Tom Fairfield's Hunting Trip: or, Lost in the Wilderness. Chapman Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ a culprit one must first know who he is, and how to catch him. It was the old application of first get your rabbit, though doubtless the professor would have changed the proverb to some milder form of food.

      However, he took up his paper, ordered the servant to remove the debris, and then proceeded to his simple breakfast of a certain bran-like food mingled with milk, a bit of dry toast and a cup of corn-coffee. After which, bristling with as much indignation as he could summon on such cold and clammy food, he went to Dr. Meredith and complained.

      The Head smiled tolerantly.

      “You must remember that it is the holiday season,” he said. “Boys will be boys.”

      “But, Doctor, I do not so much object to the disgraceful exhibition they made of me. I can stand that. No one who knows me, or my principles, would think for a moment that I could consume the amount of food represented there.”

      “No, I think you would be held guiltless of that,” agreed the President.

      “But it is the fact that the young men – our students – could so demean themselves like beasts as to partake of so much gross food,” went on Professor Hazeltine. “After all my talks, showing the amount of work that can be done, mental and physical, on a simple preparation of whole wheat, to think of them having eaten sardines, smoked beef, canned tongue, potted ham, canned chicken – for I found tins representing all those things on my steps, Dr. Meredith. It was awful!”

      “Yes, the boys must have had a bountiful feast,” agreed the President with a sigh.

      Was it a sigh of regret that his days for enjoying such forbidden midnight “feeds” were over? For he was human.

      “I want those boys punished, not so much for what they did to me as for their own sakes,” demanded Professor Hazeltine. “They must learn that the brain works best on lighter foods, and that to clog the body with gross meat is but to stop the delicate machinery of the – ”

      “Yes, yes, I know,” said Dr. Meredith, a bit wearily. He had heard all that before. “Well, I suppose the boys did do wrong, and if you will bring me their names, I will speak to them. Bring me their names, Professor Hazeltine.”

      But that was easier said than done. Not that “Efficiency” did not make the effort, but it was a hopeless task. Of course none of the boys would “peach,” and no one else knew who had been involved.

      Professor Hazeltine came in for some fun, mildly poked at him by other members of the faculty.

      “I understand you had quite a banquet over at your house last night,” remarked Professor Wirt.

      “It was – disgraceful!” exploded the aggrieved one, and he went on to point out how the human body could live for weeks on a purely cereal diet, with cold water only for drinking purposes.

      So the boys had their fun; at least, it was fun for them, and no great harm was done. Nor did Professor Hazeltine discover who were the culprits.

      The school was about to close for the long holiday vacation. Already some of the students, living at a distance, had departed. There were the final days, when discipline was more than ever relaxed. Few lectures were given, and fewer attended.

      Then came the last day, when farewells echoed over the campus.

      “Good-bye! Good-bye!”

      “Merry Christmas!”

      “Happy New Year!”

      “See you after the holidays!”

      “Get together now, fellows, a last cheer for old Elmwood Hall! We won’t see her again until next year!”

      Tom Fairfield led in the cheering, and then, gathering his particular chums about him, gave a farewell song. Then followed cheers for Dr. Meredith, and someone called:

      “Three cheers for Professor Hazeltine! May his digestion never grow worse!”

      The cheers were given with a will, ending with a burst of laughter, for the professor in question was observed to be shaking his fist at the students out of his window. He had not forgiven the midnight feast and its ending.

      “Well, we’ll soon be on our way,” said Tom to Bert, Jack and George, as they sat together in the railroad train, for they all lived in the same part of New Jersey, and were on their way home.

      “What’s the plan?” asked George.

      “We’ll all meet at my house,” proposed Tom, “and go to New York City from there. Then we can take the express for the Adirondacks. We go to a small station called Hemlock Junction, and travel the rest of the distance in a sleigh. We’ll go to No. 1 Camp first, and see how we like it. If we can’t get enough game there, we’ll go on to the other camps. As I told you, we’ll have the use of all three. None of the members of the club will be up there this season.”

      “But will whoever is in charge let us in?” asked Jack.

      “Yes, all arrangements have been made,” Tom said. “There is grub up there, bedclothes, and everything. All we’ll take is our clothes, guns and cameras.”

      “Yes, don’t forget the cameras,” urged Bert. “I expect to get some fine snapshots up there.”

      “And I hope we get some good gun-shots,” put in Tom. “We’re going on a hunting trip, please remember.”

      The time of preparation passed quickly, and a few days later, and shortly after Christmas, the boys found themselves in the Grand Central Station, New York, ready to take the train for camp.

      They piled their belongings about them in the parlor car, and then proceeded to talk of the delights ahead of them, delights in which their fellow passengers shared, for they listened with evident pleasure to the conversation of our friends.

      CHAPTER VI

      DISQUIETING NEWS

      Three men sat in the back room of the road-house, talking in whispers, a much-stained table forming the nucleus of the group. Two of the men were of evil faces, one not so much, perhaps, as the other, while the third man’s countenance showed some little refinement, though it was overlaid with grossness, and the light in the eyes was baleful.

      The men were the same three who foregathered as Tom Fairfield and his chums left the scene of the snowball accident, and it was the same day as that occurrence. It must not be supposed that the men had been there during all the time I have taken to describe the holiday scenes at Elmwood Hall.

      But I left the three men there, plotting, and now it is time to return to them, since Tom and his chums are well on their way to the winter camps in the Adirondacks.

      “Well, what do you think of that plan?” asked Professor Skeel, for he was one of the three men in the back room.

      “It sounds all right,” half-growled, rather than spoke, the man called Murker.

      “If it can be done,” added the other – Whalen.

      “Why can’t it be done?” demanded the former instructor. “You did your part, didn’t you? You found out where they were going, and all that?”

      “Oh, yes, I attended to that,” was the answer. “But I don’t want to get СКАЧАТЬ