From School to Battle-field: A Story of the War Days

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XII.

  When school reassembled the following day the First Latin knew to a manby nine o'clock that the cause of Shorty's "late" the previous day was aletter from Lawton. Warned by Jim Hulker that the rector had takenHoover to the Clarendon, Briggs scouted miserably down the avenue ontheir trail, filled with no one knew what nervous apprehension oftrouble to come, and, dodging in at the office a moment later,ascertained from a bell boy that they had gone into a parlor on thesecond floor. Briggs knew what that meant. The Doctor wascross-questioning his sullen pupil, and there were all manner of thingsHoover might be driven into confessing if closely and scientificallypressed, and what might that not mean for Briggs? Not five minuteslater, down they came, the Doctor erect, stately, and deliberate asever, Hoover slinking wretchedly alongside. A carriage had been called,and into this Hoover was practically hustled by his preceptor, andtogether they were driven away towards Fourteenth Street, and Briggswas left behind. They were going to see Hoover's father, was theapparent explanation, and it boded ill. A ten-minute walk took Briggsover to the house of the Metamora. The hose carriage had just returned,and was being washed. The Hulkers had dropped off at a certainbilliard-hall, said one of the firemen, and thither sped Briggs. It wasa resort much frequented by certain of the Columbia students in thosedays, and there were a dozen or more scattered about the big room at themoment. Over in a corner, whispering together, were the two Hulkers witha brace of followers. Over against them, across the room,ostensibly--even ostentatiously--engaged in a game of billiards, wereJoy and Julian, and all the little pluck that Briggs had left wentoozing out of his finger-tips at the sight. Quickly he slunk back intothe vestibule and crouched there, peering through the glazed doors,uncertain what to do. A bar-boy, coming up from below at the moment withcigars and mixed drinks on a tray, found him peering in through thecrack, and knew him at once.

  "Sa-ay," whispered Briggs, the moment he discovered who had come. "TellMr. Hulker I want to speak to him out here a minute, will you?"

  The boy looked hard at him, made no reply, went deliberately in with histray-load, deposited the glasses on little tables near the big ones,where a jovial party of Columbians were playing, collected his pay,counted it carefully over, then with exaggerated impudence of mannerdawdled over to where the Hulker set were in eager conference in theircorner, and said something to them. Briggs saw, and so did Joy andJulian, the backward toss of the head, the over-the-shoulder jerk of thethumb towards the entrance, saw the four young fellows start and glancequestioningly thither; then presently, hands in pockets and head in air,Hulker major came sauntering out, just as Julian caught sight of acarroty head ducking behind the framework of the doorway.

  "There's that sneak Briggs now," he quickly whispered to his chum. "Whatare those fellows planning, do you s'pose?"

  There was a brief confabulation in the hallway without, and then backcame Hulker,--no loitering now,--said a word or two to his fellows, andthe four picked up their canes and overcoats and started for the door.The bar-boy went running after them.

  "I'll pay you to-morrow," Hulker major answered, impatiently; and Julianheard it. The boy was importunate, and glanced at the desk. The clerkcame out from behind his barricade.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Hulker, but the manager left strict orders that thataccount must be settled before you could be served again. You told theboy you would settle everything before you left, and to get thosecigars. Now, I've got to take the money out of the till and pay for 'emif you don't."

  Angrily, and with ugly words, the elder Hulker turned on the clerk. "Ihaven't any money just now, I tell you. We've been at that fire all themorning. It's too late to get a check cashed. I'll bring you the moneyto-night, Billy, I'll swear to----"

  But the controversy was cut short by the sudden entrance of the managerhimself. He was a man who prided himself on the "respectability" of hisplace. Order and decorum were things he insisted on. Even the mildest ofsherry-cobblers, for which the bar was famous, was forbidden to thestudent or youth who showed the faintest symptom of over-stimulation.Case-hardened politicians and men about town avoided Martigny's, for thereason that they could never get enough there. Student trade wassomething he catered to only so long as it came through the well-bredand well-behaved of their number. The Hulker set he much disapproved ofand had frequently cautioned, but money was an object, and for a timethose young fellows had it and spent it in abundance. Of late there hadcome a change. Something had occurred to limit their supplies, andwithin a month they had run up bills at every neighboring bar orbilliard-room where they could get credit, and now Martigny, afterthrice presenting his account, had drawn the line. Quietly but firmly hetold the elder that that bill must be settled then and there or it wouldbe sent by a messenger to his mother at once. It was impossible for theplayers at the tables not to hear what was going on. There were slywinks and quizzical glances. Columbiads, old or young, fought shy of theHulkers, but even they were unprepared for the scene that followed.

  "I haven't got a cent with me, Johnny," protested the elder, while theothers crowded about in indignant chorus. "I swear I'll fetch it to youto-night, or in two hours, if you must have it."

  "You've sworn to the same effect twice before, Mr. Hulker," said themanager, calmly, "and I cannot trust you. I was down in the bar-roomwhen your orders came for this round of drinks and cigars, and the boydeclared that you showed him gold, and declared further that you'dsettle the whole account. It's fourteen dollars and seventy-five cents,and I want that money now."

  "It ain't mine, Johnny. It was given me for a particular purpose,"protested Hulker. "That was just bluffing. I didn't think he'd take itin earnest."

  "But he did, Mr. Hulker, and so did I, and so will your mother when mymessenger gets there ten minutes from now. Get your coat, Mr. Tracy," hesaid, turning to his assistant. "I'll send you around with the message.That's all, gentlemen. I won't detain you further than to say that youwill not be allowed in this room hereafter."

  "Sa-ay, stop! Hold on!" cried Hulker. "Here, I'll--I'll pay it now. Butof all the dash, dash, dashed mean----"

  "No bad language, Mr. Hulker," said Martigny, calmly. "A specialpoliceman is at the door." He glanced at the coin tendered by thetrembling hand of the leader. "Give Mr. Hulker five dollars andtwenty-five cents," said he, calmly, to the desk. "There's a friend ofyours peeking in at the door. You might inquire now what he wants." Andwith unruffled civility the manager led the way to the door, closed itafter the crestfallen quartette, and came back thoughtfully chinking thecoins, just as Joy and Julian, laying aside their cues, hurried to thedesk to pay for their game.

  "Was that red-headed specimen there yet when you came up, Martigny?"asked Julian.

  "Yes, sir; but he scuttled away down-stairs as soon as he saw me. Who ishe?"

  "One of the Hulker set, and none of ours," was the brief answer, asJulian's keen eyes took in the two coins Martigny was still mechanicallypassing back and forth from the fingers of one hand to the other."Ten-dollar gold pieces," said he to Joy, as the two hurried down thestairs and out on the busy street. There, "scooting" along in the keenDecember wind, heads bowed and half hidden in high coat-collars, andhuddling together, the discomfited quartette, reinforced at the cornerby Briggs, were just turning to cross Broadway when a carriage camedriving rapidly by. Seated therein, erect and majestic, was the Doctor,apparently lost in thought. By his side a pasty-faced young fellow,with flitting, beady black eyes, glanced furtively out and recognizedhis fellows, made some quick signal with the hand, waved it from thewindow, and pointed towards the northeast corner of Madison Square.

  "I'll bet I know what that means," said Julian, as the five halted,irresolute, and gazed after the carriage. "Pop's had him in limbo forover an hour, and the moment he gets out he wants those fellows to meethim. We could find something worth knowing, old man, if we could seethem together again." But not until long after did Julian dream howmuch.

  The Doctor left Hoover at the steps of the brownstone mansion, saw him
safely within-doors, summoned the grave butler to his carriage, said afew words in low tone, and was about to order "drive on," when he wasaware of two young gentlemen running up, panting a bit and red in theface.

  "Ha, Joy! Julian!" he cried, as they raised their caps. "What brings youhere?"

  "What news of Lawton, sir? Doremus just told us there was a letter." Andto substantiate the story, Doremus himself came puffing after the pair.

  "Where'd you hear it?" asked the Doctor of the third youngster, desirousfirst of ascertaining where the leak occurred.

  "I was over at the school a few minutes ago. The janitor told me, andMr. Halsey and Prime were just going away together."

  "Just going away together! Why, I supposed everybody had left thebuilding an hour ago."

  "So did I, sir, but John said Mr. Halsey had kept Prime. He was having along talk with him 'bout something, and John heard him say that now theyhad proof it wasn't Lawton that took Joy's watch, and that they'd havehim back in less than a week."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Pop, now well-nigh as vehemently interested as hispupils. "Then you young gentlemen will be wise to go direct to yourrespective rooms and get to work on the lessons for to-morrow. It'salmost dark now. Be off with you!" and, with exaggerated sternness, thecane was displayed.

  "But was it so, sir? Have you heard of Lawton?"

  "Yes," said the Doctor, instantly relapsing into the confidential mannerknown only to the boys he trusted and liked. "He writes that he had beenill, but is strong again, and we are going to try and fetch him back.Now, no more until to-morrow. Off to your books!"

  If John, the janitor, had not been in such a hurry to get home, he mighthave given out some news that would have surprised them, and that wasthat when Mr. Halsey and Shorty Prime left the school together they wentup the avenue instead of down, and, of all places in Gotham, Halsey ledstraight to the house of 61 Hose. Out in front on the cobble-stones thedainty white Zephyr was being sponged off and rubbed dry by three orfour red-shirted experts, who glanced up and grinned affably at "thelittle 'un" and looked critically but in no surprise at the master. ANew York fireman of the late '50s thought it bad form to be unpreparedfor anything. "Here are two who can back up my statements," said theboy, with confident eyes, as he beckoned to the nearest member of theZephyr. "Will you tell Mr. Halsey where I met you on the way to the firethis morning, and what we said?"

  The hoseman straightened up and squeezed the dirty water out of a hugesponge, shifted a quid in his cheek, thought a moment, and answered,"Why, cert'nly, Shorty; right down there opposite the Harlem depot. We'dhardly gone a block when I see this little fellow come a-running.'What's a-fire, Shorty?' says I. 'Big house next the stable,' says he.'Where's your cap?' says I. And he just kind a' nodded at the school ashe grabbed the rope. You ain't going to do nothing to him for coming togive us a still on a fire, are you?" he asked, with something likemenace in his eye.

  "No," said Halsey, with one of his rare smiles. "We're glad to know it.That'll do, Prime. Come on." And Halsey, who never wasted a second oftime, touched his hat to the Zephyrs and went streaking off down theavenue again, the tails of his worn black frock-coat streaming in thebreeze, Shorty, much disappointed because he wasn't called upon toproduce further evidence of prowess as a fireman, skipping along afterhim. The lad's heart was bounding with excitement and joy. Another day,and if successful in the quest on which she had already started, Mrs.Park, George Lawton's mother, would have Snipe once more back in school,and his accusers would stand confounded. Not for days had Shorty seemedso like his old self, bright, buoyant, and chatting like a parrot, tothe discomfiture of a most tolerant home circle.

  Morning came and all the school was early "on deck," and the news ofSnipe went buzzing from lip to lip, and Briggs nervously flitted fromgroup to group, swallowing snubs as though they were sugar. Meeker camewearily in, his pale face paler than ever, his eyes seeking Halsey, whoglanced up and gravely shook his head, whereat the junior master made adespondent gesture with both hands and went on into his own room. Beach,his ruddy skin glowing with the exercise of a long, vigorous walk, swungout of his top-coat and into his seat as though lessons were to begin atthe instant. He and Halsey merely exchanged nods. They were oncivil--not confidential--terms. The janitor came and reached for thebell, lifted it by the handle from the table, and was turning with itwhen, unaccountably, it was jerked from his grasp and went clanging andclattering to the floor. The news of Snipe had restored heart to theFirst Latin, and as one boy the class turned on John in volublesympathy. John dove for the bell, straightened up, and started anew,when there was a jerk to the table, a snap, and the little clapper ofthe bell shot half-way across the room. Turner dashed upon it and heldit up to public view, a fine steel wire firmly attached to it andstretching to the leg of the table.

  "Awe, see here, Mr. Beach, any boy that would play such a trick as thatought to be packed out of school. I move you, sir, that it is the senseof the First Latin----"

  But Beach is in no mood for trifling. Bang! comes the heavy ruler on thedesk. "To your seat!" he orders. "Ten marks off for Turner," and theclass subsides, while John speeds away to borrow the bell from the shopbelow, and the master mentally calls the roll. "One absentee, Hoover,"he notes; instantly calls Bertram to his feet and begins the work of theday. Poor work it proves to be, for between yesterday's fire and themorning's tidings the First Latin has neglected its studies. Poorer itproves after ten o'clock, at which hour a policeman appears at the doorand asks for the rector. Poorer still after a recess at twelve, at whichtime Mr. Hoover himself drives up in his carriage, Halsey comes down tomeet him, and together they drive away. At any other time the fact thatHalsey was away from his post at the reassembly after recess would leadto a riot, but the sight of the face of Hoover, _pater_, is more thanenough for the class. "He looks like a ghost," says Bliss. "What'scoming next?"

  Nothing came--ahead of the Doctor. At the usual moment he appeared, andas usual levelled his stick at the boy at the foot. "Nomessage--telegraphic?" he asked of Beach, after brief glance at themissives on his desk. A shake of the head, an inaudible "no" framed bythe lips were the answers. A look of grave concern spread over theDoctor's face. He glanced at his watch, turned to the window, then backto the door, for the rustle of skirts, most unusual sound, could beheard on the stairs. Another moment and there entered Mrs. Park, GeorgeLawton's mother. She reached the chair the Doctor promptly placed forher, sank into it, limp and despairing, and burst into tears. "Doctor,Doctor!" she wailed. "My boy has not been near Bridgeport. I couldn'tfind a trace of him--or of any one who knew anything about him."