The Rover Boys Megapack

by Edward Stratemeyer

  Hardly were the boys in the room than there came a loud knocking on the door.

  “It’s Mr. Strong!” gasped Sam. “What shall we do now? It looks as if we were a caught!”

  CHAPTER XXV

  MUMPS IS TAUGHT A LESSON

  The cadets stared blankly at each other. Only two of them were undressed; the others had all of their clothing on.

  It was time for the head assistant to go the rounds, to see that all was right for the night. Should he be allowed to enter the dormitory he would certainly “smell a mouse,” and perhaps knock all of their plans for a feast in the head.

  “Off with your clothing, all of you!” whispered Tom. “I’ll manage this affair. Pretend to be asleep.”

  “But, Tom, it’s my fault—” began Dick, when his younger brother cut him short.

  “Into the bed—I’ll be all right, Dick.”

  Satisfied that Tom had some plan in his head for smoothing matters over, the other boys disrobed with marvelous rapidity and crept into their beds. While this was going on the knocking an the door continued.

  “Boys, open the door!” said George Strong. “Open the door, do you hear?”

  “Answer him!” whispered Tom to Larry, whose bed was nearest him. “Pretend you have just awoke,” and he flung himself on the floor, with one of a pair of big rubber boots in each hand.

  “Oh—er—Mr. Strong, is that you?”

  “Yes, open the door.”

  “Why—er—is it locked?

  “Yes.”

  At once Larry tumbled from his bed, unlocked the door and stood there rubbing his eyes. “Excuse me, Sir, for not hearing you before.”

  “I want to know what the meaning is of the noise in here?” said George Strong severely, as he gazed around the dimly lit apartment, for the lamp was turned low. “You boys are—gracious me! What’s this?”

  The teacher started back in genuine surprise, and his words aroused all of the boys in the beds, who followed his gaze in equal wonder.

  For in the center of the floor sat Tom, his eyes tightly closed, a rubber boot in each hand, and rocking backward and forward with great rapidity, as if rowing.

  “Two lengths ahead!” muttered Tom. “I’ll beat you yet, Larry! Three lengths! Oh, but this is a dandy race! Pull away, you can’t beat me! Oh! There goes an oar,” and, bang! went one of the rubber boots against the base board, and Tom made a leap as if diving into the water after it, sprawling and spluttering as he pretended to swim.

  “He’s got the nightmare again!” shouted out Sam, quick to understand Tom’s dodge. “Tom, wake up there!”

  “The nightmare!” echoed Mr. Strong. “Is it possible? Poor boy! Wake up, Thomas!” and he caught Tom by the shoulder and shook him and finally set him on his feet.

  “The oar—I will have the— Oh!” Tom opened his eyes and stared around him blankly. “Why—er—what’s up?”

  “My boy, you’ve had the nightmare,” answered the teacher kindly.

  “Nightmare!”

  “I told you not to eat that pie tonight,” put in Sam. “He saved his pie from dinner, and ate it just before we came up here,”—which was true.

  “Er—I thought I was on the lake racing Larry Colby,” murmured Tom and hid his face as if in embarrassment. “What did I do?” he faltered.

  “You almost raised the roof, that’s what you did,” answered Dick. “You had better send home for some of those digestion tablets you used to take,” and then he hid his face in the blankets to keep from laughing out loud.

  “I will.” Tom turned to George Strong. “Excuse me, Mr. Strong, I am sorry I have caused you so much trouble.”

  “How do you feel now?” questioned the assistant anxiously.

  “Oh, I’m all right now.”

  “Well, then, go to bed; and I trust you sleep more soundly for the balance of the night,” said the teacher; and he remained in the room until Tom was tucked in, when he went off, taking the key of the door with him.

  “Tom, you’re a brick!” came from Frank, when the teacher was out of hearing. “What a head you have on your shoulders!”

  “Strong took the key of the door,” said Fred.

  “I don’t like that.”

  “Shove a chair-back up under the knob,” suggested Dick, and this was done, the chair thus making an excellent brace.

  “Now to get that stuff in,” said Dick, donning his clothing with all possible speed. “I shouldn’t wonder if the soda and root beer are frozen as hard as a rock.”

  He was soon ready to descend, and the others lowered him by aid of the wash line. Then the boxes and packages were hoisted up, and Dick came after.

  A few minutes later came a slight tapping on the door, repeated three times. It was a signal, and Sam opened the door, admitting George Granbury and seven other cadets from dormitory No. 2. The occupants of several other dormitories followed.

  “Are we to have Mumps and his crowd in here?” asked one of the newcomers.

  “I don’t want Mumps,” answered Dick. “Not because he ran against me, but because he was Baxter’s toady and is a regular sneak.”

  “Little Luke Walton and Mark Gross voted for you, Dick,” said Harry Blossom. “They ought to be invited.”

  “All right, tell them to come in, and anybody else who wishes, outside of Mumps,” answered Dick.

  The young captain went off, and soon returned with six boys of Sam’s age or younger.

  “Mumps is awfully mad,” he announced. “My idea is, he is going to cause us trouble if he can.”

  “We’ll wax him good if he does!” cried Tom. “Say, Sam, let us watch him,” and he hurried into the hallway, while the others attacked the several good things Dick had provided for them.

  Tom and Sam had been in the dark hallway but two minutes when the door of Mumps’ dormitory opened and the sneak came out, wearing his slippers and his long overcoat. He glided swiftly toward the side stairs leading to Captain Putnam’s private apartments.

  “He’s going to peach!” whispered Tom, “Come on, Sam, let us capture the enemy!” and he hurried after Mumps and caught him by the arm.

  “Hi! who is this?” demanded the sneak, turning in fear. Then, as Tom and Sam confronted him, his face grew white.

  “Come with us, Mumps, we want to treat you,” answered Tom readily, into whose head another trick had entered.

  “I don’t want any of your treat,” growled the sneak. “Let me go.”

  “Oh, you must come,” urged Tom. “We have a fine bottle of root beer and a lot of candied fruit for you.”

  If there was one thing that Mumps liked, it was root beer, while he knew candied fruit was very rich eating. Accordingly he hesitated.

  “I’ll get all I can first and tell on them afterward,” he thought, and allowed Tom, and Sam to conduct him into the dormitory occupied by the Metropolitan Sextet.

  “Here is Mumps come to join us!” cried Tom, as he introduced the sneak into the room and he winked at Dick. “Now, Mumps, sit down and make yourself at home, and I’ll get something for you,” and he motioned the sneak to a position at the head of his bed.

  He hurried off, and presently came back to Mumps with a fine slice of candied orange. The sneak was greedy, and instantly transferred the entire slice to his mouth and began to chew it vigorously.

  “Oh!” he cried presently, and drew down his face in disgust.

  “What’s the matter, Mumps?” asked Sam.

  “This orange tastes like kerosene!” spluttered Mumps, and rushed to the window. As he put out his head, Tom pointed to the sneak and then to the lamp at which he had “flavored” the candied fruit. “We’ll get square just wait,” he whispered. “You gave me that piece on purpose,” howled the sneak, as soon as he had cleared his mouth. “Oh, what an awful dose! Somebody give me a drink of water.”
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br />   “The water is all gone, Mumps,” answered Tom. “Awfully sorry. Have a glass of root beer,” and he poured out a tumbler full.

  Willing to drink anything to take that taste out of his mouth, the sneak took the tumbler and gulped down about half of the root beer.

  The remainder was about to follow, when suddenly he stopped short. “Oh, my!”

  “Awfully good, isn’t it?” put in Dick.

  “Good? It tastes like salt water!” snorted Mumps. And he was not far wrong, for Tom had taken the pains to put a lot of salt in to the glass before filling it up.

  “Why, that is the best root beer I ever tasted,” put in Larry. “It’s as sweet as sugar. Let me taste your glass, Mumps.”

  “Do so with pleasure,” and the sneak passed it over. Larry pretended to take a gulp. “Fine! Couldn’t be better. Isn’t that so, Frank?” and he passed the glass to Harrington. “It’s certainly as good as mine, and that’s O. K.,” answered Frank; and then George Granbury took the tumbler and declared the root beer was even better than what he had had previously.

  “It’s certainly your stomach, Mumps, my boy,” said Tom. “You look kind of funny—just like a fellow I knew who got the smallpox.”

  “He does look like a fellow getting the smallpox,” put in Dick. “Mumps, does your tongue feel dry-like?”

  “Dry, of course it is dry—and salty,” growled Mumps, but he began to grow uneasy.

  “Let me see your tongue,” put in Sam, who happened to have a blue pencil in his pocket. As he spoke he broke off some of the blue point and crumbled it in his fingers.

  “My tongue is all right,” answered Mumps. Nevertheless, he held it out; and Sam slyly dropped the bluing on it.

  “It’s as blue as indigo!” he exclaimed, “Look into the glass for yourself.”

  Somewhat against his will, Mumps strode over to the looking glass. As he noted the condition of his tongue, he grew very pale and began to tremble.

  “It is blue,” he whined, “and—and—I feel sick all over. Oh, say, do you think I really am getting the smallpox?”

  For an instant there was a dead silence. Then the boys could hold in no longer, and a long but smothered laugh showed the sneak how completely he had been sold.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  A LIVELY GAME OF BASEBALL

  If ever a boy was mad clear through that boy was the sneak of Putnam Hall. As the laugh ended, Mumps shook his fist at one and another of his tormentors.

  “Think you are smart, don’t you?” he spluttered in his rage. “I’ll fix you all! I’ll go and tell Captain Putnam all about this spread, and then maybe you won’t catch it!”

  “Mumps, keep quiet,” said Dick, placing himself between the enraged one and the door. “Make too much noise, and I’ll promise you the worst drubbing you ever received.”

  “If you peach on me, I’ll give you a second whipping,” added Tom.

  “This is a gentlemanly affair,” put in Larry.

  “The boy who gives us away gets a thrashing from me.”

  “Ditto myself,” said Frank; and several others said the same. All looked so determined that Mumps fell back in alarm.

  “You let me go,” he whined. “I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

  “You can’t go until you promise to keep quiet,” said Dick.

  “And you’ll promise right now,” cried Tom, seizing a pitcher of ice water that had been hidden under one of the stands. Leaping on a bed he held the pitcher over Mumps’ head.

  “Promise, quick, or I’ll let her go!” he went on.

  “Oh, don’t!” yelled Mumps, as a few drops of the water landed on his head and ran down his neck.

  “Do you promise to keep silent?” demanded Dick.

  “Yes, yes!”

  “All right. Now mind, if you break that promise you are in for at least ten good whippings.”

  “Somebody else may give you away,” said Mumps craftily.

  “No one will. If Captain Putnam hears about this it will be only through you. So beware, Mumps, if you value your hide!” And then the sneak was allowed to go. Five minutes later the spread came to an end, the muss was cleared away, and every cadet sought his couch, to rest if not to sleep.

  It is possible that Captain Putnam and George Strong suspected something, yet as the cadets seemed none the worse for the festivities the next day, nothing was said on the subject. “Boys will be boys,” smiled the captain to his head assistant; and there the whole matter dropped.

  Several days later, while some of the cadets were down at the cove clearing off a portion of the ice for skating, Mrs. Stanhope’s man-of-all-work came over with a note for Dick from Dora. The Rover boys all read the note with deep interest.

  “I have good news [so ran the communication]. Mr. Crabtree has gone to Chicago, and the marriage has been postponed until next summer. You do not know how glad I am. Of course there will be trouble when Mr. Crabtree learns how he has been fooled, but mother has promised me to remain single until August or September, and I know she will keep that promise. I thank all of you very much for what you have done. Yesterday I saw Dan Baxter, who seems to be hanging around this neighborhood a good deal. He wanted to speak to me, but I did not give him the chance. I wish he would go away, for he looks to me like a very evil-minded person. It is strange, but Mr. Crabtree thinks a good deal of him, and has told my mother so. He says it is nonsense to put Mr. Baxter down as a criminal.”

  “Baxter stopping around here…” mused Dick. “What can he be up to?”

  “He had better clear out,” said Sam. The matter was discussed for some time, but nothing came of it.

  Skating lasted for nearly a month, and then both the ice and the snow melted away as if by magic. Soon spring was at hand, and the early flowers began to show themselves in Mrs. Green’s little garden, which was the housekeeper’s one pride.

  Dick had seen Dora once in that time. The girl had told him about how Josiah Crabtree had searched in vain for the college mentioned in the bogus letter.

  “He said I played the trick,” were Dora’s words. “He wants mother to send me to some strict boarding school.”

  “And are you going?” had been Dick’s question.

  “No, I shall remain with mother. After she is married again I do not know what will become of me,” and as Dora’s eyes filled with tears Dick caught her hand.

  “Don’t worry, Dora,” had been his words. “I will help you, and it is bound to come up right in the end.”

  As soon as summer was at hand, the Putnam Hall baseball club received a challenge from the Pornell club to play them a game at either school grounds.

  “They want to square accounts for the football defeat,” said Fred. “Well, the only thing to do is to accept the challenge,” and the acceptance was sent without delay, the game to be played on the Putnam Hall grounds, Captain Putnam having promised the cadets his aid in building a grandstand. The lumber came out of a boathouse that had been torn down to make place for a new structure, and as many of the cadets took to carpentering naturally, the grandstand was quite a creditable affair.

  Frank Harrington was captain and catcher for the Putnam Hall team. Tom was pitcher, while Larry played first base, Dick second, and Sam was down in center, to use those nimble legs of his should occasion require. Fred was shortstop, and the balance of the club was made up of the best players the school afforded.

  The Saturday chosen for the game was an ideal one, clear and not too warm. The students from Pornell arrived early, and so did the other visitors, and by two o’clock the grounds were crowded.

  As before a parade was had. Then the umpire came out and gave each team fifteen minutes for practice.

  “We’re in luck,” said Dick, when Putnam Hall won the toss and took last innings. In a moment more they were in the field, and the Ump called out: “Play!”


  As was natural, Pornell had put its heaviest batters at the head of their list, and it is possible Tom was a bit nervous as he twirled the ball and sent it in toward the home plate.

  “Ball one!” came the decision, and again the sphere came in. “Ball two!” said the umpire.

  “Take it easy, Tom!” called out Dick. “Lots of time, remember.”

  The next was a strike. Then came a foul, and then a hard drive to left field, and amid a wild, cheering the Pornell batsman gained second base in safety.

  “That’s the way to do it, Cornwall! Keep it up, Snader!”

  The second player now came up, and again the ball came in. Tom was as nervous as before, and another hit was made, and the player covered first, while the man on second went to third.

  “Tom, do be careful,” whispered Frank, walking down to him. “Don’t let that fellow in,” and he nodded in the direction of the first runner.

  The third player was now at the bat. Two balls and two strikes were counted against him and then came a foul, high up in the air, which Frank caught with ease.

  “One out, and two on base! That’s not so bad.”

  Again the ball came in. “One strike!” said the umpire. “I want a high ball!” growled the batter. Again the ball was delivered. “Two strikes!” Then the ball came in again. “Three strikes! Batter out!” And Tom got a rousing cheer for striking out the Pornellite.

  But the two men were still on first and third, with one more man to put out.

  “Take care!” whispered Larry, and the basemen all moved up closer. One strike, and then came a high fly, far out in center field.

  “Run, Sam! Don’t miss that!” came in a yell. “Run! run!”

  And Sam did run, knowing that if he missed the ball the Pornell team would score two runs, if not three. It was going far down the field, but he was after it, and just as it came down, he made a leap and—clutched the sphere with his left hand.

  “He has it! Hurrah! No runs this innings for Pornell!” And the Putnamites howled themselves hoarse, while their opponents had nothing to say.