WHAT HAPPENED TO JACK
The cadets of Putnam Hall were soon seated for supper. This was usually
a plain but substantial meal, and generally all the boys ate well.
Jack marched in at the head of the battalion and took his seat. A minute
later he reached for his glass of water. He was thirsty and drank half
the contents of the glass before stopping. As he placed the tumbler back
on the table he made a wry face.
“That water isn’t good,” he observed to Dale, who sat close to him.
“Perhaps it’s the ice in it,” answered Dale. “I thought yesterday the
ice had a peculiar flavor.”
“That may be it,” went on the young major. Then he started to eat and
thought no more of the water. But before he had finished the meal he
drained the glass and called for more. Somewhat to his surprise the
second glass of water tasted much better.
“That’s queer,” he mused. “Maybe there was something in that first
glass, although I didn’t see anything. Perhaps one of the fellows put a
little salt in, just for fun.” Then he dismissed the subject from his
mind.
Word had been passed around that the young major was to meet Reff Ritter
in the gymnasium and a crowd of students collected to witness the
proposed contest. Jack went down with Pepper and his other chums.
“How do you feel for the trial?” questioned Pepper.
“All right,” was the reply.
“Hope you didn’t eat enough to make you lazy,” came from Andy.
“Sure, an’ ye can thrust Jack to take care av himself,” broke in
Emerald. “He’ll beat Ritter all to pieces, so he will!”
Reff Ritter came down with Paxton and Coulter, and lost no time in
getting into his “gym. togs,” as the cadets called their athletic
outfits. Jack speedily followed.
“Who is to go at it first?” asked Joe Nelson.
“That is for Dave Kearney to decide. He is to be referee and judge.”
“You can toss up a cent for it,” said Dave. This was done, and Reff
Ritter obtained first chance to show what he could do. Each contestant
was to have three chances.
Ritter leaped up on the flying-rings, and amid utter silence gave an
exhibition lasting fully five minutes. As my old readers know, he was
really quite a gymnast, and what he did brought forth considerable
applause.
“Now, Jack, show us what you can do,” said Pepper, as the young major
stepped to the front.
Jack leaped up and grasped the rings. He had been feeling very good, but
now a strange sleepiness seemed to be overtaking him. He began to swing
and to do various acts done by Ritter, but his efforts were, by
comparison, awkward and clumsy.
“What’s the matter with Major Ruddy?”
“That isn’t half as good as what Ritter did.”
“Jack doesn’t seem to be on his mettle at all to-night,” whispered
Stuffer to Pepper.
“Brace up, Jack, old boy, and show ’em what you can really do!” cried
Pepper, encouragingly.
Jack heard the cries and did all he could to throw off that sleepy
feeling. By sheer willpower he made a brilliant turn or two which called
for hearty applause.
“That’s the way to do it!”
As Jack dropped to the floor Reff Ritter again mounted, and now the
bully “put in his best licks.” There was cheering and hand-clapping.
Ritter had already been awarded the first trial, and now it looked as if
he would win the second also.
“Now, Jack, brace up and show ’em what you can do when your mind is on
it,” said Pepper.
“You can do better than he did, I am sure you can,” said Andy. “Don’t go
at it quite so slowly.”
“I—I’m feeling unusually dull to-night,” answered the young major. “I
really don’t know what to make of it.”
“Maybe you had better postpone the affair, then?” said Stuffer.
“This isn’t going to be postponed!” cried Coulter, who heard the remark.
“Humph!” murmured Pepper. “Are you running this affair?”
“No, but Ritter is winning, and Jack Ruddy has no right to withdraw.”
“I am not going to withdraw,” answered Jack, gritting his teeth. “I am
going ahead, and I am going to win.”
He sprang to the flying-rings and began to swing strongly. Then he made
a turn and tried to make another. All at once everything seemed to dance
before his eyes. He felt his grip relaxing. Then all became dark, and he
felt himself falling—falling—falling—and he knew no more.
“What’s the matter with Jack?”
“He is falling!”
“Catch him!”
Such were some of the cries which rang through the gymnasium as the
young major was seen to let go with one hand, swing limply for a few
seconds, and then let go with the other. Pepper, Andy, and Dale rushed
forward, and between them they broke the fall that otherwise might have
proved serious.
“He has fainted!” said Pepper. “Let us carry him into the open air,” and
this was done.
“I guess he is only shamming,” grunted Gus Coulter.
“That’s it,” added Paxton. “He was afraid of losing.”
“Major Ruddy isn’t that kind of a boy, and if you say he is I’ll punch
your head!” exclaimed Dale, indignantly.
“Sure, an’ something is wrong wid him,” was Hogan’s comment. “He’s as
pale as a ghost, so he is!”
Jack was placed on a bench outside of the gymnasium, and while Pepper
ran for some water Andy fanned him vigorously. In the meantime, some
small boys ran off to tell Mr. Strong and Captain Putnam of what had
occurred.
“Jack! Jack!” cried Pepper, bending over his chum. “Jack, what is the
matter with you?”
But Jack did not answer. His eyes were closed and now his arms and legs
seemed to be getting stiff.
“This is something more than a mere faint,” said Stuffer. “I think we
had better call Captain Putnam.”
“Here he comes now,” said Bart Conners. “Mr. Strong is with him.”
“What is the trouble here?” demanded the master of the Hall, as he and
his assistant came up almost on the run.
“Something is wrong with Jack,” explained Pepper. “He was on the
flying-rings—in a contest with Ritter, when all of a sudden he acted
queer-like and fell.”
“Perhaps he had a rush of blood to the head,” suggested Mr. Strong.
“He didn’t act like that,” said Dale.
As Jack showed no signs of reviving, he was carried to the Hall, and
Peleg Snuggers was sent off for Doctor Fremley, of Cedarville, who was
the regular school physician. In the meantime Captain Putnam did what he
could for the sufferer. His army experience had taught him a great deal,
yet he was much puzzled by the case before him.
“I cannot understand this,” he said to George Strong. “He looked to be
the picture of health this afternoon.”
“I know it, sir,” answered the assistant teacher.
“Maybe he ate or drank something that didn’t agree with him,” suggested
Andy.
“He complained of the water at supper,” came from Dale. “I told him it
might be the ice in it.”
“Our ice is of the best,” answered Captain Putnam. “It may have been the
food, but if so, why has not somebody else been taken sick?”
After what seemed to be an unusually long time, Doctor Fremley appeared.
He had driven at top speed to the Hall, and the team was covered with
lather. By this time Jack had been removed to a private bedroom and
undressed. He lay like a log, breathing heavily.
The physician was almost as much puzzled as were the others. But acting
on the theory that Jack might have been poisoned by something he had
eaten the doctor used a stomach pump. This brought up something of a
peculiar bluish color, which surprised the medical man a great deal. He
nodded his head knowingly and then proceeded to give Jack a dose of
medicine from the little case he carried. In a short while the young
major gasped loudly and opened his eyes.
“What is it, doctor?” asked the master of the Hall.
“I am not quite sure, but it looks to me like an overdose of French
headache powders.”
“You mean the Saligne preparation?”
“Yes—then you know it?”
“I have some in our medicine closet.”
“Could this young man get at the stuff?”
“Yes. I will go and see if the box has been tampered with,” continued
Captain Putnam and hurried off. He came back quickly.
“Well?” queried the physician.
“The box is gone.”
“You are sure you had it?”
“Positive. I gave a small dose to one of the servant girls only night
before last. She complained of a severe headache, and it aided her in
getting to sleep.”
“I see. Well, this looks as if this young man had gotten the box and
taken an overdose.”
“Will he get over it?”
“Yes. But, let me add, he has had a close call from death. If I had not
used the pump and given him that medicine to counteract the effect of
the powder he might never have regained consciousness.”
This plain statement from Doctor Fremley made all present shudder.
“I don’t see why Jack should take the powder,” said Pepper. “He didn’t
say anything to me about a headache. He told me he was feeling fine.”
“And he told me the same thing,” declared Dale.
“Perhaps he was a bit nervous over this gymnastic contest and thought to
quiet his nerves,” suggested George Strong. “But I must admit that
doesn’t look like Major Ruddy. I never knew him to be nervous.”
“He doesn’t know what nervousness means,” declared Andy. “If he took the
powder I guess he did it by mistake. Maybe he thought it was for
indigestion, or something like that.”
While this talk was going on in the bedroom, Reff Ritter was downstairs
in the library, surrounded by a number of his friends. The bully was ill
at ease. He had not expected the grave turn affairs had taken. Jack was
certainly in bad shape. What if the young major should die? A shiver ran
down Ritter’s backbone, which he tried in vain to conceal.
“What’s the matter, are you cold?” asked Coulter.
“No, I—er—I’m a little upset,” answered the bully.
“Well, you needn’t be,” declared Paxton. “It wasn’t your fault that
Ruddy fainted and fell.”
“Oh, I know that.”
“It’s a pity he had to faint,” went on Coulter. “You would have won that
contest beyond the shadow of a doubt.”
“Oh, I know that,” answered Reff Ritter, listlessly. He hardly heard
what was said—his mind was in the bedroom where Jack lay. He wanted to
go up—to learn the actual truth—but he did not dare.
“Shall we go back to the gym.?” asked Paxton.
“No, I—er—I think I’ll go up to my room,” answered Ritter, and started
for the doorway before anybody could stop him. The others had never seen
him act so strangely, and they looked at each other in surprise.
Ritter gained the hallway just as Billy Sabine was coming down the
stairs. Sabine was greatly excited.
“What’s the news?” asked the bully.
“Ruddy took an overdose of headache powders,” was the reply. “The doctor
is working over him, but they all think he is going to die.”
“Die!” gasped Reff Ritter, hoarsely. Then he staggered backward,
clutched at the stair-rail, and sank heavily on a nearby seat.