A STARTLING DÉNOUEMENT
“Now then, Jerry,” said Clinton Edwards to old Captain Bunce, “you
and your men stay quietly here and watch for us. Be ready to put off
quickly, for we shall have no time to spare when we return.”
Falling naturally into ranks of three and four abreast, we moved
cautiously up the rising land until we reached the level of the college
ground, and stood in the shade of the trees at the outskirts of the
rear campus. There we halted a moment, while Percy Randall gave the
fellows a few whispered directions.
“What is your plan of action, Percy?” asked Edwards.
“To keep the rest here while four of us search the grounds. The moment
we discover the location of the cannons we will return.”
“Good,” said Edwards; “and who is to go ahead to reconnoiter?”
“My idea was to have you, Ray Wendell, Harry Elder, and perhaps Tony
Larcom accompany me, but you have no masks.”
“Oh, pshaw!” exclaimed Ray, “what has that to do with it? We don’t need
to hide our faces. Go ahead; we’ll follow.”
“All right,” answered Percy; “don’t waste a minute, then, but come on.”
Then, turning to the rest, he said in a louder whisper:
“Lie low, fellows, till we want you.”
All dropped flat upon the ground, where the high grass hid them
completely from view. Percy Randall had them well in hand, and had
evidently given them minute instructions. Whatever might be said of
Percy, he was certainly in thorough command of the situation, and his
coolness and courage made him a valuable leader for our party at this
critical period of our expedition.
Leading the rest, the five of us crept stealthily forward under the
shadow of the campus trees, looking sharply to right and left for the
least indication as to the whereabouts of our old artillery pieces.
“It is more than likely that we will find them on the front campus,”
said Edwards, under his breath. “It would be no triumph for the Park
men unless they display their spoils prominently.”
“Yes,” answered Ray; “and it is just like their impudence to place the
cannons in an exactly similar spot to that which they occupied on our
campus so long.”
In accordance with this idea, we stole softly along the paths and
around the buildings toward the front of the grounds.
In our progress we met no one. The campus and buildings were dark and
silent. Not a sound nor a ray of light betrayed the fact that the
gloomy halls about us were inhabited by slumbering inmates. Trusting in
the protection of the deeper shade of the large elm trees in the front
campus, we moved forward more confidently.
Suddenly Percy Randall turned and grasped Ray Wendell by the wrist.
“Well, well, what is it?” asked Ray in a startled whisper, as the rest
of us joined them.
“There, there! look there, by the gate!” exclaimed Percy with a low
chuckle of exultation. His exclamation was not without good cause.
Percy’s eyes were sharp, and they had not served him in vain on this
occasion, for down by the gate, close together, stood our dear old
cannons, and looking so natural in that position that we felt for a
moment that we must be upon our own campus. Perhaps an ordinary passer
by might not have noticed them on a night like this; but our eyes, long
grown accustomed to the shape of the old carriages, quickly discerned
them even in the dark shadows of the elm trees.
Forgetting everything but our discovery, we hastened forward, and in
silent delight clasped the old iron cylinders in our arms.
“Now for the other fellows!” exclaimed Percy Randall. “You wait here
till I come back with the rest.”
Just at that moment the bell up in the tower of the main building
struck one single note, that rolled and echoed over the campus with
startling emphasis. It was one o’clock. Suppressing our excitement, we
stretched ourselves out beside the cannons and awaited Percy’s return
in absolute silence.
The minutes dragged along wearily, and the stillness was growing
almost burdensome, when we heard numerous stealthy footsteps behind
us; and rising up, we found ourselves surrounded by Percy Randall and
his masked followers. Even to us, who knew them to be our companions,
this sudden appearance of a band of disguised men, creeping towards
the cannons in the dim starlight, had a strikingly weird and fantastic
effect. Had Percy Randall been enacting some dire melodrama, he could
not have prepared his materials or set his scene better.
“Now then, quick with the ropes!” said Percy, as the fellows gathered
about. At that moment, Tony Larcom, who had been investigating the
wheels, gave a groan.
“Great Scott! they are chained!” he exclaimed.
“Chained?” cried Percy.
“Yes. The right wheel of this cannon is chained to one gate, and the
right wheel of the other cannon is fast to the other gate.”
“That is so,” said Ray Wendell. “They are chained and padlocked. That
is bad, for the gates are iron, and make mighty solid anchors.”
There was a silence for a moment. Our hearts began to sink.
“Can’t we file the chains?” I asked.
“No,” said Tony. “It would take too long, and we can’t stay here even
ten minutes without running great risk of being caught.”
“Let us take the gates too, then,” exclaimed Percy Randall in his
impetuous way.
This remark struck none of us seriously until Ray Wendell, who had been
examining the hinges, replied:
“Not a bad idea at all. The gates merely rest on their hinges. Two or
three of us could slip one off. Lend a hand here, and let us try.”
Two fellows sprang forward and put their shoulders to the gate. Ray
had judged correctly, for, to our surprise and delight, the gate rose
slowly off its hinges, and in a moment was resting beside the cannon.
“Good, good!” cried Percy Randall softly. “Now take the other off, and
we will bind each on the back of the cannon to which it is chained.”
“Oh, this is rich!” said Tony Larcom to me with a chuckle. “I can’t
help admiring Percy’s nerve. If the rest of the college had been fast
to the gates, I believe he would have proposed taking it in tow.”
We lost no time in getting our ropes attached to the cannons, and in
swinging the muzzles around. Then, stretching out the ropes in the form
of two long loops, we divided our party into two sections, one for each
cannon. This done, we lined up and took our places. Percy Randall gave
the signal for one section, and Ray Wendell for the other. The two
columns swayed forward, the ropes became tight and rigid, and then off
we moved slowly, pulling our old cannons after us.
Throughout our movements we had thus far been undisturbed. Park
College being situated some little distance out of Berkeley, we had no
fear of alarm from town folks, and only anticipated the possibility
of some one awaking in the college buildings. We had been very quiet
in our actions, but, in dragging the cannons, some noise could not be
avoided. It was, therefore, a period of terrible suspense, while we
tugged frantically at the old pieces, fearing every moment that a note
of alarm would be sounded.
We had passed all the buildings in safety with one exception――a
dormitory that stood somewhat apart from the rest, and directly in the
line of our path toward the river. We approached along the gravel walk
with the greatest caution, moving very slowly while in front of the
building, that we might avoid all chance of being detected. We were
getting along toward the end of the dormitory, and were beginning to
breathe freer, when we struck upon a short stretch of flag pavement
that led to the entrance at that end of the building. The rattle of the
wheels on those stones struck a chill to our hearts――a chill, however,
which was nothing to the cold shiver we experienced a moment later,
when we heard the sound of some one moving in a bedroom on the ground
floor, and a short, quick cry of alarm.
“Hullo, there! who is that?”
The voice sounded just beside us. It came from a white robed figure
standing in a window immediately to the right of the entrance.
He seemed for a moment unable to comprehend the situation, and stood
staring wildly out through the grating that protected the first story
windows. Then, as his wits returned to him, he sprang hastily toward
his door, evidently to give a general cry of alarm. Had he remained
within his room and contented himself with shouting, he might have
utterly destroyed our plans, but in opening his door he placed himself
at our mercy. This was just such an emergency as Percy Randall loved.
Quick as a flash he turned, and, crying to the nearest man, “Help
me shut this fellow up!” he dashed into the entry, followed by his
companion. They met the bewildered student just as he opened the door.
There was a short, sharp struggle while Percy and his companion bound
him tightly; then he lay perfectly still.
“There, that nips his little game in the bud,” said Percy. “Now what
shall we do with him? Take him along, too?”
“No,” answered his companion, who proved to be Ray Wendell. “Put him in
on his bed and leave him. We must hurry.”
Accordingly the two lifted the student into his room, and, after making
sure that the gag was arranged to give him no pain, they left him and
we were off again.
We were now safe outside of the college grounds, and so, unmindful
of the noise of the wheels and the clanking of the gates, we pulled
furiously toward the river, where we could see the Geraldine awaiting
us.
As we struck the downward grade the ropes slackened in our hands,
and, instead of our pulling, the cannons gathered speed and began to
press us hard. It was too late to stop them, so down the grade we
scrambled in confused ranks, straining every nerve to avoid our old
iron pursuers, who came bumping along behind us until they struck the
soft earth just before the dock, where they buried their muzzles in the
ground.
Then, laughing at the situation, we gathered about them, pulled them
out, and dragged them down the pier, with a great rumble and roar of
the heavy wheels upon the echoing timbers.
As we looked backward with relief at the college buildings, now far
behind us, we wondered if the dull thunder of our cannon wheels broke
in upon the dreams of any of the sleepers there, and if they had any
appreciation of the true significance of the sound.
A few minutes sufficed to roll the cannons aboard the Geraldine, and
then, without more delay, we turned toward Belmont. The object of our
trip had been accomplished. Our delight knew no bounds. Percy Randall
was for giving three rousing cheers, but Ray Wendell repressed him.
“No,” he said. “Don’t disturb their rest. Let their surprise be
complete when they get up to-morrow morning and find cannons and gates
gone.”
“That reminds me. What shall we do with those gates?” asked Percy.
“My dear boy,” exclaimed Edwards with a laugh, “it was your suggestion
to bring them, and so they are yours.”
“Thanks, awfully,” said Percy, “but I don’t want them. Let us file the
chains or break the padlocks, and throw the gates overboard.”
“There you go again, Percy,” said Edwards. “Don’t you see that that
would put us in the wrong at once? We want to hold the gates subject to
return so as to show that we didn’t come to steal anything. Loosen them
from the cannons, that is the first thing. Then for the time being we
can leave them down at our boathouse. When Park College wants them back
we can return them.”
Percy and several others went below to work over the cannons, while the
rest of us remained on the upper deck during the trip home. By the time
we had reached the lake and were making toward our dock, the gates had
been loosened, and the cannons considerably lightened by their freedom
from these encumbrances, stood ready for their old positions.
Accordingly, after the gates had been placed by the boathouse, the
fellows manned the ropes and started off briskly with the cannons. As
we left the pier the rope on which I was pulling snapped close by the
carriage. A halt was called to repair the break. Ray Wendell drew out
his match-box――a handsome silver case which he always carried with
him――and lit a match, while I crept under the carriage and refastened
the rope. Then we started on again, Ray pulling on the same rope with
me, and immediately in front of me. When we had got about half way up
the hill from the lake the fellow who was just behind me leaned forward
and whispered:
“Will you ask Wendell for his match safe, please?”
I immediately touched Ray on the arm.
“Let me have your match safe, will you, Ray?”
He handed it to me at once, and I passed it back to the fellow behind,
who, being masked like the others, was unrecognized by me.
“When you are done, give it back to Ray Wendell,” I said.
After a few moments more of hard pulling we reached our campus, and
with a tingling sense of pleasure at the final accomplishment of our
plans, hurried the cannons along to their old resting place.
“And now, fellows,” said Edwards, “we must give three cheers before we
disperse. Why don’t you take off your masks? Don’t you know that you
run unnecessary risks by wearing them?”
Percy Randall and another student were busy at the touch holes of the
cannons. Percy looked up.
“Hold on, fellows; the fun hasn’t more than begun,” he cried.
“What do you mean?” asked Ray Wendell in wonderment.
Percy stood up and scratched a match.
“I propose a volley of cheers for our successful campaign,” he cried.
I started to cheer, but I found my voice drowned out in a deafening
blare of tin horns which every man drew from his pocket. This was a
totally unexpected development, for a horn spree was the last thing
I anticipated at that time. Still we were in for it now, and I was
disposed to enjoy the fun while it lasted. Before my ears had become
accustomed to the hideous twang of the horns another shock occurred.
Percy Randall leaned forward with his match. There was a sharp
sputtering for a few seconds, then two vivid, blinding sheets of flame,
and the double roar of the two cannons, which at some time during the
trip home on the Geraldine had been loaded by Percy’s directions. It
was the first time in many years that the voice of the old artillery
had been heard, but it seemed as if all the force reserved during that
long spell of silence was concentrated in this one blast, for the
ground under us fairly shook, while we could hear windows rattling and
crashing in every direction.
Immediately everybody took to his heels, and as the roar of the cannons
rolled away, the sharp nasal bray of horns reëchoed from every quarter
of the campus, dying away in the recesses of the various buildings
whither the crowd had taken flight. It was “every man for himself” in
that scramble, and for my part, the shortest route to my room in Colver
Hall was what suited me best, so off I dashed.
Unfortunately I had to pass near the college offices. I thought I was
in safety, and was about to pass my entry when a rough hand was laid on
my collar. I was brought to a sudden and unexpected stop, the shock of
which nearly jerked my head off. I struggled to free myself, but in
vain, so, turning about to see who my captor was, I discovered to my
dismay that I was standing face to face with proctor Murray.