Jackson touched the rock first, several seconds before either Larry or Dick came up. It certainly looked as if Lew Flapp’s crony had a good chance of winning.
“Told you he would win,” said Flapp to Powell.
“The race isn’t over yet,” answered Songbird briefly.
“Humph! Do you think Dick Rover can catch Jackson when he is five yards behind”?
“Not quite as much as that, Flapp, and he is gradually crawling up.”
“He won’t make it, I tell you.”
“Perhaps he will.”
“I’ll bet you five to one that he won’t,” insisted the big boy.
“I won’t bet any more.”
“You’re afraid,” sneered Flapp.
Again Powell went down into his pocket and drew forth another dollar.
“There you are,” he said to the stakeholder.
Lew Flapp had not expected this, but he quickly covered the one dollar with a five, feeling sure he was going to win.
“You’ll never see your two dollars again, Powell,” he said.
“Perhaps you’ll never see your six again,” answered Songbird, and moved away to watch the race from another point along the island shore.
Jackson was certainly swimming well, although the terrific strain was beginning to tell upon him.
“Go it, Jackson,” roared Lew Flapp. “Go it, old Moneybags!”
“Moneybags” was a signal among many of the cadets, signifying that the speaker had bet money on the result. Betting at the academy was strictly prohibited, but wagers were often made on the sly.
Hearing this cry, Jackson renewed his struggles and for a few seconds held his lead.
But now Dick Rover was crawling up inch by inch. He had passed Tom, who was left hopelessly in the rear, and now he was pressing Larry.
“The major and the captain are tie!”
“See, Captain Rover is crawling ahead!”
“Swim, Jackson, swim!” yelled Lew Flapp frantically. “You must win!” And Pender took up the call, and so did Rockley.
Again Jackson did his best. The finish of the race was now but twenty yards off.
“Go in and win, Dick,” came from Larry Colby. “I’m about used up,” and he let Dick go ahead.
Dick was almost as fresh as at the start and slowly but surely he kept gaining upon Jackson until the two were not over two yards apart.
“Hurrah, Captain Rover is crawling up!”
“Don’t give up, Jackson, you can win out yet!” screamed Lew Flapp.
“Go it, Dick!” yelled Sam. “Go it, I say! The race is yours!”
Cheered by the last cry Dick increased his stroke and in a second more he was alongside of Jackson.
The latter made a side kick, intending to catch Dick in the stomach, but the eldest Rover was wise enough to keep out of his opponent’s reach.
The kick made Jackson lose ground, and like a flash Dick passed him.
“Dick Rover is ahead!”
“See, Jackson is played out! He can hardly take another stroke!”
“Major Colby is crawling up! See, he is passing Jackson!”
“And here comes Tom Rover, too.”
“Wake up, Tom!” cried Sam. “You can beat Jackson yet!”
At this cry Tom did wake up, and seeing Jackson floundering around put on a final spurt and passed him.
“Dick Rover has won the race!”
“And Major Colby is second, and Tom Rover third.”
“Poor Jackson wasn’t in it, after all!”
CHAPTER XVII
THE ENEMY PLOT MISCHIEF
The most disgusted cadet on Pine Island was Lew Flapp, and when Jackson walked out of the water and entered one of the bath-tents he followed his crony with a face full of bitterness.
“Why didn’t you try to keep up and win out”? he asked bitterly, while Jackson was dressing.
“I did try. But Rover came up like a steam engine.”
“You seemed to play out all in a minute.”
“And that is just what I did do. The pace was too hot for me, and I just about collapsed. Those fellows are good swimmers, no two ways about that.”
“Bah! I could have beaten them with ease.”
“I’d like to see you do it.”
“Do you know I lost six dollars on that race,” went on Flapp, after a pause.
“Who won the money”?
“Songbird Powell.”
“How did you come to put up such an odd figure, Lew”?
“I bet a dollar even first, and then, when I felt certain you would win, I gave him odds of five to one. I was a chump.”
“Well, I did my best—honestly I did,” returned Jackson, who hated to have his crony lose.
“I ought to make you pay me back.”
“I’d do it if I had the money,” said Jackson. He rarely had money in his pocket, spending everything as fast as received.
“Well, that is one more we owe that crowd,” observed Flapp with increased bitterness.
When Jackson was dressed he and Flapp took themselves to another part of the camp, and there met Pender, Rockley, and Ben Hurdy.
“Let us take a walk,” said Jackson. “I am sick of staying around where the others can stare at me.”
“Come with me,” put in Pender. “I have found something I want to show you.”
“A gold mine, perhaps,” said Flapp. “I need one just now. Betting on Jackson nearly cleaned me out.”
“It’s no gold mine, but it may prove useful to us,” answered the other cadet.
The crowd started off, and Pender led the way through the woods and partly around the rocky hill in the center of the island.
“I ran into it quite by accident,” he said. “You’d never suspect it was there unless you knew of it.”
“Knew of what?” asked Rockley. “What sort of a mystery are you running us into now?”
“Just wait and see.”
Pender stepped from the path they had been pursuing and pushed aside some overhanging bushes. Beyond was a small clearing, backed up by a high, rocky wall. In the wall was an opening, blocked up by a heavy door secured by a rusty iron chain that was passed through a ring in the rocks.
“Well, this is certainly odd,” exclaimed Flapp. “What kind of a place is it”?
“It’s a den of some sort,” said Hurdy. “Maybe some counterfeiters belong here.”
“Bosh, you talk as if you were in a dime novel,” came from Jackson. “More than likely some old hermit lived here. When some men get queer in the head they come to just such a spot as this to end their days. They hate the sight of other human beings.”
“I reckon it is a hermit’s den,” said Pender. “But if so the hermit left it years ago, for everything inside is covered with dust and cobwebs and mildew.”
Pender walked up to the stout wooden door, unfastened the iron chain, and threw the barrier back.
One after the other the boys entered the opening beyond. At first they could see but little, but gradually their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and they made out a rocky chamber about twelve feet wide and running back in irregular shape for a hundred feet or more. At some points the ceiling was so low they had to stoop, while elsewhere it was far above their reach. The flooring was fairly level, with rock in some places and hard dirt in others.
The opening was rudely furnished with a heavy table and a bench, and close to one wall was a box bed, still filled with pine boughs. On a big wooden hook hung a man’s coat, so decayed that it began to fall apart when they touched it. The table contained several tin cups and plates, all rust eaten.
“This is certainly a curious find,” said Flapp. “How did you happen to hit it, Gus?”
“I was exploring the cliff above when I happened to slip and fall
into the bushes just in front of the door. I was shook up but not hurt, and when I got up I saw the door and wondered what it meant. Then I looked inside and after that went back to camp to tell you fellows about it.”
“It will make a dandy place for secret meetings,” suggested Rockley. “We can come here and do what we please.”
“Just what I thought,” said Pender. “We can smuggle no end of good things here from the nearest village and come whenever we have our off time.”
“Perhaps we can do more than that,” said Flapp, struck with a sudden idea.
“What”? asked the others.
“I’ll tell you some other time. It’s a great find,” continued the tall boy.
In the meantime those left at the camp had surrounded Dick and were congratulating him on his victory.
“I knew you would win,” said Powell, when the excitement was over. “I bet with Lew Flapp on the result. Garling was stakeholder.”
“What did you win, Songbird”?
“Six dollars.”
“Gracious! You went in pretty deep.’
“Flapp called me a coward when I told him I didn’t want to bet, so I had to take him up,” went on Songbird. “Had it been anybody else I might have given the money back. But I won’t give it back to that bully.”
“It’s against the rules to bet, Songbird.”
“But you are not going to tell on me, are you?”
“You know me better than to ask the question. Just the same, I am sorry you bet,” said Dick.
“I’m going to treat the boys as soon as I get the chance,” went on Powell. “Six dollars will buy a whole lot of ice cream and cake, not to mention soda and candy and peanuts.” And then he began to hum to himself:
“Peanuts and candy and raspberry ice,
Chocolate cake, and all that’s nice,
Ev’ry student can come if he will,
And ev’ry student can eat his fill!”
“I believe you’d sing at a funeral,” said Dick, laughing.
“I wouldn’t sing at my own funeral,” answered Powell, and stalked off, humming as gayly as ever.
The remainder of the day passed quietly enough, although by the whispering in various tents it was easy to see that something unusual was in the air.
“Hazing to-night, as sure as guns,” said Major Larry to one of the officers.
“Shall we arrest the hazers”? asked the officer, with a twinkle in his eye.
“You must obey orders,” answered the youthful major, non-committally, since he had given no orders on the subject.
He could well remember his first year in camp, when he had been dragged from his cot at midnight, almost stripped, and thrown into a brook of icy spring water, and then made to run over a rough road in his bare feet for half a mile, “just to warm up,” as the hazers told him. It was rough sport, not to be approved, but “boys will be boys,” and it is practically impossible to stop hazing even in the highest of our institutions of learning.
It was poor Hans Mueller who was the first to suffer that night. In the midst of the darkness, for there was no moon, Hans found himself suddenly aroused from his slumbers by being dragged out of his cot by the feet.
“Shtop!” he began, when a hand was thrust over his mouth. Then he was raised up by six cadets, shoved out of the back of the tent and carried away to the grove in the rear of the camp. The party had to pass two sentries, but the sentries were evidently posted, for they appeared to see nothing wrong.
Hans was not allowed to speak until he was out of hearing distance of the camp. Then he was dumped on the ground with a dull thud.
“Mine cracious! vot does dis mean annahow”? he demanded, as he struggled to his feet. “Does you vants to kill me alretty, drowing me aroundt like a log of vood, hey”?
There was no answer, and now he looked at the cadets, to discover that each wore a black mask, with a hood from which two black horns protruded.
“Who you vos alretty”? he spluttered, staring in open-mouthed amazement at the party. “You vos all look like der Oldt Boy, ain’t it! I guess I go me back to der camp kvick!” and he started to run.
Hans did not get far, for a foot send him sprawling, and by the time he was again on his feet four masked cadets had him by the hands and arms, so that he could not get away. He started to yell when of a sudden somebody threw a handful of dry flour into his wide open mouth.
“Wuog!” he gasped. “Wuog! Do—you—wants—to choke me alretty!” And then he started to sneeze, as some of the flour entered his nose.
There was a moment of silence and then one of the masked figures advanced slowly.
“Hans Mueller, are you prepared to meet your doom”? was the question put, in a deep bass voice.
“Doom? Vot’s dot?” asked the German boy, slightly frightened.
“Are you prepared to die?”
“Die? Not by a jugful I ain’t. You let me go!”
“Are you prepared to become a full-fledged member of the Order of Black Skulls.”
“Not much, I ton’t belong to noddings,” gasped Hans.
“Then you must prepare to meet your fate. Away with him, fellows, to his doom!”
Before Hans could resist he was caught up once again. One of the cadets had brought with him a large blanket and into this the German youth was thrown. Then the others caught the blanket around the edges.
“Stop!” roared Hans, and tried to climb out of the blanket. But before he could manage it, the thing was given a toss and up he went, high into the air.
“Oh! Mine cracious!” he gasped and came down with a crash, to go up again an instant later. Then up and down went the boy, turning over and over, until he was all but dazed.
“Stop! Murder! Fire! Robbers!” he roared. “Let me owid, kvick! I vos turning outsides in alretty! Oh, stop, von’t you, blease!”
“Will you join the Order of Black Skulls”? he was asked again.
“Yah, yah! Anydings, so long as you lets me town kvick!”
“And you will not breathe a word about what has taken place here”?
“I say me noddings, upon my honor, ain’t it!”
“Then let him go, fellows,” and a moment later Hans was lowered.
“Now you are one of us,” said another student, and handed him a mask, skull-cap and pair of horns, the latter made of stuffed black cloth. “Do you promise to help us”?
“Anydings vot you vonts.”
“Then come with us, and don’t dare to open your mouth.”
CHAPTER XVIII
HAZERS AT WORK
William Philander Tubbs was dreaming of a fashionable dance he had once enjoyed when he suddenly found himself bound and gagged and being carried he knew not where.
“This is awful!” he thought. “What in the world does it mean?”
Then he remembered that some of the cadets had spoken about hazing, and the cold perspiration came out on his forehead.
The gag in his mouth was made of nothing more than a knot in a clean towel, but it worried him a good deal and he was afraid he would be choked to death by it. But nothing of the sort happened, and soon the gag was removed.
“What does this mean?” he asked, as many cadets had done before him.
He received no answer, and tried to break away from his tormentors. But their hold on him could not be shaken, and before he was set down he found himself well out of sight and hearing of Camp Putnam, as the spot had been named.
“This is a beastly shame,” he murmured. “Why do you dare to break into my night’s rest in this fashion?”
He had heard of the mysterious society of Black Skulls before, but so far had never been hazed by the members. He looked curiously at the masked cadets, wondering if he could recognize any of them.
“Are you prepared to meet your doom?” he was a
sked.
“I am prepared to go back to my tent,” he answered.
“Away with him!” was the cry.
“Where are you going to take me?” he asked anxiously.
There was no reply, but in a twinkling his hands were caught and bound tightly behind him, and a bag was thrust over his head and fastened around his throat. The bag was so thick that he could not see a thing before him.
“Let him take the cold water cure,” said a voice, and he was forced to move forward.
“It’s rather deep there,” whispered a voice, just loud enough for him to hear.
“Not over his waist,” whispered another voice.
“What! It’s twice over his head,” was the answer. “I tested the water this afternoon.”
“Never mind, he’s got to take the test anyway.”
Now Tubbs was by no means a good swimmer, and the idea of being thrown into the water with his hands tied behind him and his head in a sack was frightful in the extreme.
“Le—let me go!” he whined. “Let me go, I say!”
“Forward with him!” was the heartless reply, and he was pushed on until he suddenly found himself in water up to his ankles.
“Stop! stop!” he cried, in a muffled voice. “Stop! I don’t want to drown!”
“Will you obey your superiors?”
“Yes, yes—anything!”
“Will you join the Order of Black Skulls?”
“Anything, I told you, only don’t let me drown!” cried the frightened William Philander.
“And will you promise to keep mum about what has happened here to-night?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Very well, you shall not be allowed to drown. But you must take the plunge.”
“Oh, dear me! I can’t—”
“Forward, and be lively about it. We will fish you out with a crab net.”
“But I—I can’t swim with my hands tied behind me!” chattered poor Tubbs.
“Yes, you can. Forward now! Ha, fellows, he will not go. Jab him with the pitchfork!”
At this a student stepped behind Tubbs and pricked his back with a pin.
The fashionable youth let out a yell of terror, and then, certain that he was about to take an awful plunge into some deep part of the lake, made a desperate leap forward.
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