Dave Porter in the South Seas/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
GUS PLUM'S MYSTERIOUS OFFER
When Doctor Clay came to his desk on the following morning, he found an envelope lying there, on which was inscribed the following:
"To pay for the broken window. If it costs more, please let the school know, and we'll settle the bill." Three dollars was inclosed.
This caused the worthy doctor to smile quietly to himself. It took him back to his college days, when he had aided in several such scrapes.
"Boys will be boys," he murmured. "They are not villains, only real flesh-and-blood youngsters."
"You are going to punish those boys?" demanded Job Haskers, coming up.
"If we can locate them."
"Humph! I'd catch them, if it took all day."
"You may do as you think best, Mr. Haskers; only remember you have young gentlemen to deal with. I presume they thought it only a harmless prank."
"I'll prank them, if I catch them," growled the assistant to himself, as he walked away.
Word had been passed around among the boys, and when the roll was called all were ready to "face the music."
"Who knows anything about the proceedings of last night?" began Job Haskers, gazing around fiercely.
There was a pause, and then a rather dull boy named Carson arose.
"Great Cæsar! Is he going to blab on us?" murmured Phil.
"What have you got to say, Carson?" asked the teacher.
"I—I—I kn-know wh-what happened," stut tered Carson.
"Very well, tell me what you know?"
"A ra-ra-ra-ram got into your ro-ro-ro-room, and he kno-kno-kno-knocked you d-d-d-down!" went on the boy, who was the worst stutterer at Oak Hall.
"Ahem! I know that. Who put the ram in my room?"
"I d-d-d-d"
"You did!" thundered the teacher. "How dare you do such a thing!"
"I d-d-d-d"
"Carson, I am—er—amazed. What made you do it?"
"I d-d-d-didn't say I d-d-d-did it," spluttered poor Carson. "I said I d-d-d-didn't know."
"Oh!" Job Haskers' face fell, and he looked as sour as he could. "Sit down. Now, then, who ever knows who put that ram in my room last night, stand up."
Not a boy arose.
"Will anybody answer?" stormed the teacher.
There was utter silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall. Dave looked at Gus Plum and Nat Poole, but neither budged.
"I shall call the roll, and each boy must answer for himself," went on Job Haskers. "Ansberry!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers," was the reply, and the pupil dropped back into his seat.
"Humph! Aspinwelll"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers."
"Babcock!"
"I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers."
"This is—er—outrageous! Beggs!"
"Sorry, but I can tell you nothing, Mr. Haskers," drawled the fat youth.
After that, one name after another was called, and every pupil said practically the same thing, even Plum and Poole stating that they could tell nothing. When the roll-call was finished, the teacher was fairly purple with suppressed rage.
"I shall inquire into this at some future time!" he snapped out. "You are dismissed to your classes." And he turned away to hide his chagrin.
"Do you think we are safe?" whispered Phil to Dave, as they hurried to their room.
"I think so," was the country boy's reply. And Dave was right—the truth concerning the night's escapade did not come out until long after, when it was too late to do anything in the matter.
Dave was anxious to make a record for himself in his studies, and, with the end of the term so close at hand, he did his best over his books and in the classroom. He was close to the top of his class, and he was already certain of winning a special prize given for mathematics. Roger was just behind him in the general average, and Phil was but five points below, with a special prize for language to his credit. The best scholar of all was Polly Vane, who, so far, had a percentage of ninety-seven, out of a possible hundred.
Dave had not forgotten what Gus Plum had said, and just before the session for the day was ended received a note from the bully, asking him to come down to a point on the lake known as the Three Rocks, and located at the extreme limit of the academy grounds. Plum asked him particularly to come alone.
"Aren't you afraid Plum will play some trick on you?" asked Phil, who saw the note delivered, and read it.
"I'll be on my guard," answered Dave. "I am not afraid of him, if it should come to an encounter between us."
Having put away his books, Dave sauntered down to the spot mentioned, which was behind a thick fringe of bushes. Plum was not yet there, but soon came up at a quick walk.
"I couldn't get away from Poole," explained the bully. "Are you alone?" and he gazed around anxiously.
"Yes, I am alone," answered Dave, coolly.
There was a silence, and each boy looked at the other. Dave's eyes were clear, but the bully's had something of the haunted in them.
"You said something about me last night," be gan Plum, lamely, "something about my being on the river."
"I did."
"Did you see me on the river?"
"I am not going to answer that question just yet, Plum."
"Huh! Maybe you are only joking?"
"Very well, you can think as you please. If you want to talk to me, very well; if not, I'll go back to the school," and Dave started to walk away.
"Hold on!" The bully caught the country boy by the arm. "If you saw me on the river, what else did you see?"
"You were following Shadow Hamilton in a boat."
"I wasn't—I didn't have anything to do with Hamilton. I—I didn't know he was out till afterwards," went on the bully, fiercely. "Don't you say such a thing—don't you dare!" His face was very white. "You are not going to get me into trouble!"
"Is that all you have to say, Plum?"
"N-no. I want to talk this over, Porter. I—that is—let us come to terms—that's the best way. It won't do you any good to try to get me into trouble. I—I haven't done anything wrong. I was out on the river by—by accident, that's all—got it into my head to have a lark that night, just as you went out for a lark last night."
"Well, what do you want to see me about, then?" questioned Dave. He could readily see that the bully had something on his mind which troubled him greatly.
"I think we might as well come to terms—you keep still and I'll keep still."
"I haven't said anything, Plum."
"Yes, but you might, later on, you know. I—that is, let us make a sure thing of this," stammered the bully.
"What are you driving at, Plum? Talk out straight."
"I will." The bully looked around, to make certain that nobody was within hearing distance. "You're a poor boy, Porter, aren't you?"
"I admit it."
"Just so. And, being poor, some pocket money comes in mighty handy at times, doesn't it?"
"I have some spending money."
"But not as much as you'd like; ain't that so?"
"Oh, I could spend more—if I had it," answered Dave, trying to find out what the other was driving at.
"Well, supposing I promised to give you some money to spend, Porter, how would that strike you?"
Dave was astonished, the suggestion was so entirely unexpected. But he tried not to show his feelings.
"Would you give me money, Gus?" he asked, calmly.
"Yes, I would—if you'd only promise to keep quiet."
"How much?"
"Well—I—er—I'd do the right thing. Did Phil Lawrence see me on the river?"
"No."
"Any of the other boys?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then you were alone." Gus Plum drew a sigh of relief. "Now, let us come to terms, by all means. I'll do the square thing, and you'll have all the pocket money you want."
"But how much are you willing to give me?" queried Dave, his curiosity aroused to its highest pitch.
"I'll give you"—the bully paused, to add impressiveness to his words—"I'll give you fifty dollars."
"Fifty dollars!" ejaculated Dave. He was bewildered by the answer. He had expected Plum to name a dollar or two at the most.
"Ain't that enough?"
"Do you think it is enough?" asked the country boy. He scarcely knew what to say. He was trying to study the bully's face.
"Well—er—if you'll give me your solemn word not to whisper a word—not a word, remember—I'll make it a a hundred dollars."
"You'll give me a hundred dollars? When?"
"Before the end of the week. I haven't the money now, but, if you want it, I can give you ten dollars on account—just to bind the bargain," and the bully drew two five-dollar bills from his vest pocket. "But, remember, mum's the word—no matter what comes."
He thrust the bills at Dave, who merely looked at them. Then the country boy drew himself up.
"I don't want a cent of your money, Gus Plum," he said, in a low, but firm, voice. "You can't bribe me, no matter what you offer."
The bully dropped back and his face fell. He put his money back into his pocket. Then he glared savagely at Dave.
"Then you won't come to terms!" he fairly hissed between his teeth.
"No."
"You had better. If you dare to tell on me—breathe a word of what you saw that night—I'll—I'll make it so hot for you that you'll wish you had never been born! I am not going to let a country jay like you ruin mel Not much! You think twice before you make a move! I can hurt you in a way you least expect, and if I have to leave this school, you'll have to go, too!" And shaking his fist at Dave, Gus Plum strode off, leaving Dave more mystified than ever before.