FUN ON THE BOAT
At the city of Ithaca the boys stopped long enough to get dinner, and
were here joined by Fred Garrison and George Granbury, two more of
their old school chums.
"Hurrah for the gathering of the clans!" cried George Granbury, with a
beaming face. "This is like a touch of old times. How are all of you,
anyway?"
"First rate, with the exception of Hans here," said Tom. "He's got the
buckwheat measles."
"Yah, und Tom he's got der jipperjocker fefer," declared the German
boy, bound to do his best to get square.
"Good for Hans!" cried Sam. "Tom, after this, you have got to take
care, or Hansie will roast you."
"Oh, Hans is just all right," observed Tom, and when the German boy's
face was turned away he took the latter's coffee and put into it about
a teaspoonful of salt. "Tell you what, fellows, this coffee just
touches the spot," he added loudly.
"Right you are," said Fred Garrison. "Never tasted better in my life."
So far Hans had not touched the coffee, but hearing the words he took
up his cup and downed a deep draught. It may be added that he was a
German who loved coffee a good deal, and frequently drank several cups
at a meal.
For an instant the German youth said nothing. Then his face turned
pale.
"Dat coffee was no goot!" he gasped.
"Why, Hans," cried several.
"See how pale he is getting," came from George Granbury. "Hans, are you
going to die?
"Don't say the coffee is going to poison him," burst out Tom. "I was
reading about poison getting into the coffee at this hotel last week.
But, of course--"
"Did da got poison py der coffee in here?" demanded Hans.
"To be sure, put--"
"How vos dot poisoned coffee taste annahow?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"I think it was a little salty," came from Fred Garrison.
"Mine cracious me! Of dot's so I vos poisoned, sure. Run for der toctor
kvick!"
"Here, eat some jam, Hans. That will counteract the effect of
the poison," said Tom, and handed over a small dish with jam in it,
over which he had just sprinkled the pepper with an exceedingly liberal
hand.
Anxious to do anything that would stop him from being poisoned, the
German boy clutched the dish and took a large spoonful of the jam. But
as he gulped it, he gave a gasp, and the tears started down his cheeks.
"_Du meine zeit!_" he bawled. "I vos purnt up alife by mine mouth
alretty! Dake it avay kvick!" And jumping up from the table he began to
dance around madly.
"It's a serious case," said Tom. "If he's burning up we had better call
out the fire department."
This remark made Hans grow suddenly suspicious. He caught up Tom's cup
of coffee and tasted it.
"I know you, Tom Rofer," he said. "Dot vos more dricks of yours, ain't
it?" He held the cup of coffee on high. "How you like dot, hey!" And
splash! down came the coffee on Tom's head, and trickled down his back.
"Hi, you! let up!" roared Tom, and knocked the half-empty cup to one
side. "Let up, I say, or I'll have the landlord put you out."
"I told you to take care, Tom," came from Sam, when the other boys had
restored quietness. "When Hans gets his dander up he is dangerous."
"Dot is drue," came from Hans. "I vonts no more of them chokes
alretty." And then, as the waiter came hurrying up, he forced Tom to
order him another cup of coffee, and took good care to keep it out of
the fun-loving youth's reach. Poor Tom sopped away the spilt coffee as
best he could, but it must be admitted that for the balance of that day
his backbone felt none too comfortable. Yet he bore no grudge towards
Hans, for he knew that he had deserved the punishment meted out to him.
Down at the dock the boys found the _Golden Star_, a trim little
side-wheeler, ready to take them up the lake. There were about half a
hundred passengers, bound for various landings, and among them six
Putnam Hall scholars, including our old-time acquaintances, Jack
Powell, generally called Songbird Powell, because of his habit of
composing poems and songs, and that aristocratic young gentleman who
rejoiced in the name of William Philander Tubbs.
"The family is surely getting together," remarked Dick, after another
handshaking had been indulged in. "Songbird, do you warble as much as
ever?"
"You can wager a sweet potato he does," said George Granbury. "Nothing
short of a cyclone will ever stop Songbird's warbling, eh, Songbird?"
For reply the youth addressed turned a pair of dreamy eyes on the
speaker, and then said slowly:
"With hopeful hearts
And brightest faces,
To school we go
To fill our places.
We'll study hard,
And do our best--"
"If Songbird Powell
Will give us a rest!"
finished Tom. "Oh, Songbird, have mercy on us, and don't begin so early."
"You're a good one to preach, Tom," came from Larry. "Started to joke
the moment we met him, didn't he, Hans?"
"Did I?" questioned Tom innocently. "I had forgotten." He turned to
Tubbs. "And how is our friend Philliam Willander to-day?"
"William Philander, if you please, Rover," was the dignified reply. "I
must insist on your getting my name correctly this term."
"All right, Tubby, old boy, it shall be just as you say. I wouldn't
hurt your feelings for a big red apple."
"Then, please don't call me Tubby. You know my real name is William
Philander Tubbs."
"Don't you want Esquire tacked to it, too?"
"That is hardly necessary as yet. But you may write it after my name,
if you have occasion to send me any written communication," continued
Tubbs, with greater dignity than ever.
"Phew! but Tubby is worse than he was before," whispered Sam to Dick.
"They must have been tuning him up at home."
"Tubbs is going to try for a captaincy this term," said Powell, who had
not minded Tom's interruption of his versification in the least.
"Hurrah for Captain Tubbs!" cried Tom. "Captain, allow me to salute
you," and he made a sweeping bow to the deck. Tom spoke so earnestly
that Tubbs was pleased, and instantly forgot their little differences.
"I shall be pleased to become a captain," said the young gentleman. "I
feel I can fill the position with credit to myself and dignity to the
academy. There is military blood in my veins, for a second cousin on my
mother's side was a lieutenant in the Civil War. Besides that, I have
studied military movements at West Point, where I went to see the
cadets drill."
"Do you know how to swab out a cannon?" asked Sam, with a wink at the
others.
"I shouldn't--ah--care for such dirty work," replied William Philander
Tubbs with dignity.
"Or police a camp?"
"Surely you don't think I was ever a policeman?"
"Don't you remember what policing a camp is?" asked George Granbury.
"Upon my honor, I do not."
"It means to clean up the streets, burn up the rubbish, and all that."
"Thank you, but I do not--ah--care to become a street cleaner," returned
Tubbs, with great dignity.
"Sorry, but I'm afraid you are not cut out for a corporalship," came
from Tom.
"I didn't say a corporalship, Tom, I said--"
"Excuse me, I meant a sergeantship."
"No, I said--"
"Make it a second lieutenantship, then, Tubby. Anything to be friends,
you know."
"I said--"
"Oh, bother, if you want to be a major-general, go ahead. Nobody will
stop you."
"Hurrah, Major-General Tubbs!" cried Sam. "That sounds well, doesn't
it, fellows?"
"We'll have to present him with a tin-plated sword," came from one of
the crowd.
"And a pair of yellow worsted epaulets," added another.
And then Songbird Powell began to sing softly:
"Rub a dub, dub!
Here comes General Tubb!
He'll make you bow to the ground!
You must stop ev'ry lark,
And toe the chalk mark,
As soon as he comes around."
"There you are, Tubby; think of Songbird composing a poem in your
honor," cried Tom. "You ought to present him with a leather medal."
"I--I don't like such--er--such doggerel," cried William Philander Tubbs
angrily. "I think--"
"Well, I never!" ejaculated Tom, in pretended astonishment. "And
Songbird worked so hard over it, too! Thus doth genius receive its
reward. Songbird, if I were you, I'd give up writing poems, and go turn
railroad president, track-walker, or something like that."
"You boys are simply horrid, don't you know!" cried Tubbs, and, pushing
his way through the crowd, he walked to the other end of the boat.
"Being away from school hasn't done Tubby any good," was Fred
Garrison's remark. "He thinks he's the High Tum-Tum, and no mistake."
"Don't fret, he'll be taken down before the term is over," came from
Larry Colby.
"That's true," added another pupil, who had been taken down himself two
terms before. "And when he hits his level he'll be just as good as any
of us."
The time on the steamer passed quickly enough, and after several stops
along the lake, the Golden Star turned in at the Cedarville landing,
and all of the Putnam Hall cadets went ashore.