PLUXTON CUDDLE’S PROPOSITION
“Say, Jack, this begins to look serious,” remarked Pepper in a whisper,
as all eyes were directed to Crabtree and the lash he carried.
“He’ll make a big mistake if he tries to whip us,” was the young major’s
comment. “What’s this?” he asked, as a bit of paper was thrust into his
hand. The paper read:
“_Refuse to say a word about anything. Pass this paper along._”
“That’s the talk,” said the young major, and slipped the sheet to the
student behind him. Thus the paper travelled from one end of the
classroom to the other.
“I was just going to call the roll, Mr. Crabtree,” said Pluxton Cuddle.
“We’ll find out soon who is guilty of assaulting you.”
“Yes! yes! The quicker the better,” answered the other teacher, grimly,
and clutched his cat-o’-nine tails tightly.
“If he tries to use that there will be a regular fight, mark my words,”
whispered Dale, who sat near Pepper.
“He’s a fool to bring that here, at such a time,” answered The Imp.
“What does he take us for, a lot of kids?”
“Addison!” called out Pluxton Cuddle, with his eyes on the roll book.
“Stand up!”
The cadet addressed did so.
“Did you throw anything at Mr. Crabtree?”
“I have nothing to say, sir.”
“Do you defy me?” fumed Pluxton Cuddle.
To this the pupil made no answer.
“Sit down! Blackmore, stand up. What have you to say?”
“I have nothing to say, Mr. Cuddle.”
“What! You—er—Is this a plot, sir?”
“I have nothing to say, sir, excepting that I am willing to go on with
my lessons, Mr. Cuddle.”
“We’ll have no lessons here until this is settled!” cried Josiah
Crabtree. “Call the next pupil.”
“Blossom! What have you to say for yourself?” asked Cuddle.
“I have nothing to say, sir,” replied the first lieutenant of Company A,
in the same tone of voice employed by those who had answered before him.
“This is—a conspiracy!” gasped Pluxton Cuddle.
“I told you how it was!” cried Josiah Crabtree. “I think the best thing
I can do is to give each pupil present ten lashes with this cat.” And he
shook the cat-o’-nine tails in the boys’ faces.
“Mr. Crabtree!” called out Jack, rising. “As major of the school
battalion I feel it my duty to speak out. I think the boys would like me
to be their spokesman.”
“Yes! yes!” was the cry from all sides.
“Tell him we won’t stand for a licking,” said one boy in the rear.
“Silence!” cried the two teachers simultaneously.
“We want justice!” came from the middle of the room.
“Leave it to Captain Putnam!” came from the right.
“Forget it and go on with the lessons,” added a voice from the left.
“Boys!” called out Jack and waved his hand. “Let me do the talking
please.” And at once the classroom became silent.
“Ruddy, I want you to sit down!” thundered Josiah Crabtree.
“Perhaps it would be as well to listen to what he has to say,” whispered
Pluxton Cuddle, who was growing a little alarmed at the demonstration
the pupils seemed to be on the point of making.
“Mr. Cuddle, am I in authority here, or you?” demanded the unreasonable
Crabtree.
“You asked me to assist you, sir,” answered Cuddle, sharply.
“So I did, but—but—these young ruffians must be taught to mind! The way
they have acted is outrageous!”
“You won’t gain much by bullying them,” went on Pluxton Cuddle. “If I
had my way, I know what I’d do, sir.”
“And what would you do?” snapped Josiah Crabtree.
“I should cut down their supply of food. That is the whole fault in this
school—the boys get too much to eat, sir, entirely too much. It makes
animals of them, yes, sir, animals!” Pluxton Cuddle was beginning to
mount his hobby. “I have told Captain Putnam about it already. If the
boys had only half of what they get now they would be brighter, quicker
to learn, and much more easy to manage. As it is, they get large
quantities of meat and it makes perfect bulls of them—and the pastry
clogs their brains, and they can’t learn their lessons even if they try.
Put them on half rations, and in less than a week you will behold a
wonderful change in them.”
“Humph!” mused Josiah Crabtree, struck by a sudden idea. “It might be a
good thing to cut down their food—give them say one meal a day until
they got to their senses.”
“Two small meals,” interposed Pluxton Cuddle, eagerly. “And meat but
once every forty-eight hours—and no pastry of any kind. It would do them
a world of good.”
“Well, do as you think best, Mr. Cuddle. You have charge of them outside
of the classrooms, remember.”
“Then you agree?” questioned Pluxton Cuddle eagerly.
“You may do as you please—I leave them entirely in your hands, outside
of the classrooms. During school hours my word must be law.”
“Exactly, I understand.” Pluxton Cuddle began rubbing his hands
together. “We’ll start on the new system of meals this very evening.”
“Do as you like.” Josiah Crabtree paused. “But I must finish what I
started out to do.” He looked at Jack. “Ruddy, since you seem so very
anxious to talk, what have you to say for yourself?”
“I wish to speak for the whole class—or at least for the majority of the
boys,” corrected the young major, with a glance at Ritter, Coulter,
Paxton and Sabine.
“Well, out with it!” snapped Crabtree.
“This trouble, sir, is all due to a misunderstanding,” pursued the young
major. “We thought you wanted us to study the Latin lesson up to and
including paragraph twenty-two. We were not prepared to go any further
than that, even though Dave Kearney did get through all right. We think
the whole matter might be dropped where it is—and we are willing to go
back to our studies.”
“Drop it!” snapped Josiah Crabtree. “Never! If I do nothing more, I am
going to thrash the boy who threw that inkwell at me and covered my face
with ink.”
He said this so fiercely that Reff Ritter grew pale and looked around
anxiously. The bully wondered if the other cadets present would help him
to keep his secret.
“I want the student who threw that inkwell to stand up,” went on the
teacher, as Jack, having had his way, sat down.
Nobody moved, although several pairs of eyes were turned upon Reff
Ritter. Many lads present would have been glad to have seen the bully
punished, but they did not consider it honorable to expose him.
Crabtree had Pluxton Cuddle go through the roll, but this gave the
teachers no satisfaction. Each and every cadet answered that he had
nothing to say.
After the last student had been questioned there was another pause and
an ominous silence. The boys were curious to know what Josiah Crabtree
would do next. The teacher was in a quandary.
“We will take this up again another time,” he snapped, finally. “You may
return to your lessons, and to-morrow we’ll have for a Latin lesson down
to the end of paragraph thirty-two. Do you understand?—down to the end
of paragraph thirty-two—not thirty or thirty-one, but to the end of
thirty-two.” And then turning he wrote the statement on the blackboard.
“Now there will be no further misunderstanding,” he added sourly. Then
he dismissed Peleg Snuggers and the gymnastic instructor, put away the
cat-o’-nine tails in his desk, and turned to talk with Pluxton Cuddle in
a whisper, so that the scholars might not hear what was said.
“Phew! I wonder if he really expects us to take such a long lesson?”
exclaimed Pepper in a low voice. “Why, from twenty-two to thirty-two are
ten paragraphs, and we never had over six before.”
“He is going to get square in one way if not in another,” answered Andy.
“Just the same, I’ll wager a lot of the fellows won’t have the lesson
to-morrow.”
A few minutes later Pluxton Cuddle hurried out to another classroom, and
then the routine for the day went on as if nothing out of the ordinary
had happened. The cadets even saw Josiah Crabtree smile to himself. It
was a bad sign, and they knew it.
“He’s got it in for us,” whispered Dale. “Look out for a storm.”
“Yes, and a hurricane at that,” returned Stuffer.
The classes were usually dismissed in the morning at ten minutes to
twelve, thus giving the cadets ten minutes for exercise before sitting
down to dinner. But twelve o’clock came and Josiah Crabtree made no
motion to dismiss the boys.
“Hello, this is a new move,” cried Pepper, in a low voice.
“Silence in the room,” called out the teacher sharply. “We will now take
up the lesson in algebra. Conners, you may go to the blackboard.”
Somewhat perplexed, Bart Conners arose and walked to the board. He did
not know the algebra lesson very well, for he had counted on going over
it during the noon hour. He was given a decidedly difficult problem in
equations.
“Say, is he going to keep us here all noon?” asked Hogan. “Sure, if he
is, ’tis an outrage, so ’tis!”
“He isn’t going to starve me!” answered Stuffer, who, as usual, was very
hungry. He raised his hand, and then, to get quicker recognition,
snapped his finger and thumb.
“Singleton, what do you want?” asked Josiah Crabtree, tartly.
“Please, sir, it’s after twelve o’clock.”
“I know it.”
“Aren’t we to go to dinner, sir?”
“Not now. Sit down.” And the teacher frowned heavily.
Stuffer sank into his seat, a look of misery on his face. His appearance
was so woe-begone Pepper had to laugh outright. At this Crabtree rapped
sharply on his desk.
“Silence! I will have silence!” he called. “Conners, go on with the
example.”
“I can’t—er—do it,” stammered the captain of Company B.
“Huh! Then take your seat! Ritter!”
“Please, sir, I am afraid I can’t do it either. I was going to study
directly after dinner——” began the bully.
“Never mind the rest, Ritter. Paxton!”
“I guess I can do it,” answered Nick Paxton, and shuffled to the
blackboard. He soon had a mass of figures written down, but they seemed
to lead to nowhere, and Josiah Crabtree was more put out than ever.
“That is all wrong, Paxton!” he said. “You are a blockhead! Take your
seat!” And Paxton did so, with his head hanging down.
In the meantime the other classes had been dismissed, and those kept in
could hear the other cadets walk through the halls and enter the mess
room. Then followed a clatter of knives and forks and dishes. These
sounds made many cadets besides Stuffer feel an emptiness in the
vicinity of their belts.
“As no one appears to know the algebra lesson, we will take time for
studying,” said Josiah Crabtree. “I will examine you again at one
o’clock. The room will be quiet.”
Quarter of an hour dragged by slowly. The boys wanted to talk the
situation over, but Josiah Crabtree would permit no whispering.
Presently the teacher arose and walked to the door.
“I will be back shortly,” he said, in a cold voice. “I want absolute
order maintained during my absence.” Then he went out, shutting the door
after him. A strange clicking followed.
“He has locked us in!” exclaimed a youth who sat near the door, in a
hoarse whisper. “Now what do you think of that?”