CHAPTER IV
THE BLACK MONKS OF ASIA
"Who wants to go nutting?" demanded Grace Harlowe in the basementcloakroom a few afternoons later.
"We do," came a chorus of voices.
"I don't," answered one.
"Don't you like nutting parties, Miriam?" asked Grace.
"She's too old," put in a sophomore. "This is a young people's party, Ipresume?"
"Well, it's not a sophomore party, at any rate," retorted Nora.
"Ma-ma, ma-ma," cried a number of other sophomores, imitating the criesof a baby.
The freshmen were nettled by the superior attitude of the older class,but they knew better than to say anything more just then.
"Never mind, girls," said Grace in a low voice, after the sophomores hadstrolled away, "we'll be sophomores ourselves next year. Now, all whowant to join the party, meet Nora and Jessica and me at the old OmnibusHouse at three-thirty. And, above all, don't give the meeting placeaway."
"Not in a thousand years," said Marian Barber.
It was evident that Miriam Nesbit had hoped to break up the party bydeclining to go herself. But she was not quite strong enough in theclass to divide it utterly, and she went off in a huff, with the secretwish to take revenge on somebody. As she started up Chapel Hill to herhome she was joined by one of the sophomore girls, who lived across thestreet.
"Your plebes are getting away from you, Miriam," exclaimed the oldergirl in a bantering tone. "You haven't got them well in hand yet.Nutting parties should be left behind for the Grammar School pupils."
"They certainly should," replied Miriam in a disgusted tone. "It's GraceHarlowe who gets up all these foolish children's games. She's nothingbut a tomboy, anyhow."
"She's the captain of the basketball team, isn't she?" asked the otherdryly.
"Yes," admitted Miriam reluctantly, "but she never would have been ifshe hadn't brought along all her friends to vote for her."
"Whew-w-w!" whistled the sophomore. "You don't mean to say it wasn't afair election?"
"Oh, fair enough," said Miriam, "except that I didn't bother to bringany of my special friends, and she did. I don't call that exactly fair."
"Oh, well," consoled the other, "you have a few things coming to youanyway, Miriam. You're at the head of your class, as usual, I suppose?"
Miriam nodded her head without answering. She was thinking of littleAnne Pierson and what a close race they were running together. Evenstudying harder than she had ever had to do before, Miriam found itdifficult to keep up with Anne.
"Where are they going?" asked the other girl suddenly, after they hadwalked along a few minutes in silence.
"Where are who going?" asked Miriam.
"Why, the nutting party, of course."
Here was Miriam's chance for revenge. The sophomores were a famouslymischievous class, and this girl was one of its ringleaders. Back inGrammar School days they had played many pranks on their school fellows,and even in their freshman year they had dared to turn off all lights,one night at a dance of older schoolmates.
"If I tell, you won't give me away, will you?" asked Miriam.
"I promise," said the older girl.
"Very well, then. They meet at three-thirty at the Omnibus House on theRiver road."
"Good," said the sophomore. "Don't you want to come along and see thefun?"
"Don't count on me," answered Miriam, turning in at her gate, with mixedfeelings of shame and triumph.
The Omnibus House, which had been chosen by Grace as the class meetingplace, was an old stone building standing in the middle of an orchard.It was now in ruins, but tradition set it down as a former inn and stagecoach station built before the days of railroads, and finally burned bythe Indians. There was a curious hieroglyphic sign cut in a stone slabin the front wall which one of the High School professors interested inarchaeology had deciphered as follows: "Peace and Justice Reign OverMount Asia Tavern."
Here the crowd of High School "plebes," as the sophomores scornfullydubbed them, met in conclave, partly to gather nuts in the woods nearby, partly to discuss class matters, but chiefly to enjoy the crispautumn weather. The woods were still gorgeous in russets and reds, inspite of the recent heavy frosts, and there was a smell of burningleaves and dry bracken in the air. The girls skipped about like youngponies.
"If this is childish," cried Grace, "then I'd like to be a child always,for I shall play in the woods when the notion strikes me, even if I'm agrandmother."
There was a smothered snicker at this from the inside of the old stonehouse, but the girls were too intent on their enjoyment to notice it.
"Young ladies," exclaimed Nora O'Malley, trailing her cape after her tomake her skirts look longer, and twisting her mouth down to give herface a severe expression, "you are not in your usual form to-day. I mustask for better preparation hereafter."
There was a peal of joyous laughter from the other girls.
"Miss Leece to a dot," cried Jessica.
"Miss Bright," went on Nora, "you will please pay attention to thelesson. If you do not, young woman, I shall have to punish you in theold-fashioned way."
"You will, will you?" cried Jessica, rushing gayly upon her friend."Come on and try it then!"
The other girls followed, and there was a tussle to pull Nora down fromthe stone upon which she had clambered to protect herself.
Shrieks, struggles and wild laughter followed, while Nora foughtdesperately to hold her position. So absorbed were they in friendlybattle that they had not noticed a troop of black-robed figures leavingthe ruined Omnibus House and stealthily approaching.
Nora was the first to see the ominous circle. She stopped short, andpointed with unmistakable terror at the masked and hooded persons, whowere watching them silently. There was a moment of frozen horror whenthe girls turned around. This was a lonely spot, too remote from anydwelling to call for help. Besides, the freshmen were outnumbered bythese weird figures, who appeared not unlike monks in their sombercowls, although their faces were absolutely hidden by black masks.
The girls clustered together around the rock like a group of frightenedchickens. Jessica had turned pale. She was not very robust and oftenovertaxed her strength to keep up with her two devoted friends.
The tallest of the masked figures then spoke in a queer, deep voice.
"Young women, are you not aware that this is a sacred spot, devoted forgenerations past to the Black Monks of Asia, whose home this buildingwas before it became a roadhouse for stage coaches? Never invade thisspot again with your hilarity. And now we will permit you to go,marching out single file, without looking back. But first, through yourleader you must give your word never to mention this meeting to anyone.If you refuse this promise we shall punish you as only the Black Monksof Asia know how to punish persons who have offended the order. Theleader will please step forward."
There was a moment's whispered conversation among the freshmen. ThenGrace, urged by her friends, said:
"We promise."
"Now march out, single file, as agreed," resumed the Black Monk of Asia,his voice trembling a little with suppressed emotion of some sort.
The girls started to move out of the enclosure single file, Graceleading the procession, when a gust of wind blew the robe of the leadingmonk apart, disclosing a navy blue serge walking-skirt. Grace's quickeye caught sight of the skirt at once, and breaking from the line, shecharged straight into the group of black monks, crying:
"Sophomores! Sophomores!"
The other girls ran after her, screaming at the tops of their voices;and there might have been almost a free fight between the two classeshad not the Black Monks of Asia scattered in every direction, running atutmost speed.
"Come on back, girls," cried Grace in a disgusted tone.
She had chased a monk half-way across the orchard; then stopped towonder what she would do if she caught the tall, black-robed individualwho had indecorously caught up her skirts and was flying well ahead overthe rough ground.
"Well, that was a sell!" uttered Nora disgustedly. "How shall we evermanage to get even with those mean sophomores!"
"If we don't," exclaimed Grace, "we shall never hear the last of it inOakdale."
"But who gave us away?" demanded Jessica. "Did anyone drop a hint to thesophomores of our secret meeting place?"
"I didn't," said one girl after another.
"Perhaps they followed us," suggested Marian Barber.
"No one followed me," asserted Grace. "I was careful to look behind andsee."
"Nor me."
"Nor me," exclaimed several of her classmates.
"No," said Nora. "Somebody must have overheard and given the secretaway."
"Not Mi----" but Grace stopped before she had finished the name.
The girls looked at each other.
Could Miriam Nesbit have been so false to her class?
No one replied, but each made a secret resolution to ferret out Miriam'ssuspected treachery if it were the last act of her life.
"Let's start home, now," said Grace. "It's too late to go nuttinganyhow, and these foolish sophomores have spoiled the afternoon, for meat least. If we don't cook up something to pay them back, the name offreshman will be disgraced forever more."
However, the afternoon adventures were not at an end.
As the group of girls started toward the road, some distance away,trying not to look crestfallen, a gruff voice from the far side of theOmnibus House called:
"Hold up there!"
The girls took no notice, thinking it was more upper-class tricks.
Five rough-looking men emerged from a grove of alders which grew aboutthe building.
The young girls were really frightened this time. No sophomore coulddisguise herself like this. These were undoubtedly genuine ruffians ofthe worst type, hungry, blear-eyed and ragged.
"What shall we do?" whispered Jessica, clinging to Grace desperately.
"Everybody run," answered her friend, trying to be calm as the five menadvanced on them. But when they broke away to run toward the distantroad they found their retreat cut off by the tramps, who were activeenough as soon as the girls showed signs of flight. Back of them lay thedense woods into which the sophomores must have plunged and departed fortown by another road. Seeing that escape was impossible, since, if somegot away, others would be caught--and no girl was willing to desert herfriends--the frightened plebes paused again and clustered about theirleader.
"What do you want?" asked Grace of one of the men.
"First your money, then your jewelry," answered the tramp, insolentlyleering at her.
"But suppose we haven't any money or jewelry," replied Grace.
"So much the worse for you, then," answered the tramp in a threateningtone.
"He can have this gold bracelet," exclaimed Jessica, slipping the bandfrom her arm.
But Grace was not listening. Her attention was absorbed by a group ofpeople passing in a straggling line on the road. Lifting up her voiceshe gave the High School yell, which had been familiar to every HighSchool boy and girl for the last twenty years:
"Hi-hi-hi; hi-hi-hi; Oakdale, Oakdale, HIGH SCHOOL!"
As she expected, the call was answered immediately, and some of theloiterers along the highway vaulted the fence at one bound.
"Help!" cried all the girls in chorus. "Help! Help!"
"It's some of the High School boys!" exclaimed Nora, in a relieved voiceas the rescuers came bounding through the orchard.
The tramps looked irresolute for a moment, but when they saw that thenewcomers were five boys they held their ground.
"What do you want?" said the tallest boy, with a flaming head of redhair, as he confronted one of the tramps.
"Thank heaven it's Reddy Brooks, pitcher on the sophomore baseballteam!" whispered Grace, unable to conceal her joy.
"Is that any of your business, young man?" demanded the tramp, showinghis teeth like an angry dog.
"It's my business to protect these young ladies," answered Reddy Brooks,"and I'll do it if I have to shed somebody's blood in the attempt."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the big tramp, clapping his hands to his sides andalmost dancing a jig in his amusement.
In the meantime Reddy had cast his eyes about for some kind of a weapon.There was not a stick nor stone in sight. The only thing he could findwas a pile of winter apples that had evidently been collected by theowner of the orchard to be barreled next day.
Reddy made a rush for the pile, to the amazement of his fellow-students,who imagined for a moment that he was running away. They soon found outhis purpose, however, when the apples came whizzing through the air withwell-aimed precision.
The first one hit the biggest tramp squarely on the chin and almoststunned him. Each boy then chose his man and the five ruffians were soonrunning across the orchard to the wood, the boys after them, theirpockets bulging with apples. Laughing and yelling like wild Indians,they pelted their victims until the men disappeared in the forest.
The girls, who had forgotten their fright in the excitement of thechase, were laughing, too, and urging on the attacks exactly as theywould have done at one of the college football games. Perhaps they hadhad a narrow escape, but it was great fun, now, especially when ReddyBrooks threw one of his famous curved balls and hit a tramp plump on theback of the head.
"Oh," cried Nora, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "I never hadsuch a good time in all my life! Wasn't it great?"
"Wasn't it though?" grinned Reddy, as the boys returned from the fieldof victory. "Lots more fun than throwing balls at dummies at the countyfair, wasn't it, fellows?"
"You girls ought to be careful how you walk out here alone at this timeof the year," said Jimmie Burke. "There are a great many tramps aroundnow, going south in bunches to spend the winter in Palm Beach, nodoubt."
"We'll never do it again," answered Grace.
"Never again!" exclaimed Nora, raising her right hand to heaven.
"I suppose Farmer Smithson will wonder what became of his apples,"observed Reddy.
"Oh, well, he has so many acres of orchards, I don't suppose he'll missthis one little pile."
And the crowd started gayly off to town.
But the girls of the freshman class had not forgotten--or forgiven--theBlack Monks of Asia.
All along the walk Grace was turning over and over in her mind somescheme of revenge. Nothing seemed feasible, however. The sophomores wereso well up in tricks that it would be difficult to deceive them.
"Suppose," Grace proposed suddenly, aloud, "we ask David Nesbit's adviceto-morrow night, when we go to the flying machine exhibition."
After that she dismissed the subject from her mind for the time being.
Grace Harlowe's Plebe Year at High School Page 4
