WHAT A RUNAWAY LED TO
The news that Roger had been robbed while unconscious spread rapidly,
and many were the speculations as to who had done the wicked deed.
"I suppose it was somebody who just happened to come along," said Dave.
"But what a mean thing to do! That person did not know but that Roger
was dying, and made no effort to assist him!"
Roger's story was a brief one. How long he had remained unconscious
he did not know. He came to his senses with a shiver, to find himself
lying on some rocks under one end of the stone bridge. The lower
portion of his body was wet and the chill had aided in reviving him.
When he felt strong enough he had crawled up to the road and looked for
his motor cycle. Not finding the machine, he had started for Oak Hall
on foot. He felt himself growing weaker every step and fell prostrate,
as already described, just as Dave and Ben discovered him.
"I am awfully glad you came along," said the senator's son to his two
chums. "I don't know what I should have done if you hadn't."
"And you didn't know a thing about being robbed, then?" queried Ben.
"No, all I knew was that I was cold and as weak as a sick cat," was the
answer.
A hunt was made for the robber, and the students spent several hours in
searching around the spot. Nothing was found, and the local authorities
were notified.
This robbery, coupled with those that had gone before, aroused the
whole community. Many felt that they were no longer safe in their
homes, and a meeting was held in Oakdale and a reward of two hundred
dollars put up by the citizens for the capture and conviction of the
offenders.
"I will get a private detective to look into this," said Dr. Clay
and did so. The detective, a quiet-looking individual named Merivel,
arrived the next day and went to work immediately. But the task proved
too much for him, and inside of a week he gave it up.
"I reckon I am out my machine and my valuables," said Roger, who was
around once more and as well as ever. "But I do wish I could lay hands
on the rascal who went through me!"
The days slipped by, and again Dave and his chums devoted themselves to
their studies. It was now growing colder and there was a suggestion of
snow in the air.
"It won't be long before we have snow and ice," said Sam. "Hurrah for
some fine skating!"
"And snowballing," added Buster. "Don't forget the fun we had last
year."
"How we did pelt Pop Swingly!"
"And old Haskers!"
"You've got to be careful what you do to Haskers," said Shadow. "He is
just watching for a chance to get somebody into trouble."
"Do you remember how Dave beat Plum in that race on the ice?" said
Roger. "That was great!"
"By the way, Plum is cutting quite a dash again," said Buster. "His
father must have sent him a lot of spending money."
"Then he can pay up those bets I heard about," said Macklin.
"He has paid them up, so I was told," replied another student. "But
I'll wager it made him mad to do so."
"He had no business to bet against his own school," said Sam. "It was a
mean piece of business. I've cut him dead for doing it."
What was said about Gus Plum having money was true. He had paid all his
debts and in addition had spent several dollars in having a so-called
"good time" with Jasniff and Poole in a tavern on the outskirts of
Rockville. But he was not particularly happy, if one was to judge by
the worried and scared look that often showed itself on his face. At
times it looked as if he wanted to draw away from Nick Jasniff, but
that student clung to him closer than ever.
One Friday afternoon Dave, Roger, and Ben got out of school a little
early and resolved to walk to Oakdale, just for the exercise and to
buy a few things of trifling importance. They were soon on the way,
and arriving at the town lost no time in making their purchases. In
Oakdale they met Mrs. Fairchild and asked her if she had heard anything
concerning the robbery at her house.
"Not a thing," said the widow; "and I suppose I never shall."
With their purchases in their pockets, the students left the town and
started on the return to the academy. As it was nipping cold, they
walked rapidly, only stopping on the way to pick up some chestnuts
which were handy.
Each had his pocket filled with chestnuts, when all heard a commotion
around a bend of the road.
"What's that?" questioned Dave, looking ahead.
"Sounds like a runaway!" exclaimed Ben.
"If it is we had better be getting out of the way," said Roger. "I have
no desire to be run over."
The noise came closer and from a distance they heard a man shouting
wildly.
"Sthop! Sthop, I said! Vot you vants to run avay for, annahow?"
"It's Zumm, the baker!" cried Dave. "His horse must be running away!"
The sounds of hoofs could now be distinguished, and in a moment more
the steed came in sight, dragging a baker's wagon behind him. The
vehicle swayed from side to side, threatening to go over any instant.
"Look out!"
"He is running away and no mistake!"
"Where is Zumm?"
"He must have been thrown out!"
Nearer and nearer came the frightened horse. He was less than a hundred
feet away when he swerved to one side, running two of the wheels of the
wagon into some low bushes.
"I am going to stop him if I can!" cried Dave, with sudden
determination.
Before Ben or Roger could stop him he was out in the road and leaping
for the head of the frightened horse. He caught hold of the bridle and
hung fast.
"You'll be killed, Dave!"
"Don't go under his feet!"
"Sthop him, sthop him!" came from the German baker who owned the
outfit. He was running after the horse and wagon as rapidly as his
somewhat bulky form permitted.
Dave paid no attention to the cries but clung fast. The horse did a
good deal of dancing and prancing but it was of no avail. Finally he
backed into the bushes until the back of the wagon struck a tree, and
there he remained, trembling violently in every limb.
"Good for you, Dave!" sang out Ben, in admiration. "I must say, you
know exactly how to handle a horse."
"Pick up those lines," panted Dave, and stepping forward, Roger did so.
Then Ben came up on the other side of the frightened animal and soon
they had the horse completely subdued and standing quiet.
"Is he--is he all right, yes?" panted the German baker, coming up all
out of breath.
"I think so," answered Dave. "He had a big scare, though."
"Yah, dot's so."
"What made him go off?"
"Noddings but a biece of baber in der road. Ven he see dot, he got so
oxcitements like neffer vos alretty!"
"Did he throw you out?" asked Ben.
"No, I vos got out to bick up some chestnuts, and I let him valk along
py himselluf. Den all to vonce he kicks up his heels and runds avay
kvick! Next dime ven I go avay I ton't let him alone a minute!"
The German baker was anxious concerning his stock in trade, and while
the boys continued to hold the horse he climbed into the wagon to look
after his bread, and pastries.
"Chust vot I dink!" he groaned. "Dem nice cakes vos all cracked
alretty! Now vot I got to do, tole me dot?"
"Cracked cakes?" queried Roger, with a grin.
"Yah. You see, I vos make some nice cakes for Mrs. Dill's barty. Da vos
sphoiled and now I haf to make more."
"Don't throw them away," said Dave. "We'll eat a cracked cake any day."
"So? All right, my poys. You do me a favor to sthop mine horse, I vos
gif you der cakes, yes," answered Mr. Zumm.
He was a liberal-hearted man and without delay brought out several
large cakes, somewhat crushed and broken but still well worth eating.
The sight of such good things set Dave to thinking.
"Fellows, I've got an idea!" he said. "Let's buy Mr. Zumm's cakes and
pies and have a feast to-night!"
"Just the thing!" came from both Ben and Roger.
"I not sell you dem cakes," said the baker, when the matter was
explained to him. "You vos goot poys, yes, and I like you. I gif you
four pig cakes, mit der pastepoard poxes to carry dem in."
"Thanks, you are very kind," said Dave, and the others said the same.
They insisted, however, upon purchasing several pies, and also some
chocolate éclairs. The goodies were put into several pasteboard boxes,
and then the boys hurried off towards the Hall and Mr. Zumm resumed his
journey to town.
The three boys had some little difficulty in getting into Oak Hall with
their pasteboard boxes. They were going up a back stairs when Nat Poole
caught sight of them.
"Hello, something doing, I'll be bound!" said Poole to himself. "Guess
I'll watch and see what it means!"
He crouched out of sight in a dark angle of the hallway and allowed
Dave, Roger, and Ben to pass him. Then, when the dormitory door was
closed, Nat Poole tiptoed up to it.
"Put the cakes on the top shelf," he heard Dave say. "The pies can go
over in that corner."
"A spread!" murmured Nat Poole to himself.
"I don't think we ought to start too early," came in Ben's voice. "Let
us make it exactly midnight just for the fun of the thing."
"That suits me," answered the senator's son. "Who is to be invited?"
This was talked over, and it was decided to ask all the inmates of
Dormitories No. 11 and 12 and also a few of the students in No. 8,
including Henshaw and Babcock.
"But we want to be very quiet about it," cautioned Dave. "If Haskers
should hear of it, he'd make all the trouble he could for us."
"Mum's the word, and I'll tell the other fellows so," answered Roger.
"Don't let Plum, or Poole, or Jasniff get an inkling of this,"
cautioned Ben. "They would like nothing better than to spoil our fun."
"Yes, we certainly must be careful of that crowd," answered Dave.
The three boys remained in the dormitory for quarter of an hour,
talking matters over and making their arrangements for the midnight
feast, and Nat Poole took in every word that was said. Then, as Dave,
Ben, and Roger started to come out into the hallway, Poole ran off and
managed to get down into the dining hall ahead of them.
"I've got news," he whispered to Gus Plum, who sat beside him. "I'll
tell you all about it after supper."
"What kind of news?" questioned the bully.
"About a feast. The Porter crowd expects to pull off something big
to-night, and I know exactly how we can block their game and land them
in all kinds of trouble!"