MR. DUNCASTER AGAIN
"I say, Dick, are you in?"
It was a cautious voice making this inquiry after a gentle knock at the
door of the room where our hero and Paul Drew lived when they were not
playing football, drilling with the other cadets, or reciting their
lessons.
"Who is it?" whispered Dick to his chum.
"Blessed if I know. Sounds like Beeby, and again it might be Teddy.
Going to let him in?"
"Sure. No one's around this early and it's safe. Unbolt the door. I've
done enough boning to-night."
It was shortly after Dick had received the letter from his father, in
which the disquieting news was given, and the two cadets were preparing
their lessons for the morrow.
But as this was ever-wearying work, to be disposed of as quickly as
possible in case any pleasure was available, the two friends welcomed
the disturbing knock.
"Come on in," invited our hero as his chum opened the portal. "What's
up, anyhow."
"Something doing," replied Innis Beeby cheerfully as he slid inside the
room, and carefully closed the door. "Are you fellows ready for a little
fun?"
"It depends on what kind," answered Dick. "Are you going to run one of
the six-pounders up on the chapel steps, or turn the flag upside down?"
"Neither. But did you know that Porter and Weston were giving a little
spread to-night?"
"A spread? No! And those fellows only freshmen of the freshest kind,"
answered Paul. "Say, we ought to take 'em down a peg."
"Exactly what I think," agreed Beeby. "I came over to see if you didn't
want to join in the fun. We're going to invade their spread, take Porter
and Weston captive, and carry them into town."
"Then what?" inquired Paul eagerly. He was always ready for fun.
"We'll make them do 'sentry-go' in front of the town jail. Have them
march up and down with wooden guns on their shoulders. Maybe they won't
feel sick!"
"But will they do it?" asked Paul.
"They'll have to if we make a freshman matter of it. Otherwise they'll
go to Coventry for the rest of the term. Oh, they'll do it all right.
How about it, Dick?"
Now our hero had shown a curious lack of interest in the matter of
hazing Porter and Weston, from the time their names were mentioned. He
seemed to cool down all at once, though he had always done his share
heretofore in making the first year men feel their inferior positions.
"Well?" asked Innis Beeby, after a pause, as he glanced at the young
millionaire.
"Oh, what's the use?" inquired Dick. "Can't we let 'em alone? It might
make trouble in the football team if we put them through the third
degree too strong."
"Bosh!" cried Innis. "They need it. Besides, if any fellows take offense
at a little hazing they're not fit to play on the football team. Eh,
Paul?"
"Sure not."
But Dick was thinking what effect his participation in the affair would
have, especially when he still wanted to get some information from
Porter, and depended on keeping in with that worthy in order to secure
it.
"Come along, Dick," urged Innis.
"Oh, I don't know," and the young millionaire paused before a case full
of books--a case seldom opened. "I ought to do some boning, and----"
"What!" cried Beeby aghast. "Don't speak of such a thing again. You
nearly gave me heart disease. Come along and have some fun. We don't
often have a chance at it, but there is a faculty pow-wow to-night, and
the coast is unusually clear. That's why Porter had his spread I guess.
We'll go over, make a rough house, and take him and his friend out for
an airing. Then we'll all feel better. Come on, Dick."
There was no help for it, and, somewhat against his will, our hero made
ready to accompany his chums. He did not like to go, as he feared to get
on bad terms with Porter.
It was a very much surprised party of surreptitious midnight feasters on
which our hero and his chums burst half an hour later. The spread was
being held in the apartments of Porter, for he had hired a sitting room
as well as a dormitory chamber. Both were well filled with most of the
members of the "sporting" set.
"What does this mean?" demanded Porter indignantly, as the upper
classmen made their appearance. "I think I did not invite you to my
little affair."
"No, we didn't wait for a bid, Porter, though it was mighty careless of
you to overlook us," retorted Beeby. "But we came, anyhow. Now I guess
you can come with us, Porter and Weston. We're going to initiate you
into the mysteries of the gun club."
There were significant glances from the other cadets for they knew what
this meant. Many of them had been through it on previous occasions.
"We're not coming!" exclaimed Porter aggressively.
"No, and you haven't any right to interrupt us in this manner,"
declared his crony with dignity. "Leave here at once."
"With you, dear friend, and not otherwise," put in Teddy Naylor. "Come
on, it's part of the game."
But Porter and Weston could not see it that way. They protested, and
made a show of fighting. They appealed to the other cadets, but the
latter said they had better comply with the demands of the upper
classmen.
Even then the two cronies remained ugly, and made a show of resistance,
until Beeby and the others, tired of the delay, made a sudden rush, tied
the captives with ropes that had been brought for the purpose, and
marched them quietly from the building.
"Here, you let go of that rope, Hamilton!" cried Porter, as he saw Dick
holding one end of the cords that bound the hands of the two captives
together.
"Can't do it--nohow," was the grim answer, and yet Dick wished that he
might, for he was afraid that this would prove an insurmountable barrier
to future talks with the son of the man who was seeking to ruin Mr.
Hamilton.
"Then I'll get even with you," threatened Porter. "I'll make you fellows
sorry for this night's work, you see if I don't."
"Don't mind him--he's talking like a cannon-swab," said Beeby with a
chuckle.
In a little while the two captives had been placed in front of the town
jail, with instructions to march up and down before it, bearing on their
shoulders grotesque wooden guns made for the hazing purpose.
"And if you desert inside of an hour, you know what it means,"
threatened Jim Watkins. "You'll belong to the Down and Out Club after
that. So keep on the job."
Porter and Weston knew better than to disobey, for their chums, who had
been present at the spread, had whispered to them of the dire penalties
that would follow a disregard of the hazing instructions of the upper
classmen. So the two cronies marched gravely up and down the dark
street, while occasional pedestrians paused to gaze, chuckle silently as
they realized what was in progress.
"I'm not going to stand it!" indignantly declared Porter after a half
hour of the ordeal.
"We'd better," counseled Weston. "I don't want to stay at Kentfield for
a month with not a soul to speak to but you. We've got to do it."
"All right. But I'll get even with Hamilton for this. I think he started
it. I'll get square with him."
"Same here," and Weston shifted his gun to the other shoulder, and
marched forward wearily.
The night wore on, and in the shadows of several buildings the upper
classmen who had originated the joke on the two freshmen, looked on and
chuckled in mirth. Occasionally they called out a remark to the
sentries. More people passed, and some paused to laugh, to the anger of
Porter and Weston. Policemen walked by, but they were familiar with that
form of hazing and did not make any complaint of the odd sight. Some of
the prisoners in the jail peered out from their barred windows and
jeered. All this was bitterness to the two.
After a time Beeby and his chums wearied of the joke, and on the
invitation of George Hall went to a nearby soda fountain for some
chocolate.
"They'll skip out as soon as we're gone," declared Ray Dutton.
"No, I think they'll stick," declared Innis. "Anyhow, Dick, you go back
and take a look. We'll keep your chocolate for you."
Our hero did not relish the task, but did not want to object.
Accordingly, he walked back to the corner where he could look down the
street and catch a glimpse of the two cadet jail-sentries. They were
still on their posts.
Dick turned back to join his chums, and, as did so he almost collided
with a man coming around the corner in an opposite direction.
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed the cadet. "I didn't see you."
"Very evidently," was the rasping reply. "That's the trouble with you
young men, you never look where you're going. Ah! I see, another one of
the soldiers--and if it isn't the same one who nearly ran me down the
other night in an automobile."
Dick recognized the aged Mr. Duncaster.
"I--I'm afraid it is," our hero faltered. "I--I didn't mean to, I'm
sure. I didn't hurt you this time."
"No, but it's not your fault that you didn't. You came around that
corner under a full head of steam. Have you run down any more persons in
your auto?" Enos Duncaster asked sarcastically.
"No, and that time it wasn't my fault."
"Hum--let's see--your name is Hamilton--son of Mortimer Hamilton--I know
him--a hard man in a bargain. Well, I'll let you off this time. Who are
those two young men marching up and down over there--chums of yours?"
"Yes--we--we're hazing them," faltered Dick.
"Ha! Hazing! A senseless and foolish proceeding! But just what I would
expect of you soldier lads--heartless and cruel. Well, let me pass, I've
wasted enough time on you."
Mr. Duncaster's voice was grim and harsh. He brushed by Dick roughly and
passed on down the street, muttering to himself about the foolishness of
youths in general, and in particular regarding those boys who attended
military schools.
Dick, having assured himself that the hazed ones were still patrolling
their post, returned to his chums and helped get away with some
chocolate soda.
There was a telegram awaiting our hero when he reached his room later
that night, Porter and Weston having been released from their hazing
duties.
"Hum, I guess that's from dad," mused Dick. "I wonder what the new
developments are?"
Rapidly he scanned the few words. They were these:
"Dear Dick: Enos Duncaster is the name of the man who holds a lot
of trolley stock. See if you can locate him for me. I understand he
lives somewhere in the vicinity of your academy. Trouble is
thickening. I need help."
"Whew!" whistled Dick. "Enos Duncaster! He's the man who holds the
stock, and whom both sides are after. And I'm in his bad books if ever a
fellow was! Whew! I can see the finish of this without any spectacles!"