A wild shriek of laughter rang out as Tubbs made the leap. He had jumped across a narrow brook not six inches deep and landed sprawling on the grass beyond.
“You are now initiated,” said one of the masked cadets, when the laughter had somewhat died away. And at once Tubbs’ hands were untied and the bag was taken from his head.
“Well, I never!” he murmured, as he gazed in amazement at the brook. “Thought it was the lake front sure!”
“As you are now one of us, Tubbs, you must wear these,” said a cadet, and furnished the fashionable youth with a mask, cap, and pair of horns.
“We have now disposed of number two,” said another cadet. “What of number three?”
“Number three must—”
At that moment a gun-shot rang out on the still night air.
“Hullo, something is wrong!” cried one of the hazers, in quick alarm.
“There goes the drum, fellows!” came in the unmistakable voice of Sam Rover. “We’ve got to hustle back to camp or we’ll be exposed!”
“Right you are,” came from Songbird Powell. “Come, fellows, and mind you don’t let anybody see the masks and other things.”
And away they scooted, under the trees and then along a row of bushes running fairly close to the first line of tents. In the meantime the drum continued to roll and the whole camp was astir. Captain Putnam himself was out and was soon followed by Major Larry and Captain Fred Garrison. Dick Rover knew what was up and took his time about showing himself, since he did not wish any of the hazers to be captured.
“Call the roll!” said Major Larry, after making a round of the company streets. But he himself was in no particular hurry.
Almost out of breath with running, the hazers came into camp, accompanied by Hans and Tubbs. Masks, caps, and horns were pushed out of sight under cots, and then all sallied forth to join their various commands. Calling the roll was already in progress.
“All present or accounted for,” came the declaration, five minutes later.
“All present, eh?” mused Captain Putnam. “That’s queer. Who fired that gun?”
“Private Jackson.”
“I will interview Jackson,” said the master of the school, and he ordered Jackson to his private tent.
“What made you raise the alarm, Jackson?” he questioned sharply.
“I thought some of the cadets were out of camp, sir,” was the answer.
“Did you see them go?”
“Not exactly, sir, but I thought I saw three or four of them sneaking along near the woods.”
“Humph! You should be sure of what you are doing, Jackson. It is not commendable to arouse the whole camp at midnight for nothing.”
“Well, I thought I was sure,” insisted the crestfallen cadet. He knew for a certainty that some of the cadets had been out but saw no way to prove it.
“In the future be more careful while on guard duty,” said Captain Putnam coldly; and there the subject was dropped.
“Who fired that shot?” asked Sam, on the morning following the hazing.
“Jackson,” replied a cadet named Gilson, who had been one of the hazers.
“The sneak!” murmured the youngest Rover.
“That’s what I say, Rover.”
“Guess he did it to get square for losing that swimming race,” put in another of the hazers.
“More than likely. We ought to square up with him for it.”
“That’s the talk.”
“Vat’s der madder mit tossing him a blanket up?” asked Hans earnestly.
“Think that’s a good way to get square, eh, Hans?” laughed Sam.
“Dot’s der vorst bunishments vot I know of,” said the German boy with deep conviction. “Makes you feel like you vos going to preak abard alretty kvick!”
All of the boys knew that it would not do to try any more hazing for the next few nights. Even if the guards gave no alarm, Captain Putnam or one of the teachers might be on the watch to catch them.
On the following day it rained and the majority of the cadets were glad enough to remain under shelter. A few went bathing or fishing and the latter brought in quite a respectable mess of fish. Even in fishing the boys were rivals and a new tin cup was voted to the cadet bringing in the string that weighed the most.
The rain began about ten o’clock and by noon the water was coming down in torrents.
“This is beautiful,” remarked Tom, as he looked at the puddle in the company’s street.
“We ought to have dug another ditch to let that water run off,” remarked Dick.
“Well, nobody wants to go out now and dig.”
“That is true.”
Instead of abating the rain became more violent as the afternoon advanced.
“This looks as if we were going to have some wind.” remarked Major Larry with a doubtful shake of his head.
“I hope it doesn’t blow too heavily,” said Captain Putnam.
“Don’t you think I had better caution the fellows to pin down their tents extra hard?”
“It would do no harm, Major Colby.”
“Then I’ll do it,” said Larry, and issued the order without delay. Some of the cadets grumbled at being driven out into the wet, but the majority knew they were doing the work for their own good and went at it without a murmur.
At about sundown the wind fell and after supper it was as calm as it had been before the storm started.
“Told you there wasn’t any use of getting wet pounding down stakes,” growled Lew Flapp. He had done his work in a slip-shod fashion, staying out but a minute or two for that purpose.
It still rained, so building camp-fires was out of the question. This being so, the cadets turned in early, glad to seek the shelter of their cots and their warm blankets.
An hour went by, when of a sudden the rain increased once more. Then came a rush of wind that shook all of the tents violently.
“We are not out of it yet, it would seem,” said Dick, as he sat up on his cot to listen to the flapping of the canvas in the company street.
He had hardly spoken when another gust of wind tore down on the camp. There was a ripping of cloth and a crashing of poles, and then a cry for help sounded from several places at once.
CHAPTER XIX
A STORM IN CAMP
“Say, fellows, are we all going up in a balloon!” cried Sam Rover, as he rolled off his cot in a great hurry.
One whole side of the tent was loose and the structure was in danger of tumbling down on the inmates’ heads.
“Help!” came from the next tent. “I’m being smothered!”
“That’s Lew Flapp!” said a cadet. “What’s up now, Flapp?” he called out.
No answer came back, and now canvases could be heard ripping in all directions.
“Fasten down the pegs!” came the order. “Fasten them down, quick!”
The cadets were already at work, and Sam and his tent-mates set at their task with a will, realizing that every moment was precious. While one student held the peg upright the other would pound it down into the wet ground with a hammer or the back of a spade.
“The confounded pegs won’t hold,” cried out one cadet. “There she goes!” and the next instant the tent went flying skyward, to land on another tent some distance away.
It was still raining “cats, dogs, and hammer handles” as Tom Rover expressed it. All was dark, the only light being that given forth by the lantern which had not been blown out. Occasionally came a flash of lightning, followed by the distant rolling of thunder.
“This is one of the real comforts of camp life,” said Songbird Powell sarcastically. “So much nicer than being under the roof of the Hall, you know!”
“Never mind, Songbird, you need a washing off at least once a year,” replied a fellow sufferer.
A minute later came another yell from Lew Flapp. He and his tent-mates had tried in vain to hold down their canvas. Now it went up with a rush. One of the peg ropes caught around Flapp’s leg and he was dragged over the wet ground, with his head splashing into every pool of water that he passed.
“Help me! I’ll be killed!” roared the tall youth.
The tent was blowing along the company street and half a dozen cadets ran to the rescue, Tom with them. Some leaped on the canvas, while others held Flapp. Then the rope was cut with a knife.
“Wha—what a fearful wind!” groaned the tall boy, when he could speak. “This is the worst storm I ever saw!”
“Oh, but I’m sorry I ever came to camp,” groaned William Philander Tubbs. “I’m so wet the water is actually running out of my shoetops!”
“Ton’t said a vord,” came from Hans. “I dink me I half a rifer floating mine packpone town alretty! Of dis keeps on much longer der whole camp vos in der schwim, ain’t it!”
“I reckon we’re in the swim already,” broke in Sam. “Some of us had better bring the rowboats up.”
The high wind lasted for fully half an hour and during that time six of the tents were literally blown to ribbons, while many others suffered to a lesser extent. A quarter of the shelters laid flat in the mud, and nothing could be done with these until the wind went down.
“It’s the worst blow I have seen since we have held our encampments,” was Captain Putnam’s comment, and he and the teachers went around with lanterns to aid the students as much as they could.
By three o’clock in the morning the storm was over and the stars began to peep forth from behind the clouds. As tired as they were the cadets had to set to work to put up the tents and arrange their cots as best they could. Camp-fires were lit in half a dozen places and the students huddled around these to dry themselves and get warm.
“I guess this is a touch of real army life,” said Dick. “And I must say I don’t like it overly much.”
“We’ll have to make the best of it, Dick,” answered Tom, who had come over to see how his brother was getting along.
“How is Sam?”
“Oh, he’s all right, although as wet as any of us.”
“This storm reminds me of the one we experienced when in the jungles of Africa,” went on the eldest Rover. “Do you remember how it blew, Tom?”
“Indeed I do,” was the answer, as Tom’s mind went back to that thrilling experience, as related in “The Rover Boys in the Jungle.”
On the following day the cadets were glad enough to remain in camp, cleaning out their tents and drying the things that had become wet. But the storm was a thing of the past and the sun shone as brightly as ever. Big fires were kept burning, and hot coffee could be had whenever wanted, so scarcely anybody suffered from the drenching received.
The storm had somewhat disarranged the plans made by Flapp, Rockley, and their particular cronies. But two days later Flapp, Rockley, and Pender got permission to go to the village of Oakville, two miles distant, one to buy some corn salve he said he wanted and the others to do a little trading.
The boys had collected nine dollars from various members of their crowd and this was to be spent for liquor, cigars, and for several packs of cards. All of these things were to be smuggled to the hermit’s den Pender had discovered.
“We can get enough to last us during the encampment,” said Flapp. “And then we can have a good time whenever we wish, and Captain Putnam will never suspect what is going on.”
It did not take the cadets long to reach Oakville, a pretty place located among the hills. There were a dozen stores, a blacksmith shop, two churches, and perhaps fifty houses. Beyond were farms in a state of high cultivation, showing that the inhabitants of that section were thrifty people.
“This town is about as slow as Cedarville,” observed Pender, as they walked up the single street. “How folks can idle their lives away in such a place is what gets me.”
“They don’t know anything of the joys of city life,” returned Flapp. “Some of these people have never seen the inside of a real theater.”
As might be expected, the unworthy cadets lost no time in entering one of the taverns located in Oakville, and here Flapp treated. Then, after cigars or cigarettes had been lit, they proceeded to buy the things desired for the den.
“Laying in quite a stock, ain’t ye?” said the tavern keeper.
“Oh, we are getting this for the whole crowd,” replied Pender carelessly. “But, say,” he added suddenly.
“What is it?”
“We don’t want you to say anything about our buying this stuff.”
“All right, I’ll be mum,” answered the tavern keeper.
From the tavern they proceeded to the general store, where they purchased the packs of cards and a few other things.
While they were making their purchases two girls came in with a market basket between them. One was tall and thin and the other short and rather stout. Yet the girls looked very much alike and were noticeably pretty.
“Fine girls,” whispered Flapp to Rockley, nudging his companion in the ribs.
“Yes,” was the answer, and Rockley began to smile openly on the new arrivals. As the girls did not appear to notice this, he drew closer and tipped his cap.
“Fine day after the storm,” he said smoothly. “Yes, very,” said the taller of the girls, and turned away.
“I suppose you belong in Oakville,” put in Lew Flapp, to the smaller girl.
“Yes,” answered the girl, and turned away to join her companion.
“We are up to the camp on Pine Island,” went on Rockley, following the girls up. “Have you ever been there?”
“Once,” said the taller girl, and began to purchase some articles from the clerk behind the counter.
“You ought to come and take a look at our camp,” continued Flapp. “It’s a real interesting sight.”
“All the girls are welcome,” said Pender, feeling he must say something.
“We’d be willing to show you the way at any time,” added Rockley, and placed his hand on the arm of one of the girls.
“Please let me be,” said the girl, and walked away. A moment later she left the store, and her companion went with her.
“My, but they were shy!” laughed Pender. “Rockley, you didn’t make any impression at all. Nor you either, Flapp.”
“Humph! Wonder who they are?” murmured Lew Flapp.
“Let’s ask the storekeeper and find out.”
“Those girls are twins,” said the proprietor of the establishment.
“Twins!” cried Rockley. “They didn’t look it—not by their difference in sizes.”
“But they did in looks,” said Pender.
“What are their names?”
“The tall one is Alice Staton and the other is Helen Staton. Their father is the local constable, although he runs a big farm for a living.”
“Do they come here often?”
“Pretty often. But they are very shy girls and don’t hardly speak to anybody. They are both studying to be school-teachers.”
In the meantime Helen Staton and her sister Alice were hurrying down the main street of Oakville with flushed cheeks.
“I don’t think those cadets were very nice,” said Helen.
“Certainly they were not very good-looking,” replied Alice. “And I thought they smelt a little of liquor.”
“The idea of their saying they would show us the way to the camp! I guess papa can drive us there if we want to go.”
“I’d like to see it. But I shouldn’t want to go with those boys,” went on Alice.
“Perhaps papa can take us,” said Helen. “But come, we promised mamma we’d hurry back as soon as we could.”
To get home the two girls had to walk for a considerable distance along the
road leading to Bass Lake.
On the way they passed the farm of one Isaac Klem, a man who took great pride in his poultry and his cattle. Klem had forty cows, and two bulls which were worth a good deal of money.
One of the bulls, a black, vicious looking fellow, was tied up in a small lot at the corner of the farm.
The girls were just walking past this lot when Helen happened to glance over her shoulder and set up a cry of alarm.
“Oh, Alice, Mr. Klem’s black bull is loose!”
“Where, Helen?” queried her twin sister.
“There he is, at the fence. See, he is trying to get over!”
The fence she mentioned was of stones piled loosely, one on top of the other. The bull was striking at the stones with his front hoofs. Soon some came down, and then the animal leaped out into the roadway. Then he gave a snort and looked at the girls curiously.
Now as ill luck would have it, each of the twins wore a red shirt-waist. This color enraged the bull, and with a wild snort, he lowered his horns and rushed at the pair, as if to gore them through and through.
CHAPTER XX
THE ROVER BOYS AND THE BULL
About an hour after Lew Flapp and his cronies left camp, Dick Rover and his brothers received permission to do likewise.
“Let us go to the village,” suggested Tom. “I want to buy some cough drops. My throat is raw from the wet weather.”
“And I want to get some reading matter,” added Sam. “A good story of some sort would just suit me.”
“I wouldn’t mind a magazine or two myself,” came from Dick. “But I don’t know if Oakville can supply them.”
They were soon on the way, each in the best of spirits. Tom began to whistle and his brothers joined in.
“Feelin’ putty good,” queried a farmer, who chanced to be leaning over his garden gate as they passed.
“Why not?” retorted Tom. “It’s better to whistle than to cry.”
“Right you are, young man. When one of my hands is whistling I always know he is pitchin’ in.”
The way lay over a hill and around a bend where a number of apple trees lined the road. The apples were within easy reach, and soon each was chewing on the juicy fruit to his heart’s content.
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 116