CHAPTER V
BACK TO OAK HALL
As my old readers know, Oak Hall was an up-to-date structure built of brick and stone. Its shape was that of a broad cross, with its front facing the south. On that side, and to the east and west, were the classrooms, while the dining-hall and kitchen and laundry were on the north. Around the school was a broad campus, running down to the Leming River in the rear. Great clumps of oaks were scattered around, giving to the institution its name.
"Hurrah! I see the school!" cried Sam Day, who sat in front with the sleigh driver.
"So do I!" cried Roger.
"Boys, let's give them a song when we drive up!" suggested Dave. "It will prove that we are not quite frozen to death."
"Right you are," responded Shadow Hamilton. "Now then, all together!" And he started up the school song, sung to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne":
"Oak Hall we never shall forget,
No matter where we roam,
It is the very best of schools,
To us it's just like home.
Then give three cheers, and let them ring
Throughout this world so wide,
To let the people know that we
Elect to here abide!"
This was sung with great gusto and immediately following came the well-known Hall rally:
"Baseball!
Football!
Oak Hall!
Has the call!
Biff! Boom! Bang! Whoop!"
"That's the way to do it!" sang out Dave, and then, as the sleigh drew up to the front door of the academy, he started some doggerel also sung to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne" and just then becoming popular:
"We're here because we're here because
We're here because we're here!
We're here because we're here because
We're here because we're here!
We're here because we're here because
We're here because we're here!
We're here because we're here because—
We're nowhere else just now!"
The boys sang as loudly as they could, and kept it up until the front door of the Hall opened and Job Haskers appeared, attired in a dressing-gown and wearing slippers.
"Here! here! stop that racket!" cried the teacher who could never see any fun in anything. "Do you want to awaken the entire Hall?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Haskers; we only thought we'd let you know that we had arrived," answered Dave, sweetly.
"Well, there's no need to act like a lot of hoodlums," growled Job Haskers. "I thought you were all storm-bound at Raytown," he went on. "Lamond brought in word that the train had broken down."
"It did break down, but we hired this sleigh to bring us over," answered Roger. "We said the man could put up here over-night and go back in the morning."
"Ahem! I don't know about that. We are not in the habit" began the teacher, when somebody caught him by the arm and came to the front. It was Doctor Clay, also in a dressing-gown, and smiling broadly.
"How do you do, boys?" he said, cheerily. "Glad to see you! So you thought you couldn't stay away, even if the train did break down? I rather suspected some of you would try to get a sleigh over. Come right in. You must be rather cold—or did the singing keep you warm?"
"How do you do, Doctor Clay?" was the answering cry, and all of the boys bounced out of the turnout, ran up the steps, and shook hands. Job Haskers was "left in the cold," so to speak, and stood in the background in disgust. He thought it was "bad discipline" to treat the scholars too good-naturedly. "Hold them down with a rod of iron," was his motto, and the boys knew it only too well.
Matters were speedily explained to the master of the school, and he directed Job Haskers to call Lamond and have the horses and the sleigh taken care of, and then told Shadrach Mellick to come in and he would be given a room for the night and his breakfast in the morning. The farmer was paid off and was well pleased over the treatment received.
"You appear to be the only one who has suffered," said Doctor Clay to Nat Poole. "But a good night's sleep will probably fix you up, and the housekeeper can look after your clothing."
"I have plenty of other clothing in my trunk," answered Poole, and then went off to the dormitory he occupied with Gus Plum and a number of others.
Dave and his chums occupied Dormitories Nos. 11 and 12, and there they found several of the other students awaiting them, including Luke Watson, who was noted as a singer and banjo-player, Bertram Vane, always called "Polly," because his manner was so girlish, and little Chip Macklin, who had been the school sneak but who had now turned over a new leaf.
"It does my heart good to set eyes on you fellows again!" cried Luke Watson. "If it wasn't so late I'd get out my banjo and sing a song in your honor."
"Yes, and have old Haskers up here, giving us extra work for to-morrow," answered Ben. "No, thank you, Luke, not so early in the season, please."
"Delighted to see you all," lisped Polly Vane. "I trust you all had a real nice time."
"I certainly did," answered Dave. "How about you, Polly? Did they invite you to any molasses-pulls or pink teas?"
"Oh, I had a glorious time, Dave. My two cousins visited us—splendid girls—and they had some other girls come in, and we"
"All played blindman's-buff and hunt-the-slipper," finished Sam. "Wasn't that too delicious for anything!" and he said this in such a feminine tone that everybody but Polly laughed. The girlish student looked a bit doubtful, but was not offended.
The cold ride had made the boys sleepy, and all were glad to undress and go to bed. Dave was tired out, having put in an extra-long day, and the moment his head touched the pillow he sailed off into the land of dreams and did not awaken until the morning bell was clanging in his ears.
The storm had passed away, and outside it was as clear as crystal. The sun shone brightly, and this helped to put all the boys in good humor, for a gray day at Oak Hall was not to their liking. All were soon dressed, and Dave, Roger, and Phil started to go below together.
In the upper corridor they came face to face with Gus Plum, the former bully. Plum looked rather pale and thin and his eyes were somewhat sunken. That the exposure of his wrongdoings had caused him much worry there could be no doubt.
"How do you do, Gus?" said Dave kindly, and stepping closer he shook a hand that was almost as cold as ice. Phil and Roger merely nodded.
"Oh, I'm pretty well," answered Gus Plum. "How are you?"
"First-rate—that is, I would be if I could only get some word from my father and sister."
"It's too bad that you don't get some kind of message." Plum lowered his voice. "I'd like to see you alone this noon or to-night. I—er—want to talk something over with you," he whispered.
"All right, Gus—I'll try to see you this noon," replied Dave, in a low tone; and then all the students passed down to the dining-hall.
"Plum has certainly got something on his mind," was Roger's comment.
"Well, that exposure was a terrible thing for him," returned Phil. "Of course what he did wasn't as bad as what was done by Nick Jasniff and those two robbers, but it was bad enough. I'd hate to have such a black mark against my name."
The Thanksgiving holidays had been rather short, and those pupils who lived a long distance from Oak Hall had remained at that institution; consequently the routine of studies was taken up that day without much trouble. Fortunately Dave was now placed under Andrew Dale, the first assistant, a teacher loved by all the scholars.
"I know I shall learn faster than ever," said Dave to Roger. "Mr. Dale knows just how to bring out all there is in a fellow."
"I wish the doctor would get rid of old Haskers," returned the senator's son. "I simply can't bear him."
"Haskers is under contract, so I've been told, Roger. Maybe he'll be dropped when the contract runs out."
Just before the bell rang for the morning session Shadrach Mellick drove off in his big sleigh. The schoolboys gave him a parting salute of snowballs which the farmer tried in vain to duck.
"Hi, yeou!" he roared. "Want to knock the top of my head off? Stop it!" And then, to escape his tormentors, he whipped up his horses and dashed out of the Hall grounds at top speed. It was the last the boys saw of him for a long time.
It was not until after the day's sessions were over that Dave got a chance to see Gus Plum alone. The two met in the upper hallway and walked to the dormitory the former bully occupied, and Plum locked the door.
"Sit down, Dave, I want to talk to you," said Plum, and motioned Dave to the easiest chair the dormitory contained. Then he sank on the edge of a bed close by.
"All right, Gus, fire away," answered Dave, and he wondered what was coming next.
"I—er—I don't know how to say it—how to begin," stammered the former bully, and his face showed a trace of red in it. "But I've made up my mind to speak to you, and ask your advice. You saved me from a terrible disgrace, Dave, and I know you'll tell me the best thing to do."
"What about?"
"Well—about everything. First of all, about staying here. At first I thought I could do it—that I could face the crowd and live it down. But now—the way some of the boys treat me—and look at me—and the remarks made behind my back! Oh, Dave, it's terrible,—you can't imagine how hard it is!" And there was a quiver in Gus Plum's voice that meant a great deal.
"I am sorry to hear of this, Gus. But you must live it down, there is nothing else to do."
"I can go away—my folks are ready to send me to another school."
"Don't do it—stay here and fight it out. I know how you feel—I felt that way when they called me 'a poorhouse nobody.'"
"Oh, Dave, I did that! I am so sorry now!"
"You are bound to win in the end—if you do what is fair and honest. So long as Doctor Clay is willing to keep you, you'd better stay by all means."
"Yes, yes, I know, but—but—there is something else." Plum dropped his hands in his face. "I don't know how I am going to tell you, but I want to tell somebody. It's been on my mind ever since it happened." And then, to Dave's amazement, Gus Plum threw himself across the bed and began to sob violently.