ON THE WAY TO PUTNAM HALL
"Boys, we start the march back to Putnam Hall in fifteen minutes!"
Such was the news which flew around the camp not long after the dinner
hour had passed. Already the tents had been taken down, the baggage
strapped, and six big wagons fairly groaned with the loads of goods to
be taken back to the military institution.
The cadets had marched to the camp by one route and were to return to
the academy by another. All was bustle and excitement, for in spite of
the general order a few things had gone astray.
"Weally, this is most--ah--remarkable, don't you know," came from that
aristocratic cadet named William Philander Tubbs.
"What's remarkable, Tublets?" asked Tom, who was near by, putting away
a pair of blankets.
"Lieutenant Rover, how many times must I--ah--tell you not to address me
as Tublets?" sighed the fashionable young cadet.
"Oh, all right, Tubhouse, it shan't occur again, upon my honor."
"Tubhouse! Oh, Rover, please let up!"
"What's wrong, Billy?"
"That is better, but it is bad enough," sighed William Philander.
"I've--ah--lost one of my walking shoes."
"Perhaps, being a walking shoe, it walked off."
"Maybe it got in that beefsteak we had this morning," put in Sam, with
a wink. "I thought that steak was rather tough."
"Shoo yourself with such a joke, Sam," came from Fred Garrison.
"Have you really lost your shoe, Tubby, dear?" sang out Songbird
Powell, the so-styled "poet" of the academy. And then he started to
sing:
"Rub a dub dub!
One shoe on the Tubb!
Where can the other one be?
Look in your bunk
And look in your trunk,
And look in the bumble-bee tree!"
"Whoop! hurrah! Songbird has composed another ode in Washtub's honor,"
sang out Fred Garrison. "Washtub, you ought to give Songbird a dollar
for that."
"Thanks, but I make not my odes for filthy lucre," same from Powell,
tragically, and then he continued:
"One penny reward,
And a big tin sword,
To whoever finds the shoe.
Come one at a time,
And form in line,
And raise a hullabaloo!"
And then a shout went up that could be heard all over the encampment.
"I'll lend you a slipper, Tubbs," said little Harry Moss, whose shoes
were several sizes smaller than those of the aristocratic cadet.
"Somebody get me a shingle and I'll cut Tubstand a sandal with my
jackknife," came from Tom.
"I'll shingle you!" roared William Philander Tubbs, and rushed away to
escape his tormentors. In the end he found another shoe, but it was not
the one he wanted, for that had been rolled up in the blankets by Tom
and was not returned until Putnam Hall was reached.
Drums and fifes enlivened the way as the cadets started for the
military academy. The march was to take the balance of that afternoon
and all of the next day. During the night they were to camp out like
regular soldiers on the march, in a big field Captain Putnam had hired
for that purpose.
The march did not take the cadets through Oakville, so the Rover boys
did not see the friends they had made in that vicinity. They headed
directly for the village of Bramley, and then for another small
settlement named White Corners,--why, nobody could tell, since there
was not so much as a white post anywhere to be seen in that vicinity.
"It's queer how a name sticks," declared Tom, after speaking of this to
his brother Dick. "They might rather call this Brown Corners, since
most of the houses are brown."
At the Corners they obtained supper, which was supplied to the cadets
by the hotel keeper, who had been notified in advance of their coming.
While they were eating a boy who worked around the stables of the hotel
watched them curiously. Afterwards this boy came up to Sam and Tom.
"We had a cadet here yesterday who was awfully mad," said the boy.
"Had hydrophobia, eh?" returned Tom. "Too bad!"
"No, I don't mean that; I mean he was very angry."
"What was the trouble?"
"I don't know exactly, but I think he had been sent away from the
school for something or other."
"What was his name?"
"Lew Flapp."
"Why, I thought he had gone home!" cried Sam.
"So did I," answered his brother. He turned to the hotel youth. "What
was this Flapp doing here?"
"Nothing much. He asked the boss when you were expected here."
"Is he here now?"
"No, he left last night."
"Where did he go to?"
"I don't know, but I thought I would tell you about the fellow. I think
he is going to try to do you cadets some harm."
"Did he mention any names?"
"He seemed to be extra bitter against three brothers named Rover."
"Humph!"
"Are the Rovers here?" went on the youth.
"I think they are, sonny. I'm one, this is another, and there is the
third," and Tom pointed to Dick, who was at a distance, conversing with
some other cadets.
"Oh, so you are the Rovers! How strange that I should speak to you of
this!"
"Which way did this Lew Flapp go?" questioned Sam.
"Off the way you are bound."
"I'll wager he tries to make trouble for us on our way to Putnam Hall,
Tom."
"It's not unlikely, Sam."
"Shall we tell Captain Putnam of this?" Tom shook his head.
"No, let us tell Dick, though, and a few of the others. Then we can
keep our eyes peeled for Lew Flapp and, if he actually does wrong,
expose him."
A little later Tom and Sam interviewed Dick on the subject, and then
they told Larry Colby, Fred Garrison, George Granbury, and half a dozen
others.
"I don't believe he will do much," said Larry Colby. "He is only
talking, that's all. He knows well enough that Captain Putnam can have
him locked up, if he wants to."
By eight o'clock that evening the field in which they were to encamp
for the night was reached. Tents were speedily put up, and half a dozen
camp-fires started, making the boys feel quite at home. The cadets
gathered around the fires and sang song after song, and not a few
practical jokes were played.
"Hans, they tell me you feel cold and want your blood shook up," said
Tom to Hans Mueller, the German cadet.
"Coldt, is it?" queried Hans. "Vot you dinks, I vos coldt mid der
borometer apout two hundred by der shade, ain't it? I vos so hot like I
lif in Africa alretty!"
"Oh, Hans must be cold!" cried Sam. "Let us shake him up, boys!"
"All right!" came from half a dozen. "Get a blanket, somebody!"
"No, you ton't, not by my life alretty!" sang out Hans, who had been
tossed up before. "I stay py der groundt mine feets on!" And he started
to run away.
Several went after him, and he was caught in the middle of an adjoining
cornfield, where a rough-and-tumble scuffle ensued, with poor Hans at
the bottom of the heap.
"Hi, git off, kvick!" he gasped. "Dis ton't been no footsball game
nohow! Git off, somebody, und dake dot knee mine mouth out of!"
"Are you warm, now, Hansy!" asked Tom.
"Chust you wait, Tom Rofer," answered the German cadet, and shook his
fist at his tormentor. "I git square somedimes, or mine name ain't--"
"Sauerkraut!" finished another cadet, and a roar went up. "Hans, is it
true that you eat sauerkraut three times a day when you are at home?"
"No, I ton't eat him more as dree dimes a veek," answered Hans,
innocently.
"Hans is going to treat us all to Limberger cheese when his birthday
comes," put in Fred Garrison. "It's a secret though, so don't tell
anybody."
"I ton't vos eat Limberger," came from Hans.
"Oh, Hansy!" groaned several in chorus.
"Base villain, thou hast deceived us!" quoted Songbird Powell. "Away to
the dungeon with him!" And then the crowd dragged poor Hans through the
cornfield and back to the camp-fire once more, where he was made to sit
so close to the blaze that the perspiration poured from his round and
rosy face. Yet with it all he took the joking in good part, and often
gave his tormentors as good as they sent.
"They tell me that William Philander Tubbs is going to Newport for the
summer," said Tom. a little later, when the cadets were getting ready
to retire. "Just wait till he gets back next Fall, he'll be more dudish
than ever."
"We ought to tame him a little before we let him go," said Sam.
"Right you are, Sam. But what can we do? Nearly everything has been
tried since we went into camp."
"I have a plan, Tom."
"All right; let's have it."
"Why not black Tubby up while he is asleep?"
"Sam, you are a jewel. But where are we to get the lamp-black?"
"I've got it already. I put several corks in the camp-fire, and burnt
cork is the best stuff for blacking up known."
"Right again. Oh, but we'll make William Philander look like a regular
negro minstrel. And that's not all. After the job is done we'll wake
him up and tell him Captain Putnam wants to see him at once."
Several boys were let into the secret, and then all waited impatiently
for Tubbs to retire. This he soon did, and in a few minutes was sound
asleep.
"Now then, come on," said Sam, and led the way to carry out the
anticipated fun.