HOW SAM TOLD IT
For a few seconds there was silence in Tom's room. All eyes were fixed
on Bruce Bennington, but the latter bore the scrutiny well. Then came
gasps of surprise, and one or two mutterings. Bruce heard them, and
smiled.
"Come!" he invited with a laugh. "Out with it. I know what you are
thinking. Speak up, Tom--and the rest of you."
"Did you--did you really mean that?" asked Tom slowly, "or was it a
joke?"
"It wasn't a joke, certainly. I'm in earnest," and the smile faded
from the face of Bruce Bennington.
"But what do you mean?" insisted Tom. "After the way those fellows
treated Jack and Bert--to say nothing of having practically stolen my
motorboat, together with the help of the old hermit and Mr. Skeel--not
to do anything to 'em!"
"That's it, Tom. Let it drop, is my advice."
"But why? I can't see why, Bruce."
"Because it will make a heap of trouble in the school, that's why.
Look here, Tom. You know you and Sam, to say nothing of Nick, haven't
been on good terms from the start; have you?"
"No, but it was Sam's fault. I had no quarrel with him."
"I know that. I'm not saying but what you're in the right. But it's
the effect of the thing I'm looking at. Tom, do you want to see two
factions in the Sophomore class? Two bunches of fellows, one striving
against the other? Do you?"
"No, I don't know as I do. But once we get rid of Sam, Nick will take
himself off, too, and then everything will be fine."
"I'm not so sure of that. You might drive Sam out of Elmwood, but I
doubt it. And look here, Tom. You know there's going to be a big
Freshman class this year."
"So I heard, but what has that got to do with it?"
"Lots. You know, without my telling you, that the Sophs and Freshies
are mortal enemies. There'll be hazing to do--whisper it of
course--and with the Sophomore class divided against itself, where are
you second-year chaps going to be when the Freshies cut up--let me ask
you that?"
"How will the class be divided?" inquired Jack.
"Why, if you make this fight against Sam you can't expect his friends
to hob-nob with you when it comes to hectoring the Freshies."
"Sam hasn't any friends!" burst out Bert.
"Oh, don't you fool yourself," said Bruce quickly. "Sam has money, and
no fellow with cash need be without friends--or at least fellows who
call themselves such. Then, too, he's got a big car I understand, and
that will go a great ways toward making friends for him. Besides,
there's Nick to count on. His friends will be Sam's, and Nick has
quite a few, as he isn't such a bully as Sam is. Nick's a Junior now,
and the Juniors will side with the Freshmen.
"Now I don't want to be a croaker, or a death's head at this gay party,
but you mark my words, if you carry this fight against Sam to the limit
it will mean a heap of trouble for the school. And, more than that,
the Sophomore class will be torn apart.
"Don't do it!" pleaded Bruce, arising in his earnestness, and
addressing Tom's chums. "Let it drop, or, if you feel that you have to
get even, do it some other way. I know it's galling to sit still and
suffer--but think of the school. You owe something to Elmwood Hall!
Besides, I think you'd have your own troubles in getting unanimous
class action against Sam."
"How so?" asked Tom quickly. "As soon as I tell the fellows how mean
he acted they'll vote to send him to Coventry at once, I'll wager. Not
a man will speak to him."
"Don't be so sure," said Bruce quietly. "Tom, I'm going to try a
little experiment, if you'll allow me. I guess all you fellows know
that I'd stick up for my rights as hard as any one; don't you?"
"Sure!" came the quick chorus.
"And I wouldn't stand for any ill-treatment of my friends, or my class.
But I put the school above my own feelings, and my class next. And you
ought to, also, Tom. If you feel that you have to take it out of Sam
and Nick, do it--er--well--say _privately_," and Bruce whispered the
word with a smile.
There was a murmur of understanding.
"But what's the experiment?" asked Tom, curious to know what his friend
would propose.
"It's this," answered Bruce. "If I prove to you that you'd have
trouble in rallying the whole Sophomore class under your banner, Tom,
to take some action against Sam, will you agree to let the matter drop,
for a time, at least?"
Tom did not answer at once. He looked at Bruce, who returned his gaze
steadily. Then, somehow understanding that his friend had a deeper
meaning than he had yet disclosed, our hero replied:
"Go ahead; Bruce. I'm with you. Lead on to the experiment, as you
call it."
"Do you all agree?" inquired the older lad. "Will you let this matter
rest until you hear from Tom again?"
"Sure," answered Jack and Bert, and the others chorused an assent.
"Then you wait until I send for you, Tom," went on the post-graduate
student. "It may take a day or so to get the experiment in shape."
There were murmurs of surprise as Bruce bowed himself out, and some
were still rather in favor of taking summary action against Sam and
Nick. But Tom said:
"No, I've passed my word, and that goes. Bruce knows what he's talking
about, and we'll wait and see what he has up his sleeve. If his
experiment doesn't work, he'll be the first one to admit it, and then
he'll say the bars are down, and we can do as we like."
As he finished there came across the campus the sound of a bell ringing.
"Well, I know what I'm going to do right now, and that is get ready for
grub!" exclaimed Bert. "Sam and Nick can wait for all of me, but I'm
hungry."
Soon a merry party had gathered in the big dining room, for more
students had arrived by later trains, or other conveyances, and Tom and
his chums were kept busy renewing old acquaintances, or making new ones.
"There are a raft of Freshies," commented Jack to his chum, as they
lingered over the dessert. "We'll have our hands full hazing them, all
right!"
"Oh, we can do it," declared Bert. "We always have."
"Humph! We've been Sophs such a terrible long time," murmured Tom with
a smile.
Discipline was rather lax that night, and there was much visiting to
and fro in the rooms. The proctor and the professors were kept busy
registering new students and did not pay much attention to the older
ones, including Tom and his chums, who made merry.
"Oh, you boys!" exclaimed Demosthenes Miller, or "Demy" as he was
called--the studious janitor. "Oh, you boys! Will you ever settle
down?"
"I'm afraid not," replied Tom, as he invaded the lower regions of the
man who attended to the fires, to borrow a long poker. "We want this
for some fun. There's a prof. who has a room just under ours, and he
wears a wig. It's out on the window sill to air, and I think I can
hook it."
"Oh, young gentlemen, don't, I beg of you!" expostulated the janitor.
But they paid no heed to him, and hurried off with the long poker,
while the studious janitor, to drown his apprehension, took up a Latin
book which he was struggling through, endeavoring to educate himself in
the classics.
Tom was engaged in the exciting, if forbidden, sport of trying to lift
the wig of the unfortunate professor from the ledge beneath his room
window, when there came a knock on his door.
"Oh ho!" ejaculated Bruce Bennington, as he entered. "Up to your old
tricks, I see. Well I can't blame you. I did the same thing once.
What are you after, a bottle of pop?"
"A wig," explained Tom, briefly. "Want a try for it?"
"Not me. I've got to walk pretty straight you know. I'm regarded as a
sort of professor now, and I suppose, if I did my strict duty, I'd
report you. But I'm off duty to-night. I say, Tom, are you ready now
for that experiment I spoke of?"
"Sure I am. But--" and Tom looked suggestively at the poker and
motioned downward to where the wig was still reposing.
"We'll get it up while you're gone," said Jack.
"You will not!" cried Tom. "Do you think I want to miss all the fun?
Wait until I get back. Will your experiment take long, Bruce?"
"It may take most of the evening. But the wig will keep, and you may
think up a better plan in regard to it. Why not substitute another for
it while you're at it?"
"By Jove! The very thing!" cried Jack.
"You can get one while you're in town if you like," went on Bruce
dryly, "for I'm going to drag you off to town, Tom."
"Good! I'm with you. Mind now," he cautioned his chums, "don't touch
that wig until I get back."
They promised, and, though wondering what Bruce had in mind, they asked
no questions.
"I guess it's safe to run the guard to-night," remarked Bruce, as he
and Tom crossed the campus on their way to the trolley line running
into Elmwood.
"Oh, sure," assented our hero. "But what's in the wind?"
"I'm going to prove to you that it would be bad policy to make a class
matter of sending Sam to Coventry, or of trying to run him out of the
school. And to do that I invite you to have a little lunch with me in
town."
"All right," assented Tom, wondering what his friend had in store for
him.
A little later they were seated in a private room in one of the Elmwood
restaurants much patronized by the students. Bruce ordered a tasty
little lunch, and they were in the midst of eating it when there came
the sound of several lads entering the next room. There was talk and
laughter, somewhat boisterous, and then a voice exclaimed:
"Sit down, fellows, and make yourselves at home. This is on me and
Nick. We'll have a jolly time, and I'll run you back in my car!"
Tom started. "Sam Heller!" he exclaimed, half rising in his seat.
"Keep quiet," advised Bruce. "Of course it's Sam. This is part of my
experiment. Now you listen."
There was some more talk and laughter, and then a waiter came to take
the orders. Sam called for a rather elaborate lunch, and while it was
being gotten ready a voice, which Tom recognized as that of a Sophomore
with whom he was slightly acquainted, asked:
"You had great sport this summer, didn't you, Sam?"
"I should say we did! Nick and I helped find a treasure in an old
mill."
"Whew!" gasped Tom. "So he found it, did he?"
"Keep quiet," whispered Bruce. "Listen!"
"And what's this I hear about playing a joke on Tom Fairfield, and some
of his friends?" asked another voice.
"A joke!" gasped Tom.
"Quiet!" warned his friend.
"Ha! Ha!" laughed Sam. "Yes, it was a _joke_ all right. You know
those fellows happened to go camping near where Nick and I were. We
met old Skeel--you know, the prof. who used to be here. Well, he had
some scheme of finding a hermit's money hidden in the old mill, and we
went in with him. Then we found that Tom and his crowd were on the
same trail.
"Nick and I decided to have some fun with 'em. So one day we sneaked
into their camp, when Tom was out, and just took Bert, Jack and a
fellow named Dick something-or-other prisoners. Say! but they did kick
and struggle, but we managed 'em.
"We carted 'em off to the old mill, and there we put 'em in a secret
room. It was jolly fun, until Tom came, made quite a row, and got 'em
out. But it was all a joke."
"By Jove! and a good one, too!" cried several laughing voices.
"Did you get the treasure?" someone wanted to know.
"Yes, it was there all right. The old hermit got it. I don't know
just how that was, for Nick and I left. But I think Tom and the old
chap had a row, and part of a wall fell down, showing a secret room.
Oh, but you should hear how indignant Jack and Bert got when they found
we were standing guard over them! It was as good as a hazing."
"It must have been!" agreed his friends, laughing heartily.
"Aren't they sore on you?" someone asked.
"Oh, well, maybe a bit," admitted Sam, with a show of frankness. "But
if a fellow can't take a joke what good is he?"
"That's right!" came in a chorus. "If they make any trouble for you,
Sam, let us know."
"I will, but I don't think they will. Ah! here comes the eats! Pitch
in, fellows!"
"You're the stuff, Sam!" came from several. "And that sure was a joke
on Tom Fairfield and his crowd," added a voice. "A corking good joke!"
There was more laughter and talk, and in the next room to the jolly
party sat Tom, looking at his friend Bruce in wonder.