WINDING UP THE SCHOOL TERM
"I must say, I don't feel much like fun to-night," observed Dave, as he
hurried up the stairs to dormitory No. 12. "I am anxious to get started
on that trip to the Pacific."
"Oh, that will hold for one day longer," said Ben. "I wish I was going,
too. Roger, have you got word yet?"
"No, but I expect a letter to-morrow. If it doesn't come, I'll have to
wait till I get home."
Dave was in advance and was the first to throw open the dormitory door.
As he did so, a powerful smell of onions greeted him.
"Great Caesar!" he ejaculated. "Smells like an onion factory up here.
Somebody must have been eating a dozen or two. Open the window, Phil,
while I make a light."
"Hello, what's this!" spluttered Ben, and fell headlong over something.
"A decayed cabbage! Who put that on the floor?"
"Look out, everybody!" shouted Roger. "I just stepped on something soft.
Phew! Some decayed sweet potatoes!"
By this time Dave made a light, and all of the boys who had come up
gazed around the dormitory. Then a cry of amazement and anger arose.
"This is a rough-house, and no mistake!"
"Somebody has been heaving decayed vegetables all over the room!"
"Yes, and ancient eggs, too! This is an outrage!"
"Here is a rotten cabbage in my trunk!" called out Roger. He held the
object at arm's length. "I'd like to soak the fellow who did it!" he
added, savagely.
With caution, all made an investigation. They found their clothing and
other belongings disarranged, and decayed vegetables, stale eggs, and
sour milk were everywhere in evidence. It was a mess bad enough to make
them weep.
"We ought to report this," was Phil's comment. "I don't mind real fun,
but this is going too far."
"This stuff must have come from the cellar," put in Buster Beggs. "I
heard the head cook telling Pop Swingly that the place must be cleaned
out, or he would report it to the doctor. Swingly said he didn't know
the bad stuff was there."
"Well, Swingly didn't put the stuff here," put in Dave. "It's the work
of some of the other fellows."
"I know where the janitor is!" cried Ben. "Shall I go down and question
him? Maybe he can give us a pointer."
"Yes, go ahead," said Dave.
"And I'll go along," added the senator's son, and a moment later the two
boys were off.
While the pair were gone, the others surveyed the damage done. The most
of the decayed vegetables were swept into a corner, and then the boys
did what they could toward straightening out their things.
"Here's a stale egg in my hat-box!" groaned Sam. "I'd like to throw it
at some fellow's head!"
Dave had found his trunk open, and was searching the box with care.
Suddenly he gave a loud cry:
"It's gone! It's gone!"
"What's gone?" queried Phil.
"The photograph! I had it among my books and papers, and the whole bunch
is missing!"
"You mean the photo of the man who looks like you?" asked Sam, quickly.
"Yes." Dave gave a groan that came straight from his heart. "Oh, boys, I
must get that back! I can't afford to lose it! I must get it back! It is
worth more to me than anything in the world!" He was so agitated that he
could scarcely control himself.
"Let us hunt for the picture," came from Buster Beggs, who knew about
the photograph, and all started a search, which lasted until Ben and
Roger returned.
"We've discovered the chaps who are responsible," said Ben, in triumph.
"They are Gus Plum and Nat Poole," asserted the senator's son. "Pop
Swingly was throwing this stuff away in a hole back of the campus, when
Plum and Poole came up. He heard them talking about playing a trick, but
he didn't think they'd lower themselves by touching the mess. I suppose
they thought that they were doing something quite smart."
"Dave's photo is gone," said Phil. "We have been hunting for it
everywhere."
"You don't say! Dave, that is too bad."
"We ought to make Plum and Poole clean up this mess," came from Buster.
"Let us try to capture them."
The suggestion met with instant approval, and the boys started to locate
the bully and his crony. Plum and Poole were still below, but Shadow
Hamilton announced that they were preparing to come up by a side stairs.
"We must get them, sure!" cried Dave. "I want that picture back, if
nothing else."
Soon one boy, who was acting as a spy, announced the coming of Plum and
Poole. The pair were allowed to reach the door of their dormitory, when
they were pounced on from behind and made prisoners. They tried to
escape, but the crowd was too many for them, and towels pulled down over
their mouths kept them from raising an outcry.
"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered Nat Poole, when he found
himself and his crony in dormitory No. 12, and with the door closed and
locked.
"It means, in the first place, that I want my things back," said Dave,
"and especially a photograph that was between my books."
"Humph! that photo is burned up," growled Gus Plum.
"Gus Plum!" gasped Dave. He could say no more.
"Plum, do you mean to say you burned that picture up?" demanded Roger.
"If you did, you ought to be tarred and feathered for it!"
"He wouldn't dare to do it!" came boldly from Phil. "If he did, I know
what Dave will do--have him sent to jail for it."
"Bah! You can't send me to jail for a little fun," blustered the bully.
"That is no fun, Plum," put in Ben. "That photo was of great importance.
If you burned it up, you will surely suffer."
"Is it really burned or not?" muttered Dave, hoarsely. "Answer me,
you--you cur!" and he caught the bully by the throat.
"Le-let go--don't strangle me! N-no--it's all right. I was only
fooling."
"Then, where is it?"
"In the--the closet--on the top shelf."
Dave dropped his hold and ran to the closet pointed out. True enough, on
the top shelf, in a back corner, were the books, with the precious
photograph between them. Dave lost no time in placing the picture in an
inside pocket.
"You're a fine fellow, not to take a bit of fun without getting mad,"
grumbled Gus Plum. He did not dare to say too much in such a crowd.
"So you call this fun?" remarked Phil, sarcastically. "Fun! to play the
scavenger and bring this stuff up here? Well, I must say, I don't like
your preference for a calling."
"Look here, you needn't call us scavengers!" howled Nat Poole. "I am a
gentleman, I am!"
"Well, you brought this up here, you and Plum."
"It was only a--re--a joke. Everybody has got to put up with jokes
to-night."
"Well, you are going to put up with a little hard work," came from
Roger.
"Work?"
"Yes. You and Plum are going to clean up the muss and put this room in
apple-pie order."
"Huh! I see myself doing it!" stormed the aristocratic youth.
"You will do it," observed Ben. "Isn't that so, fellows?"
There was a chorus of approvals.
"So take off your coats and get to work," said Dave, who felt easier,
now that he had the picture back. "I guess you both need a little
exercise."
"I'll be hanged if I do a stroke!" roared Gus Plum.
Hardly had he spoken, when Ben caught up a pitcher of ice-water and held
it over the bully's head.
"Take your choice, Plum!" he cried, and allowed a little of the
ice-water to trickle down the bully's backbone. There was a roar of
fright and a shiver.
"Oh! Don't do that! Do you want to freeze me to death!"
"Now, Poole, maybe you want some," added Ben, advancing. Poole tried to
retreat, stumbled, and sat down heavily on a decayed cabbage, which
squashed beneath him. He set up a roar.
"Now see what you've done, Ben Basswood! My best gray suit, too! I'll
fix you for this!"
"Both of you must get to work!" declared Dave. "We'll give you two
minutes in which to get started. If you don't start----"
"We'll roll you in the decayed vegetables and kick you out," finished
Buster Beggs. With the term so nearly ended, he was growing reckless.
"I'll play timekeeper," and he drew out his watch.
Plum and Poole begged and protested, but all to no purpose, and, badly
scared, took off their coats and cuffs, rolled up their sleeves, and
began to clean up the muss they had made. While this was under way, the
other boys of the dormitory came up and viewed the scene with amazement
and satisfaction.
At last the dirty job was at an end, at least so far as Plum and Poole
could go. They had worked hard and were bathed in perspiration, and
their hands were in anything but a clean condition. Both were "boiling
mad," but neither dared to say a word, for fear the others would make
them do more.
"Now you have learned your trade," said Phil, finally, "you can graduate
as full-fledged scavengers. When you go out, don't fail to place that
bag of nasty stuff in a corner of your own room. The smell will give you
both pleasant dreams."
"Phil Lawrence----" began the bully.
"Just wait till I----" came from Nat Poole.
"Silence!" cried Dave. "Not a word, or you'll be sorry. Take up the bag.
Now, march!"
The door was flung open, and with the bag of messy stuff between them,
Plum and Poole marched forth into the corridor and to the stairs leading
to the back yard. The boys of dormitory No. 12 watched them out of
sight, then returned to their room.
"I'll wager they are the maddest boys in the Hall," said Dave, when the
door had been locked once more.
"Will they come back, do you think?" questioned Roger.
"I don't think so. But we can be on our guard."
They remained on guard for half an hour, but Plum and Poole did not
reappear. They had had enough of their so-called fun, and they sneaked
out of sight at the first opportunity.
But, without this, there was fun galore that night in the various
dormitories. Two crowds of boys held feasts, to which even the monitors
were invited, and dormitories Nos. 3 and 4 got into a pillow fight, in
the midst of which Job Haskers appeared. The teacher was knocked over by
a pillow, and then some other pillows were piled on top of him. After
that he was hustled out of the room, and, completely bewildered, he
rolled down the broad stairs, bumping on every step. Then Pop Swingly
came up, followed by "Horsehair," the carriage driver, to quell the
disturbance, and each received a pitcher of ice-water over his head,
which made both beat a hasty retreat. But by one o'clock the school
quieted down, and all of the pupils went to sleep as if nothing out of
the ordinary had occurred.