They were then admitted in single file into the vestibule, which was
absolutely dark. As each one stepped in, a hand was laid on each arm
and he was requested in a whisper to "Come this way." Between his two
escorts he stumbled along through the dark, until suddenly the door
was heard to close, and the key to snap in the lock; then immediately
his mouth was covered with a boxing-glove (borrowed from the
gymnasium), his feet were kicked out from under him, and before he
knew it his two courteous escorts had their knees in the small of his
back and were tying him hand and foot.
One or two of the Crows put up a good fight, and managed to squirm
away from the gagging boxing-gloves and let out a yelp; but the heavy
door of the gymnasium kept the secret mum, and there was something so
surprising about the ambuscade in the dark that the Dozen soon had the
half-dozen securely gagged and fettered. Then they were toted like
meal-bags up the stairs of the chapel, and on up and up into the loft,
and into the bell-tower. There they were laid out on the floor, and
their angry eyes discovered that they were left to the tender mercies
of Reddy and Heady. The only light was a lantern, and Reddy and Heady
each carried an Indian club (also borrowed from the gymnasium), and
with this they promised to tap any of the Crows on the head if he made
the slightest disturbance.
The ten other Lakerimmers hastened down to the ground floor again just
in time to welcome the earliest of the Crows to arrive. This was a
fellow who had always believed up to this time in being punctual; but
he was very much discouraged in this excellent habit by the reception
he got at the gymnasium. For, on saying, in answer to the voice behind
the door, that he had the honor of being a Crow, he was ushered in and
treated to the same knock-down hospitality that had been meted out to
the Committee of Six.
The wisdom of using the words "after dark" on the forged invitation
was soon made evident, because the Crows did not come all at once,
but gradually, by ones and twos, every few minutes between seven and
half-past. In this way eleven more of the Crows were taken in. These
were bundled down into the dark cellar, and stowed away in groups of
three or four in three of the compartments of the cellar, each with a
guard armed with a lantern and an Indian club.
By a quarter to eight the Lakerimmers believed that they had accounted
for all of the twenty-four Crows except the president, MacManus. Six
had left town, six were stowed aloft in the cupola, and eleven were,
as B.J., the sailor, expressed it, "below hatches." Five of the Dozen
were posted as guards, and that left seven to go out upon the war-path
and bring in the chief of the Ravens.
He had felt his dignity too great to permit him to take two meals in
one evening; besides, he was very solemnly engaged in preparing a
speech to deliver at the banquet; and his task was very difficult,
since he had to make a great splurge about the glories of the
campaign, without reminding every one of the inglorious result of the
attempt to haze the Dozen.
No note had been sent to him, and it seemed necessary to concoct some
scheme to decoy him from his room, because any attempt to drag him out
would probably bring one of the professors down upon the scene.
Tug had an idea; and leaving three of the seven to guard the door,
he took the other three and hurried to the dormitory where MacManus
roomed, and threw pebbles against his window. The chief Crow soon
stuck his head out and peered down into the dark, asking what was the
matter. A voice that he did not recognize--or suspect--came out of the
blackness to inform him that some of the Crows were in trouble at the
gymnasium, and he must come at once.
After waiting a moment they saw his light go out and heard his feet
upon the stairs, for he had lost no time in stuffing into his pocket
the notes for his address at the banquet, and flying to the rescue of
the captive banqueters. As soon as he stepped out of the door of the
dormitory, History's knit muffler was wrapped around his mouth, and he
was seized and hustled along toward the gymnasium.
Tug felt a strong desire to inflict punishment then and there upon
the man who had tortured him when he was helpless, but that was not
according to the Lakerim code. Another idea, however, which was quite
as cruel, but had the saving grace of fun, suggested itself to him,
and he said to the others, when they had reached the gymnasium:
"I'll tell you what, fellows--"
"What?" said the reunited seven, in one breath.
"Instead of putting MacManus with the rest of 'em, let's take him
along and make him look on while we eat the Crows' banquet."
"Make him 'eat crow' himself, you mean," suggested Jumbo.
The idea appealed strongly to the Lakerimmers, who, after all, were
human, and couldn't help, now and then, enjoying the misery of those
who had made them miserable. While MacManus was securely held by two
of the Dozen, Sawed-Off and Tug went to the cupola to summon the
Twins. The knots with which the "cummitty" were tied were carefully
looked to and strengthened, and then the Lakerimmers withdrew from the
cupola, taking the lantern with them, dragging a heavy trap-door over
their heads as they descended the ladder, and then taking the ladder
away and laying it on the floor. They hurried down the stairs then,
and went to the cellar, looking alive again to the fetters of the
Crows, and closing and barring the heavy wooden doors between the
compartments as securely as they could.
They came up the stairs, and put down and bolted the cellar door, and
moved upon it with great difficulty the parallel bars with their iron
supports, from the gymnasium, and several 25-pound dumb-bells, as well
as the heavy vaulting-horse. Reddy and Heady were in favor also of
blocking up the narrow little windows set high in the walls of the
cellar, well over the head of the tallest of the Crows; but Tug said
that these windows were necessary for ventilation, and History was
reminded of the Black Hole of Calcutta, so it was decided to leave the
windows open for the sake of the air, even if it did give the Crows a
loophole of possible escape.
"There's no fun in an affair of this kind if the other side hasn't
even a chance," said Tug; and this appealed to the Lakerim theory of
sport.
X
So they all left the gymnasium with its prisoners, and Sawed-Off
locked the door firmly behind him. Then they went at a double-quick
for Moore's restaurant and the waiting banquet, which, they suspected,
was by this time growing cold.
When MacManus left his room he had thrown on a long ulster overcoat
with a very high collar. When this was turned up about his ears it
completely hid the gag around his mouth, and Tug and Sawed-Off locked
arms with him and hurried him along the poorly lighted streets of
Kingston without fear of detection from any passer-by. MacManus
dragged his feet and refused to go for a time, till Tug and Sawed-Off
hauled him over such rough spots that he preferred to walk. Then,
without warning, when they were crossing a slippery place he pushed
his feet in opposite directions and knocked Sawed-Off's and Tug's feet
out from under them. But inasmuch as all three of them fell in a heap,
with him at the bottom, he decided that this was a poor policy.
The Dozen were soon at Moore's restaurant; and there, at the door,
they found waiting one of the Crows whom they had forgotten to take
into account. He was the fat boy whom Tug and History had seen hazed
just before their turn came, on the eventful night at Roden's Knoll.
Having been hazed, and having been taxed, this boy who was known as
"Fatty" Warner, was entitled to banquet with the Crows; but he
had been invited out to a bigger supper than he could get at the
"Slaughter-house," and so he did not receive his note, and escaped the
fate of the Crows who had been put in cold storage in the gymnasium.
B.J. and Bobbles, however, took him to one side and told him that they
were afraid they would have to tie him up and put him in a corner with
MacManus. But the tears came into his eyes at the thought of sitting
and looking at a feast in which he could not take part, and he
reminded the Lakerimmers that he had had no share in the attack on Tug
and History, and had done nothing to interfere with their escape from
Roden's Knoll, and besides, he had been compelled to pay out his
last cent of spending-money to the Crows for this banquet: So the
Lakerimmers decided to invite him to join them in eating the feast of
the enemy.
Mr. Moore, the proprietor of the village restaurant, had a very bad
memory for faces, and when the Lakerimmers came into the room where
the table was spread, and told him to hurry up with the banquet, it
never occurred to him to ask for a certificate of character from the
guests. He was surprised, however, that there were only twelve men
where he had provided for eighteen or more; but Jumbo said, with a
twinkle in his eye:
"The rest of them couldn't come; so we'll eat their share."
The Lakerimmers grinned at this. Mr. Moore suspected that there was
some joke which he could not understand; but the ways of the Academy
boys were always past his comprehension, so he and the waiters came
bustling in with the first course of just such a banquet as would
please a crowd of academicians, and would give an older person a
stomach-ache for six weeks.
Besides, the wise Mr. Moore knew the little habit students have of
postponing the payment of their bills, and he had insisted upon being
paid in advance. Poor MacManus suddenly remembered how he had doled
out the funds of the Crows for this very spread, and he almost sobbed
as he thought of the hard time he had spent in collecting the money
and preparing the menu--and all for the enjoyment of the hated
Lakerimmers, who had already spoiled the final hazing of the year, and
were now giggling and gobbling the precious banquet provided at such
expense! Mr. Moore wondered at the presence of such a sad-looking
guest at the feast, and wondered why he insisted on abstaining from
the monstrous delicacies that made the tables groan; but he reasoned
that it was none of his affair, and asked no questions.
Before they had eaten much the Lakerimmers grew as uncomfortable over
the torment they were inflicting on poor MacManus as the poor MacManus
was himself. And Tug explained to him in a low voice that if he would
promise on his solemn honor not to make any disturbance they would be
glad to have him as a guest instead of a prisoner. MacManus objected
bitterly for a long time, but the enticing odor drove him almost
crazy, and the sight of the renegade fat boy, who was fairly making
a cupboard of himself, finally convinced the president that it was
better to take his ill fortune with a good grace. So he nodded assent
to the promises Tug exacted of him, his muffler and overcoat were
removed, and he was invited to make himself at home; and his misery
was promptly forgotten in the rattle of dishes and the clatter of
laughter and song with which the Dozen reveled in the feast of its
ancient enemies.
The delight of the Lakerimmers in the banquet was no greater than the
misery of the Crows whose wings had been clipped, and who had been
left to flop about in the dark nooks of the chapel. The feast of the
Dozen had just begun when two of the Crows in the cupola and two
others in the cellar bethought themselves to roll close to each other,
back to back, and untie the knots around each other's wrists. They
were soon free, and quickly had their fellows liberated and the gags
all removed. But the liberty of hands and feet and tongues, though it
left them free to express their rage, still left them as far as ever
from the banquet which, as they soon suspected, was disappearing
rapidly under the teeth of the Lakerimmers. They groped around in the
pitch-black darkness, and finally one of the men in the cupola found a
little round window through which he could put his head and yell for
help. His cry was soon answered by another that seemed to come faintly
from the depths of the earth.