing. He could wait until such a
time as Shadow felt in the humor to unburden his mind.
Dave and his chums roomed in dormitories Nos. 11 and 12, two large and
well-lighted apartments, with a connecting door between. Not far away
was dormitory No. 13, which was now occupied by Nat Poole and some
others, including Link Merwell when that individual was at Oak Hall.
One bed was vacant, that which Nick Jasniff had left so hurriedly.
In a quiet way the news was spread that Dave and his chums had provided
some good things for a feast, and that night about twenty boys gathered
in No. 11 and No. 12 to celebrate "the return of our leader," as Luke
Watson expressed it. Luke was on hand with his banjo and his guitar, to
add a little music if wanted.
"Say, boys, we couldn't have chosen a better time for this sort of
thing than to-night," announced Sam Day. "Haskers has gone to town
and Mr. Dale is paying a visit to a neighbor; I heard the doctor tell
Mr. Dale he was tired and was going to bed early, and best of all Jim
Murphy says he won't hear a thing, provided we set out a big piece of
mince pie for him." Murphy was monitor of the halls.
"Good for Jim!" cried Dave. "I'll cut that piece of pie myself," and he
did, and placed it where he felt certain that the monitor would find it.
The boys were allowed to do as they pleased until half-past nine, and
they sang songs and cracked jokes innumerable. But then the monitor
stuck his head in at the door.
"Got to be a little quiet from now on," he said, in a hoarse whisper
and with a broad grin on his face. "I'm awfully deaf to-night, but the
doctor will wake up if there's too much racket."
"Did you get the pie?" questioned Dave.
"Not yet, and I'll take it now, if you don't mind."
"Jim, do you mean to say you didn't get that pie?" demanded Dave.
"Oh, he's fooling," interrupted Phil. "He wants a second piece."
"That's it," came from Shadow. "Puts me in mind of a story about a boy
who----"
"Never mind the story now, Shadow," interrupted Dave. "Tell me
honestly, Jim, whether you got the pie or not? Of course you can have
another piece, or some chicken salad----"
"I didn't get any pie,--or anything else," answered the monitor.
"I put it on the bottom of the stand in the upper hallway."
"Nothing there when I went to look."
"Then somebody took it on the sly," said Roger. "For I was with Dave
when he put it there. Anybody in these rooms guilty?" And he gazed
around sternly.
All of the boys shook their heads. Then of a sudden a delicate youth
who looked like a girl arose in astonishment and held up his hands.
"Well, I declare!" he lisped.
"What now, Polly?" asked Phil.
"I wonder if it is really possible," went on Bertram Vane.
"What possible?" questioned Dave.
"Why, when I was coming through the hall a while ago I almost ran into
Nat Poole. He had something in one hand, under his handkerchief, and as
I passed him I really thought I smelt mince pie!"
"Nat Poole!" cried several.
"Oh, the sneak!" burst out Roger. "He must have been watching Dave.
Maybe he heard us promise Murphy the pie."
"Bad luck to him if he stole what was coming to me," muttered the
monitor. "I hope the pie choked him."
"If Nat Poole took the pie we'll fix him for it," said Dave. "Just you
leave it to me." Then he got another portion of the dainty and handed
it to the monitor, who disappeared immediately.
"What will you do?" questioned Roger.
"Since Nat has had some pie I think I'll treat him to some chicken
salad," was the reply. "Nothing like being generous, you know."
"Why, Dave, you don't mean you are going to let Nat Poole have any of
this nice salad!" cried Phil. "I'd see him in Guinea first!"
"He shall have some--after it has been properly doctored."
"Eh? Oh, I see," and the shipowner's son began to grin. "All right
then. But doctor it good."
"I shall make no mistake about that," returned Dave.
While Shadow was telling a story of a little boy who had fallen down a
well and wanted somebody to "put the staircase down" so he could climb
up, Dave went to a small medicine closet which he had purchased during
his previous term at Oak Hall. From this he got various bottles and
powders and began to "doctor" a nice portion of the chicken salad.
"Say, Dave, that won't hurt anybody, will it?" asked Ben, who saw the
movement.
"It may hurt Nat Poole, Ben."
"Oh, you don't want to injure him."
"This won't do any harm. I am going to give him what Professor Potts
called green peppers. Once, when he was particularly talkative, he
related how he had played the joke on a fellow-student at college. It
won't injure Nat Poole, but if he eats this salad there will surely be
fun, I can promise you that."
"How are you going to get it to him?"
"Take it to him myself."
"You! He'll be suspicious at once and won't touch it."
"Perhaps not--we'll wait and see."
When the feast was practically at an end, Dave put the doctored salad
in a dessert dish, topping it with some that was sweet and good. On all
he laid some fancy crackers which one of the boys had contributed.
"Now, here is where I try the trick," he said, and put on a sweater,
leaving the upper portion partly over his face. Then, leaving his
dormitory, he tiptoed his way to No. 13 and pushed open the door softly.
As he had surmised, Nat Poole had gone to bed and had just fallen
asleep. Going noiselessly to his side, Dave bent over him and whispered
into his ear:
"Here, Nat, is something I stole for you from that crowd that was
having the feast. Eat it up and don't tell the other fellows."
"Eh, what? The feast?" stammered Nat, and took the plate in his hand.
"Who are you?"
"Hush!" whispered Dave, warningly. "Don't wake the others. I stole it
for you. Eat it up. I'll tell you how I did it in the morning. It's a
joke on Dave Porter!" And then Dave glided away from the bed and out of
the room like a ghost, shutting the door noiselessly after him.
Half asleep, Nat Poole was completely bewildered by what he heard. In
the semi-darkness he could not imagine who had brought the dish full
of stuff. But he remembered the words, "eat it up" and "don't tell the
other fellows" and "a joke on Dave Porter." That was enough for Nat.
He sat up, looked at the fancy crackers and the salad, and smacked his
lips.
"Must have been one of our old crowd," he mused. "Maybe Shingle or
Remney. Well, it's a joke on Dave Porter right enough, and better than
taking that pie he left for Murphy." And then he began to munch the
crackers and eat the salad, using a tiny fork Dave had thoughtfully
provided. He liked chicken salad very much, and this seemed
particularly good, although at times it had a bitter flavor for which
he could not account.
Peering through the keyhole of the door, Dave saw his intended victim
make way with the salad. Then he ran back to his dormitory.
"It's all right," he said. "Now all of you undress and go to bed,--and
watch for what comes!"