A GRAND WIND UP
"What's the matter?" demanded John Smith, as he and Nat joined their
comrade.
"Did you get lost?" asked Nat.
"No, only sort of delayed," answered Jack.
"What makes you talk so funny?" inquired John.
"I expect it's because my lips are swollen," was the reply.
"Did some one hold you up and try to rob you?" cried Nat, in alarm.
"Well, it was a hold-up, but no robbery," said Jack, and then he
related what had happened.
"Why didn't you yell for help?" asked John. "We'd have come back."
"I didn't need any," replied Jack. "It was a fair fight enough. I
guess he'll not forget that one on the chin in a hurry," and he
laughed in spite of his swollen lips and blackened eye.
"Much damaged?" asked Nat.
"I'm afraid I've got a shiner," Jack replied. "They're sure to notice
it at the Hall, and what will I say?"
"Steal their thunder," advised John. "Let's hurry back, and report at
once to the doctor."
"Good idea," spoke Jack.
They made good time back to the academy, and arrived a little before
eleven.
"Dr. Mead says I'm to mark down just the time you come in," said
Martin, the monitor.
"That's right," agreed Jack. "Is the doctor in his study?"
"I believe he is."
"We want to see him," went on Jack.
"Been fighting." said Martin to himself. "My, my! What boys they are!
Always into something!"
"Come in!" called the head of the Academy in answer to Jack's knock
on his door, and the three lads entered.
"Ah, Ranger! And Smith and Anderson. Well, what can I do--Ha!
Fighting, eh!" and the tone that had been a genial one became stern.
"Yes, sir," admitted Jack boldly. "I came to tell you all about it,
before you heard a garbled report from some one else."
Then he related exactly what had happened, Nat and John confirming
what he said. The boys' stories were so evidently true that Dr. Mead
could but believe them.
"That's enough," he said when Jack had finished. "I believe you.
Don't let it--well, there, I don't suppose it was your fault.
Fighting is a bad business--but then--well boys, now get to bed. You
have plenty of hard work before you go in the next week with all the
examinations. Good night!"
"Good night!" echoed the lads.
"That was the best way out," agreed Jack, when they were in the
corridor. "Now I've got to get some vinegar and brown paper for this
optic or I'll look a sight to-morrow."
Examinations held sway for nearly a week thereafter. But "it's a long
lane that has no turning" and, at last there came a time when the
boys could say:
"To-morrow's the last day of school."
The term was at an end, and the whole academy was in a ferment over
it. The students were busy packing their belongings, the graduates
had already departed, and there was almost as much excitement as at
the annual football or baseball games with a rival institution.
The night before the day of the closing exercises, Jack's room was a
gathering place for all his chums. Fred Kaler was so excited he tried
to played a mouth organ, a jews'-harp and a tin flute, all at the
same time, with results anything but musical, while Will Slade
stuttered as he never had before.
"What will we do for a final wind-up?" asked Sam.
"Let it be something worthy of the name of Washington Hall,"
exclaimed Jack.
"We ought to work Professors Garlach and Socrat into it somehow,"
suggested Bony. "They're more fun than a bunch of monkeys."
"Get 'em to fight another duel," put in Sam.
"They'd suspect something leading up to that," spoke John Smith.
"Let's see if we can't make one outdo the other in politeness."
suggested Jack. "I have a sort of scheme."
"Trot it out!" demanded Sam.
"I'll get Garlach to write Socrat a note," said Jack.
"Where's the fun in that?" asked Bony.
"Then I'll have Socrat send a little missive to Garlach."
"What's the answer?" demanded Nat.
"Garlach will write in French and Socrat will pen a few lines in
German, and I'll tell 'em what to write," Jack went on. "Do you see
my drift, as the snow bank said to the wind?"
"Good!" exclaimed Sam. "Go ahead."
The boys soon got together over the plan, and Jack was given plenty
of suggestions to perfect it. He made up a number of sample notes,
and then, being satisfied, he announced:
"Now I'm going to start in. Just hang around, you fellows, and see
what happens."
It was about nine o'clock, but as it was the night before the last
day of school, hardly any of the teachers or the pupils had thought
of going to bed.
Jack went to Professor Garlach's room. He found the instructor busy
packing up his books preparatory to the vacation.
"Ach! It iss young Ranger!" exclaimed the German instructor.
"Velcome. Come in. It is goot to see you."
"Thanks, Professor," said Jack. "I suppose you are all ready for the
long rest?"
"Sure I am, Ranger."
"Well, we all are. I saw Professor Socrat packing up as I came past."
At the mention of the French teacher's name Professor Garlach seemed
to bristle up. There was always more or less ill feeling between them
on account of their nationalities, but of late it was especially
acute.
"Ach! Speak not of him!" growled Garlach.
"I think he wants to make friends with you," went on Jack, trying not
to smile. "In fact he said as much to me. He said he would like to
write you a farewell note and apologize for anything that might have
given you offense."
The German's manner changed. Jack was speaking the truth, though he
had been instrumental in bringing the matter about. He had previously
paid a visit to Socrat, and, broaching the subject of the cold
feeling between the two teachers had suggested that it would be a
fine thing if Mr. Socrat would say he was sorry for it, and would do
all in his power to heal the breach.
It was no easy task to bring this about, but Jack had a winning way
with him, and really made the Frenchman believe it was more a favor
on his part to apologize than it was of Mr. Garlach to accept it. In
the end Professor Socrat had agreed to write a little note to his
former enemy.
"Only I know not ze Germaine language," he said.
"That's all right, I'll do it for you," said Jack. "I can fix it up."
"Then write ze note and I sign heem," said the Frenchman.
"So he vill my pardon ask, iss it?" inquired Mr. Garlach when Jack
had explained to him.
"I believe that's his intention. Why can't you two meet out in the
chapel and fix things up. Exchange letters so to speak. He's going to
write to you in German, and you can write to him in French."
"I know not de silly tongue!" grunted Mr. Garlach.
"I'll write it for you," Jack said, turning aside his head to conceal
a grin. "I'm pretty good at French."
"Den you may do so," said Mr. Garlach. "I haf no objections to
accepting his apologies, and being friends mit him."
"Then here's the note," said Jack, handing over one he had prepared.
"Sign it and be in the chapel in ten minutes. Mr. Socrat will be
there, and we'll have a sort of farewell service."
"Fine!" exclaimed the German. "Und we vill sing 'Der Wacht am
Rhein!'"
"And maybe the 'Marseilles,' too," added Jack softly as he went to
deliver a note written in German to Mr. Socrat. The missives had cost
him and the other boys no little thought.
"Now, you fellows want to lay low if you expect to see the fun,"
cautioned Jack to his chums, when he returned and told of his
success. "Garlach and Socrat will be here in about ten minutes. There
must be only a few of us around. Bony, I'll depend on you to act when
I give the signal."
"I'll be there," promised Bony.
A little later all but a few of the boys had concealed themselves
behind benches in the chapel. Jack was out of sight but could see
what was going on, A few students stood conversing in one corner.
Mr. Socrat was the first to enter. He came in, holding a note in his
hand.
"It is now zat I prove ze politeness of ze French," he murmured.
A moment later Mr. Garlach entered from the other side.
"Goot effning, Herr Socrates," he said, with a stiff bow.
"Bon jour!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat. "Only, if it pleases you my dear
Professor Garlick, my name ees wizout ze final syllable."
"Und mine it iss Garla-a-ach, und not like de leek vat you eat!"
exclaimed the German.
"They're off!" said Jack in a whisper to Sam.
"Your pardon!" came from Mr. Socrat. "I am in error. But I have here
a note in which I wish to greet you wiz the happiness of parting. It
iss in your own language!"
"Ach! So! I too have a missive for you," went on Mr. Garlach,
somewhat modified. "It iss in your tongue as I belief, but I am not
so goot in it as perhaps you are."
"It is charming of you," spoke Mr. Socrat, bowing low. The two
professors exchanged notes, and then stepped over to a flaring
gaslight where they could read them.
"Now watch out!" exclaimed Jack.
"Ha!" cried the German. "Vas ist dis?"
"Pah!" cried Mr. Socrat. "Diable! I am insult!"
"Dot Frenchman iss von pig-hog!" came from Mr. Garlach.
"See! So I will treat ze writair!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat, tearing the
note to shreds and stamping on the pieces.
"I vill crush the frog-eater as I do dis letter!" muttered Mr.
Garlach, as he twisted the slip of paper into a shapeless mass and
tossed it into the air.
"Scoundrel!" hissed Mr. Socrat
"Vile dog vat you iss!" came from Mr. Garlach.
Then, unable to restrain their feelings any longer they rushed at
each other.
"Ready!" called Jack, and the next instant the lights went out,
leaving the chapel in darkness.