MRS. BOWSER'S CAT.
"The question before this honorable board," began the Codfish, as
he stretched himself out one night in Frank's Morris chair before
Frank's comfortable blaze, thus displaying his characteristic hosiery
of vivid color, "is, what has become of Mrs. Bowser's cat? Don't all
speak at once."
It was a cold day in the middle of January. Football had been laid
away on the shelf for two months. The ticklish period of examinations
before the Christmas holidays was a thing of the past, and all
examinations had been passed successfully by our friends, although
Lewis had had a tight squeeze. Frank, Jimmy, the Codfish, Lewis and
David were gathered around the blazing fire. Books had been tossed
aside for the night, when the Codfish propounded his question.
"The poor thing couldn't stand that hymn in Chapel this morning,"
said Frank. "When you raised your voice she skipped to the tall
timbers."
"I don't blame her, do you, Frank?" inquired Jimmy. "The Codfish
has a voice which would drive a biped crazy, to say nothing of a
quadruped or even a centipede. He sings on both sides of the note and
never hits it."
"What happened to the old cat, anyway?" broke in Lewis, as the
Codfish was about to come back at Jimmy with hot shot.
"Ask the Codfish," returned Frank. "He was on the aisle where the
whole thing happened. Maybe he was responsible for the presence of
Tabby, and if he was, he has first-hand information of the greatest
importance. Out with it, Codfish."
"Not guilty!" said the accused, stretching himself still further
till his feet touched the fender. "I got tangled up with the Bowser
family once, and once is enough. I stand before you guiltless of the
dastardly deed."
"Who brought the cat in, anyway?"
"Give it up," said the Codfish. "Some one of those fresh young things
on the east aisle. The proctors are looking for him, and if they find
him and Mrs. Bowser gets her hand on him, there will be a funeral at
some rural household, I'm thinking."
"She certainly did set up a howl this morning," said Jimmy, "when----"
"Who, the cat or Mrs. Bowser?" inquired Frank.
"The cat, my smart young drop kicker; and then she--the cat, not Mrs.
Bowser--flew out with her tail the size of a muff."
"And like the last lines of the story, she was never seen nor heard
of again," added Jimmy dolefully.
"Poor Mrs. Bowser!" said Frank.
"Poor Tabby!" said the Codfish. "Mrs. Bowser still has her nice,
warm, comfortable house, while poor pussy is probably out in the cold
somewhere. Why doesn't the fool cat have sense enough to go home?" he
continued. "I would."
"Probably the fear of hearing your voice is in her heart, and she
would have to pass Honeywell Hall to get back home."
The incident that the boys were discussing was the appearance that
morning at prayers of a sleek black cat. Evidently she had been
picked up by some one of a mischievous turn of mind and smuggled into
the Chapel. Prayers were just over. The boys were in the middle of
the fine old tune of "America," and had reached the first line of the
third verse, "Let music swell the breeze," when there was a piercing
howl, and a furry bunch of animation, which proved to be a black cat,
shot across the open space of the Chapel just below the platform and
between that and the first row of seats. The volume of tone instantly
diminished as heads were turned and necks craned to see what was
happening. Pussy ran up the steps of the platform, took one wild
look at Dr. Hobart and then tore down the aisle for the door. Hands
shot out here and there to interrupt the meteor-like passage of the
black cat, but she dodged them all and, uttering high-pitched yowls,
reached the Chapel door and disappeared.
From that moment no one had seen her. During the day the news had
spread around that Mrs. Black Cat, who bore the euphonious name of
"Pandora," had been kidnapped. A search was instituted. The Chapel
building had been searched and the dormitories next to it, but
neither hide nor hair of Pandora had come to light. Mrs. Bowser
was distracted. The guilty boy or boys who smuggled the cat into
the Chapel had gone undetected, although there had been much
cross-questioning and some little detective work by the proctors.
"Well, I'd like to find Pandora," said Frank. "I don't forget that
Mrs. Bowser helped us out of a bad scrape last year, when Lewis got
the tags mixed up on the ice-cream consignment and sent the poor lady
the wrong box."
"Same here," said the Codfish. "I'd take a hand in the rescue myself,
if it wasn't so blooming cold to-night."
"That's just it, it is so blooming cold that poor pussy is likely to
freeze to death. If she's inside, she's all right."
"Of course she's inside, you blithering idiot," said the Codfish,
yawning. "Any cat that knows enough to sing 'America' isn't likely to
be so dumb as to stay out in zero weather, is she? Perhaps she wasn't
kidnapped at all----"
"Cat-napped, you mean," corrected Jimmy.
"Well, cat-napped, then. Perhaps she's just a good religious cat and
came in to prayers like any Freshman. Whatever her intention was, I
can't help it. But there's one thing I do know," and the Codfish sat
up and wagged his forefinger impressively.
"What?"
"That I'm going to my downy couch, cat or no cat." He rose to his
feet, gave a prodigious stretch and ambled off in the direction of
the bed chamber.
"Well, I must be going, too," said Jimmy.
"I'll take a turn with you," said Frank. "Come on, David, a whiff of
this sharp air will do you good."
"Can't," said David. "I've got to work on an editorial for the
_Mirror_."
"All right, I'll go alone. I'll only be a minute."
Together the three boys, Jimmy, Lewis and Frank, clattered out of the
dormitory and stepped rapidly up the walk.
"By Jove!" said Frank, "I'd like to walk about five miles. Isn't this
air wonderful?" and he drew in a deep breath of the frosty air.
"About fifty feet is enough for me," grunted Lewis, and as they
reached his entry, "I'll drop off this procession right here. Ta, ta.
If you fellows are found frozen stiff as Lot's wife in the morning,
I'll say I told you so."
"Lot's wife wasn't frozen," said Jimmy; "she was petrified. Your
Biblical education has been neglected."
"You fellows will be both petrified and frozen in about five minutes,
if you hang around there correcting your betters on Biblical
matters," retorted Lewis, and he dashed up the stairs.
"Come on!" shouted Frank to Jimmy; "I'll race you to the other end of
the yard and back--one, two, three, go!"
Away the two tore at breakneck speed down the walk. The Chapel lay at
the far end of the walk on which the boys were having their little
race, and it was to be the turning point. Frank reached the wall of
the tower first, touched it and turned a step or two ahead of Jimmy.
The latter trying to make a quick turn slipped and fell to the ground
with a crash. Frank stopped and came back.
"Acknowledge you're licked," he said, helping Jimmy to his feet.
"I'm licked, all right, and I'm also skinned, all right," grumbled
Jimmy. "Ouch! I've knocked more skin off my hip than I did all
through the football season." He limped around rubbing the injured
member.
"I've got a bottle of arnica at the room; come on back and I'll fix
you up," laughed Frank. "Sorry, old man, but you can't run till you
stretch your legs more. They're too short."
"I don't want arnica; I want some nice tough skin. If you have any of
that down there to spare, I'll go back with you. S-s-s-s-h--what was
that?"
Jimmy's ear had caught a sound like a long-drawn-out cry. "Didn't you
hear it, Frank?"
"You have a singing in your ears, Jimmy," said Frank. "Come along,
I'll give you my arm."
"There it is again," said Jimmy in a whisper. "Listen!"
As they stood with their heads cocked, there came a long wail as of
something in distress. It sounded half human, half animal, and was
quite terrifying. It seemed to come out of the air above them.
"Great Peter, what is it?" said Jimmy, clutching Frank by the arm.
Frank began to laugh. "It does sound bad, certainly. She's trying to
get the tune of 'America' just right, I guess. It's the cat, or I
miss my guess."
"And for pity sake, where is she?" gasped Jimmy, turning his face
skyward where the stars glittered in the frosty atmosphere.
"The mystery is explained," said Frank. "Mrs. Bowser's cat has
somehow or other got into the tower. She doesn't like it a bit, and
she wants to go home."
"I guess that's the explanation," returned Jimmy. "But I don't see
how she's going to get home to-night, unless we can get up there."
"And if we don't get up, she'll probably never go home," said Frank.
"It must be terribly cold up there. It is all open up in the belfry,
and it's dollars to doughnuts she'll be as stiff as Lewis said Lot's
wife was, by morning." To emphasize his words, another wail floated
out on the night air. It seemed more pitiful than before and weaker.
"Poor Pandora is getting discouraged," cried Jimmy. "We've got to get
her somehow."
For answer, Frank strode to the big front door of the Chapel and
tried the knob, with Jimmy at his heels. "Just as I thought," he
said; "it is locked."
The boys stood and looked at each other. "Guess we'd better go and
hunt up the janitor," said Jimmy. "He can bring her down. I don't
want to take any more chances. I've lost all the skin I want to lose
to-night."
"There's a little door around on the other side," said Frank, "which
the janitor uses to go in and out of the building, but I suppose
that's locked, too. Let's try it. If we can't get in, we'll have to
report the whereabouts of Pandora. But just for the fun of the thing,
I'd like to get that tabby cat and take her back to the lady who is
worrying about her. It would square us a little for that bad job we
did to the Travel Club last winter." He was already on his way to the
little door at the back of the tower, and Jimmy tagged along behind,
protesting.
"No use, Frank," he said. "Old Bonesey"--the nickname applied to the
Chapel janitor by the boys because he was so lean and bony--"keeps
that door locked as tight as a drum. Some one stole the clapper of
the bell a few years ago and he is particular about that door. We'd
better go and report that pussy is in the tower, and then skip for
bed. It's getting late."
But Frank was not listening. Just about the time Jimmy reached
the end of his protest, Frank reached the door, which was all in
darkness, sunk as it was in the deep wall of the tower, which was at
this point perhaps three feet thick.
"Here we are," he said as he grasped the handle. "And here's
luck--it's open. Old Bonesey slipped a cog to-night. Come on." Frank
stepped over the threshold. Jimmy followed cautiously. The hall was
as dark as pitch, not even the faintest ray of light penetrating into
the place to help them. Frank, leading, stumbled along and fell over
something in the passageway, startling Jimmy half out of his wits.
"Come back here, you chump," he cried in a subdued voice. "I don't
like this."
"Come on!" whispered Frank, who had regained his feet and was
advancing. "This passage brings us out into the vestibule of the
Chapel, and once there we can get into the tower easily. There's a
ladder or stairs or something from the back of the gallery."
"Yes, I know that," returned Jimmy in a half whisper, for the gloom
of the place chilled him more than the biting air; "but how are we
going to climb it in the dark?"
"Oh, it's easy," said Frank. "Come on, I'll lead and you can come
behind. I'm going to make a try for that cat."
"All right," said Jimmy almost sulkily, "go on, but if you break your
blooming neck you needn't blame me for it," and he shuffled after
Frank.
Soon they came out of the passageway and, as Frank said, they were in
the vestibule leading to the Chapel. From that vestibule the doors
led into the various aisles of the Chapel, and at the farther end
of the vestibule rose a circular flight of stairs which led to the
gallery and on to the belfry, as the boys well knew. Toward this
they made their way cautiously. A little light from the stars came
in through the windows at the far end of the vestibule. Frank led
on, feeling along the wall and stepping cautiously. They both felt a
little queer to be alone in such a place and in such a manner in the
dead of night, but, as Frank said afterward, they were on an errand
of mercy, and having set out on the mission they would not turn back.
Soon they struck the wall at the far end of the vestibule from which
they had entered, and a little feeling around gave them the lower
step of the winding stairway.
"Here she is!" said Frank. "Take hold of the rail. Our troubles are
half over."
"I think they are only beginning," grumbled Jimmy. "I'd much rather
be in bed than here any day."
"Any night, you mean. Come on. This is easy." Jimmy didn't think so,
but he would have followed Frank anywhere that Frank would lead. It
was plain that he didn't like the errand, judging from sundry grunts
that came from him as they edged up the stairs. Without mishap, the
two rescuers climbed steadily on. At times their passage was lighted
by a flicker of outside light which came through the narrow slits of
windows, and at times they were in absolute blackness.
At last they came to a landing, which Frank carefully felt over to
make sure there were no holes through which they might tumble. The
examination was satisfactory. "Now, there ought to be a short ladder
from here up into the belfry where Pandora is probably freezing to
death, for she hasn't howled since we started."
He had hardly spoken the words when a wail just above their heads
showed them they were on the right track. "All right, pussy, we're on
the way; keep a stiff upper lip! Here's the ladder, Jimmy. I knew it
must be here somewhere. Be careful, it seems to be about straight up
and down." Jimmy had just set his hand to the ladder and Frank was
up in the darkness somewhere above him, when there was a tremendous
crash just above their heads and the whole tower seemed to rock with
the noise!