CHAPTER XI
TURNING THE TABLES
"Frank, we are marked men!" declared Bob Upton tragically.
"Ha!" retorted Frank with a laugh. "The deadly enemy approaches!"
"No nonsense!" declared Bob, quite earnestly now. "We're in for a course ofsprouts; it's to come off this very night, and the savage horde which is tobegin the hazing operations is that gang of ten who occupy the bigdormitory room next to us."
"How did you find all this out, Bob?"
"I overheard them plotting."
"I see."
"I'm going to spike their guns and turn the laugh on them."
"How?"
"That's telling. You'd object, so I'm going to keep my own counsel. Thereare four degrees of initiation. If a fellow consents to all the tests witha good-natured grin he passes muster. If he doesn't, he's tabooed."
"Well, then, let's stand muster cheerfully."
"Not I," retorted Bob grimly. "We'll turn the tables; then they'll thinkall the more of us. Ever hear of the Chevaliers of the Bath? Or the Knightsof the Garter?"
"They are new to me--some school rigmarole, I suppose."
"Yes. Then there's Scouts of the Gauntlet."
"Worse and worse."
"And finally the Guides of Mystery."
"Whew!"
"To be a free and accepted Chevalier of the Bath a fellow has to be awater-proof rat. To be a Knight of the Garter he must consent to wake up atmidnight to find a rope tackle around one ankle, and be dragged out of bedand down the hall."
"Well, we'll have to take our medicine, I suppose," said Frank lightly.
"To be a Scout of the Gauntlet," went on Bob, "is to be sent in the darkdown the stairs on a fool errand, and come back to face a pillow shower. Agenuine Guide of Mystery must have the grit to be left blindfolded in thevillage graveyard at midnight, barefooted, and with a skeleton stolen fromthe museum hitched to one arm."
"That's the program, is it, Bob?"
"Exactly," assented Frank's new chum. "The show begins to-night, as I say.Stick close to me and you won't lose any rest."
Frank looked blandly and admiringly at his comrade, and was rather proud ofhim.
There had never come so marked and agreeable a change over a boy as thatmanifested in the instance of Bob Upton within three days.
There was still under the surface with Bob, when he met strangers, acertain suspicious element that had been engrafted in him. The least hintthat any one was guying him or imposing upon him would bring the old lookback to his face, but Frank watched him closely, and coming to BellwoodSchool had indeed been the beginning of a new life for Bob.
An incident had occurred the morning after their arrival that, outside ofFrank's friendly effort in behalf of Bob, had been the means of lifting thefarmer boy to a new level.
The fellows at Bellwood School were of the average class in suchinstitutions, a mixture of jolly and gruff, good and bad. Like attractslike, and the very first morning stroll on the campus Frank found himselfattracted to some boys who took him into their ranks as naturally as if hehad come recommended to them by special testimonials. Of course Bob wentwhere Frank went, and loyally followed his leader.
Frank soon found out that there were two cliques in the so-called"freshman" crowd. A boy named Dean Ritchie lead the coterie that hadaccepted Frank and Bob as new recruits. Frank liked him from the first. Hewas a keen-witted, sharp-tongued fellow, out for fun most of the time andnever still for a minute.
At any time the appearance of a lad named Nat Banbury or any of his cohortswas a signal for repartee, challenges, sometimes a sortie. Advances weremade by Banbury toward the enlistment of the two new recruits in his ranks,but Frank had already made his choice.
"Oh, come on, he isn't worth wasting breath on," spoke up a big, uncouthfellow named Porter, when Frank had politely announced to Banbury that DeanRitchie was a friend of some old friends of his at Tipton. "Ta, ta,Bob-up!" rallied Porter maliciously to Frank's chum. "Keep close tobrother!"
Bob flushed and his eyes sparkled. His fists clenched.
"Easy, Bob," warned Frank in an undertone.
"Say, Banbury Cross," observed Bob, "there was a fellow of your name chasedout of our county for sheep stealing, and another kept the dog pound. Yousnarl just exactly like some of the curs he keeps there."
"Banbury, cranberry, bow, wow, wow!" derided Ritchie. "Good for you,Upton--you hit the nail on the head that time."
"Upton--Robert Upton!" bellowed the old janitor, Scroggins, appearing onthe campus just then.
"That's me," acknowledged Bob.
"President Elliott wishes to see you in the library," said Scroggins.
"Aha!" snorted Banbury. "Called down already! Look out, Bob-up, you're infor a quake in the shoes."
"No; the president is going to consult him on how to raise squashes,"sneered a crony of Banbury.
"Say, Frank," whispered Bob, quite in a quake, "I'm going to get it forsomething. What can it be?"
"Don't worry," replied Frank. "Face the music. I fancy you won't be hitvery hard."
Bob went away with the old, worried look on his face. He came back radiant,and seemed to walk on air, and he never even heard the jeers of the Banburycrowd as he passed them. He made a beckoning motion to Frank, and the twostrolled away together.
"Frank," said Bob, choking up, "I believe I'm some good in the world, afterall."
"I told you so, didn't I?"
"I'm glad you made me come here," went on Bob. "Oh, so awfully glad! Ideclare----" and there Bob broke down and turned his face away for a momentor two.
"Say, Frank," he continued, "so is the president glad I came, too. He toldme so. What do you think? The two children in that runaway belong to hisfamily."
"Well! well!" commented Frank.
"I almost sunk through the floor when the good old man, with tears in hiseyes, thanked me for saving them, as he called it. He said he was proud ofme, and that he predicted that the academy would be proud of me, too. Itell you, Frank, it stirred me up. Strike me blue, if I don't try to behavemyself."
"Good for you, Bob!"
"Strike me scarlet red and sky blue, if I don't try to deserve his kindwords."
Nothing seemed to ruffle Bob after that. He simply laughed at the snubs andjeers of the Banbury crowd. He seemed to lose his old-time unsociability,and went right in with the jolly crowd that composed the stanch followingof Dean Ritchie.
It was just after the nine o'clock bell had rung that evening when Bob somysteriously disclosed his suspicions of the initiation plots of theoccupants of the adjoining room.
"They're all Banbury's crowd," he explained to Frank. "Get into bed andtake in the fun. They're waiting for us to quiet down. Don't speak above awhisper. Just stay awake long enough to see the program out."
Bob turned out the light and both snuggled down on the pillows luxuriouslyafter a strenuous day of sport and study.
"Act first," whispered Bob. "Soon as the Banbury crowd think we're fastasleep, you'll hear them come stealthily out into the corridor. They'vefixed the transom over our door so it will swing open without a jar. Onefellow will stand on a chair. The others will hand him up the nozzle of ahose running to the faucet in their room."
"And we'll be Knights of the Bath--I see," observed Frank.
"Yes, without having to take any of the medicine. Hist--they're coming."
Frank could readily guess what the enemy had in view--the old school trickof dousing them in their sleep. He relied on the mysterious promises of hischum, and lay still and listened intently.
There was a vast whispering in the next room, a rustling about, and thenmore than one person could be heard just outside in the corridor.
A stool seemed to be placed near to the door. The slightest creaking in theworld told that the transom had been pushed ajar.
"Hand up the hose," whispered a cautious voice.
"Here you are."
There was a fumbling sound at the transom. Then came the impati
ent words:
"It don't work."
"Turn on the screw."
"I have. The water can't be on."
"Yes, it is. I turned it."
"I tell you it won't work," was whispered from the stool. "Go back to theroom and turn on the faucet, I tell you."
Hurried footsteps retreated from the door. Some one could be heard enteringthe next room. Then some one rushed out of it again.
"Say," spoke an excited voice, "we're flooded! The hose has burst, and weare deluged, and----"
"Boys, a light--the monitor's coming," interrupted a warning voice.
"Cut for it! Something's wrong! We're caught!"
There was heedless rush now from the next room. Frank could hear the hosedragged along the corridor. The door of the adjoining room was hurriedlyclosed.
"Off with your clothes--hustle into bed," ordered some one in thatapartment.
Shoes were kicked off, beds creaked, and then came odd cries.
"Wow!"
"Murder!"
Tap--tap--tap! came a knock at the door.
"What's going on here?" asked the sharp, stern voice of the dormitorywatchman.
"Thunder!"
"Oh, my back!"
"I'm scratched to pieces!" So ran the cries, and half a dozen personsseemed to bound from beds to the floor.
Bob Upton was shaking with suppressed laughter, stuffing the end of thepillow into his mouth to keep from yelling outright.
"Bob," whispered Frank, "what have you been up to?"
"Drove a plug into their hose ten feet from the faucet, slit the rubberfull of holes--and filled the beds with cockle burrs," replied Bob, and,quaking with inward mirth, he rolled out on the floor.
"Gentlemen of Dormitory 4, report at the office in the morning with anexplanation," droned the severe tones of the monitor out in the corridor.
The Boys of Bellwood School; Or, Frank Jordan's Triumph Page 11
