Dave Porter at Oak Hall/Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII
A "ROUGH HOUSE" AND A CAPTURE
The boys of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 fully expected to be brought up for examination on the following day, but much to their relief nothing of the sort occurred. Chip Macklin was asked a few questions by the doctor, but the master of the Hall knew of the pupil's sneaking tendencies and was in small humor to cater to them.
"I have examined into this," said Dr. Clay. "Both Mr. Haskers and myself found the boys in bed and their dormitories in good condition. You have evidently been misinformed, or otherwise you are exaggerating. You may go." And the sneak departed, utterly out of sorts, both with himself and all those around him. Not long after he sought out Gus Plum, to whom he had told his story during the night.
"How did you make out with the old man?" inquired the bully of Oak Hall.
"Didn't make out at all," grumbled Macklin, throwing himself down on a chair. "I'm sick and tired of this, Gus."
"Isn't he going to punish those chaps?"
"He says he visited the rooms and found everything all right and the fellows in bed. I can't understand it."
"They must have got wind of the old man's coming. More than likely they had a guard out,—and Murphy must have been standing in with them."
"Job Haskers was sent off on a wild-goose chase. He didn't mention the particulars, but I fancy that message he got was a bogus one."
"We must get square on them for the way they treated you, Chip."
"I'd like to do it," answered the sneak, brightening. "What would you do, if you were me?" he added.
"I don't know. Tell you what we might do; steal all their school books. They'd be sure to miss some lessons, and as they are such a studious lot, that would worry them a good bit."
"That's good enough, but I want to do more. It was no small thing to lock a fellow in the cellar in the dark, and remember, I wasn't more than half dressed at that."
"We might rough-house their dormitories," suggested Gus Plum. "That would rile 'em up, I know, especially if we did it on Saturday, just before inspection."
"Now, you're talking!" cried Macklin. "Will you help me do it?"
"Sure," and then and there a plan was laid to "rough-house" dormitories Nos. 11 and 12. The expression meant to disarrange everything the rooms contained. In some schools this is called "stacking," but at Oak Hall it was "rough-housing" or "jumbling."
The bully of the school had mentioned Saturday as the day for this work, for then it was that each dormitory was inspected by Andrew Dale, the head assistant, to see that all was in proper condition for the Sabbath. The dormitories were cleaned and dusted by the maids, but the pupils themselves had to keep everything in order. A failure to do this caused all in the dormitory to be marked down in their averages.
True to his promise made to Mr. Wadsworth and Professor Potts, Dave was studying hard, and, if he was not at the head of his class, he was close to it. As yet certain features of academy life were strange to him, but he was becoming settled rapidly.
"He's a staver," said Roger to Ben. "He works hard, and plays hard, and he is at one thing or another from morning till night."
"That's the kind I like," answered Ben. "Dave is the best kind of a chum. He'll do whatever he can for you."
"Oh, I like him myself—and I'll never forget what he did for my family."
"Have you heard anything further of that thief?"
"Not a whisper. I guess he has gotten away for good."
As was their usual custom, the boys of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12 spent an hour Friday evening in putting their apartments in order. Suits were brushed and hung away, shoes were polished, rugs put down straight, and books and papers arranged in their proper order.
"I'll wager there isn't a dormitory in the school in better order than this one," was Phil's remark, after the task was finished.
"Do Plum and his crowd keep their room in any kind of shape?" questioned Dave.
"I don't think so, although I never go in it. There was a row over the room last spring, because some cigarettes and playing cards were found there. The doctor won't permit smoking, drinking, or card-playing."
"Which puts me in mind of a story I heard an engineer tell," came from Shadow. "An expert engineer wanted a certain job, and had to go before a board of examiners. He was asked if he could do this, that, and the other, and said yes. Then they asked him if he drank. 'You bet I do,' said the engineer. 'How much?' was the next question. 'Oh, not over a dozen glasses a day.' 'You can't have the job—we don't want a man who drinks.' 'But all of you drink,' said the engineer. 'I do not,' answered the head of the examiners. 'You do.' 'Only water, coffee, and soft drinks.' 'That's what I drink, too,' said the engineer—and got the job."
"Well, Plum drinks something stronger than that," said Roger. "I've seen him do it. He ought to have been reported, but I am not the one to play the sneak."
It was a beautiful night, and all the boys, after cleaning up the dormitories went outside, to the playground or the river. They remained out until it was time to retire.
The light in the upper hall was turned low, so none of the lads noticed anything unusual on first entering the dormitories. Then Dave, who was in advance, stumbled over an upset chair and fell upon a bed spring. Phil followed and bumped into several trunks, piled one on top of the other.
"Hold on—something is wrong!" cried Dave, and turned on the light. "Well, I declare!"
"Somebody has rough-housed us right enough!" came from Phil, as he gazed around in dismay. "What a mess!"
And mess it truly was. Every bed had been taken apart, and the tops, bottoms, sides, springs, mattresses, and bedclothing were in a tangled heap in the center of the floor. On top were piled an open trunk and some school books, and on the books was perched a quart bottle of black ink, ready to tip over at the slightest touch. Beside the beds was an upturned table, with rugs and chairs on top, and mixed in with them suits of clothing, collars, shirts, socks, neckties, and a hundred and one other things. Every toothbrush and hairbrush had been daubed with ink or mucilage, and mucilage had been placed on the band of every hat and cap. Over the bare floor were strewn the contents of several boxes of tacks, and an armful of straw from the stable.
"This is Chip Macklin's work," came from Roger. "I'll wager a hundred dollars on it!"
"He never did this alone," came from Sam Day. "Gus Plum must have helped him."
"I vote we go and catch Macklin and make him straighten this out," put in Buster Beggs. "Why, such a rough house, as this will take all night to fix up."
One or two of the boys wanted to report to the master of the Hall, but this was quickly voted down by the others.
"We can attend to our own troubles," said Phil. "But we ought to make sure if Macklin and Plum did it."
"I'm going to play the spy and see," declared Roger. "That is, if you fellows will start in to fix up here without me."
"All right, go ahead, Roger," came from several.
"I've got an idea," said Dave. "If you'll spare me, I'll go with Roger. Perhaps we can capture those chaps."
"Hurrah! Just the thing!" cried Polly Vane. He rarely took part in the discussions, but to have the room mussed up ruffled him greatly.
The bottle of ink was taken down and placed in a corner, and the majority of the lads set to work to clean up the dormitories. In the meantime Dave and Roger slipped off, and hid themselves in two dark corners of the hall.
They had not long to wait. But a few minutes had passed when they beheld Macklin and Gus Plum sneaking towards dormitories No. 11 and No. 12. Each tiptoed his way to one of the doors and tried to peep through the keyhole.
"Now is our time," whispered Dave. "You take the sneak and I'll tackle Gus Plum."
"Can you manage him? He's pretty big."
"I think I can. Come."
Both moved forward like shadows, and a few seconds later Gus Plum and Macklin found themselves caught from behind and hurled against the doors.
"Open up, fellows!" cried Dave, and as the doorknob was turned, the barrier flew open and Gus Plum pitched headlong, with Dave on top of him. Macklin also went down, and was made a prisoner with ease. Then both doors were closed and locked once more.
"Hi, let up!" cried Gus Plum, when he could speak. "Let up, do you hear?"
"Stop your racket, Plum," said Dave in a low but intense tone. "If you don't——"
"We'll all pile on and fix you," finished Sam Day.
"I—I don't know what you mean by treating me so," stammered the bully, as Dave allowed him to rise.
"Don't you?" sneered Phil. "Just look around and you'll understand."
"I—I didn't have anything to do with this," put in Chip Macklin, in a shivering voice.
"Who has been rough-housing you?" asked the bully, with a pretended look of surprise.
"You and Macklin," answered Phil, boldly. "You needn't deny it."
There was a pause, and the bully and the sneak looked at each other. How had their guilty secret leaked out?
"We ought to give you a hard drubbing for this," came from Roger.
"I suppose you will—since you are twelve to two," answered the bully of Oak Hall.
"We'll let you go under one condition," said Dave, after a few words with his chums.
"What condition?" questioned Macklin, eagerly.
"That you go to work and place everything exactly as you found it."
"Pooh! do you suppose I am going to play nigger for you!" ejaculated Gus Plum.
"You'll do that, or take the consequences."
"Let us fix the rooms, Gus," came from the sneak. "I—I don't want them to—to——"
"Oh, shut up, Chip!" interposed the bully, in disgust. "I am not going to lift my hand, so there!" he added, defiantly.
"He's too hot-headed to last," came from one of the students. "Let's hang him out of the window by the heels."
"I've got a good mustard plaster handy," said another. "I think to apply that to his neck, just where his collar comes, would bring him around."
"Or else place a bit of ice on his feet," came from another, and he held up the chunk from the water pitcher.
"You can't scare me," replied the bully. "I won't help fix up the room, so there!"
At that moment came a loud knock on the door, which caused all of the students to start in alarm.