CHAPTER XI
AN ELECTRIC SHOCK
Late that same afternoon Tom, having gone to town alone, that he mightaccomplish his mission unobserved, came back with a coil of telegraphwire concealed under his sweater at his waist. He smuggled it toLangridge's room without being seen.
"That's the stuff, old man," cried Langridge heartily, but there was anair of patronizing superiority in his manner that Tom did not like.Still, he reasoned, the other could not rid himself of an inborn habitso easily, and it really seemed, in spite of the fact that Tom might beregarded as a rival of Langridge, that the latter was doing his best tobe friendly.
"I s'pose it wouldn't do to ask what's up, would it?" inquired Tom as hewas about to leave.
"Hardly," replied Langridge with what he meant to be a genial smile. "Itmight get out, you know. But you can be in at the death, so to speak.The whole freshman class will assemble at the boathouse about nine.There'll be a full moon and we can have a good view of the sophs'pavilion."
"Are they going to be there?"
"I hope so. In fact I'm counting on it. This is the night of theirannual moonlight song festival. They gather in and about the pavilionand make the night hideous with snatches of melody. They're rottensingers--the sophs this year--but that is neither here nor there. Thepoint is that they'll be there, and it's up to us freshmen to give 'em alittle surprise party."
"I suppose you're going to arrange the wire so they can't get into thepavilion without cutting it," suggested Tom, "or else put it across thepath to trip them up."
"Er--yes--something like that," replied Langridge hastily. "Oh, by theway, have you a knife? I lost mine out rowing the other day. I'll giveit back to you to-morrow."
Tom passed over his knife, a good-sized one, with his name engraved onthe handle. His father had given it to him.
"Don't lose it," he cautioned. "I think a great deal of it."
"I'll not," promised Langridge. "Now don't forget to be on hand."
"I'll be there to see the fun."
"And maybe you'll see more than you bargain for," whispered Langridgeas Tom went out. There was a curious look on the face of the 'varsitypitcher.
One by one, by twos and threes or in small groups, silent figures stoleaway from dormitories that night and gathered about the pavilion or theboathouse, which was not far from it. To the first place went thesophomores, bent on having their annual frolic of song. To the secondrendezvous traveled the freshmen, but they went more silently, for theydid not want their natural enemies to learn of their presence.
The sophomores, however, were on their guard. From time immemorial ithad been the custom for the first-year class to endeavor to break up thesong fest of their predecessors, and it was the function of the firstyears to do this in as novel a manner as possible.
Tradition had it that various methods had been used, such as settingfire to the pavilion, digging pits in the paths that led to it andcovering the holes with leaves and grass, laying a line of hose to theplace, so that at an opportune moment the singers would be drenched androuted. The latter was a favorite plan and most successful.
But to-night a more strict guard than usual had been kept over thebattle-scarred pavilion. All that day a committee had been on the watchso that it was thought impossible that any hose could be used or anypits dug.
Now the sophomores were beginning to gather in and around the smallshelter. They were jubilant, for they began to think they had outwittedtheir never-ceasing enemies.
Meanwhile the freshmen were not idle. In large numbers they had quietlygathered at the boathouse, in the dark shadows of which they remained inhiding, waiting for the opening of the singing and the consequentbreaking up of the sophomore body.
"What's the game?" asked Sid of Tom as those two and Phil Clinton madetheir way to the rendezvous. "Water pipes, fire or something brand new?"
"You can search me," was Tom's non-committal answer. "I hope it'ssomething new. There doesn't seem to be any provisions for a bonfire andnone of us swiped the fire hose."
"Langridge and his committee have it in charge," said Phil. "There'ssome secrecy about it, and very properly, too. Last year, I understand,it leaked out and the fun was spoiled."
Tom did not reply, but he wondered what use Langridge was going to makeof the wire.
"They ought to start soon now," whispered Phil. "There's a good crowd ofthem there."
"Yes, and they've got scouts out all around," added Sid as he and hischums saw a number of shadowy figures patroling the stretch around thepavilion. "They're not going to be caught unawares."
"I don't see how we're going to break 'em up," remarked Phil.
"You wait and you'll see," exclaimed Langridge, who was moving aboutamong the freshmen. "Say, Ed, you'd better go now and light the fuse."
"Is it an explosion?" asked Sid eagerly.
"Better be careful," cautioned Phil.
Tom's heart was thumping. He began to see the use to which the wiremight be put, and he was afraid lest he had taken part in some dangerousprank. If Langridge had planned to explode a mine under the pavilion,some one might be injured.
"There'll be no explosion, only an explosion of wrath pretty soon,"replied Langridge. "Go ahead, Kerr. Let 'em sing one song and they'llthink we've called it off. Then let it go."
Kerr hurried off, keeping in the shadows. No sooner had he started thana movement was noticeable among the sophomores, groups of whom couldeasily be seen now, as the moon was well up.
Then, on the stillness of the night, there broke a song. It was an oldmelody, sacred to Randall, and, in spite of being rendered by hilariousstudents, it was well done.
"That's not half bad," commented Phil. "They've got some good membersfor the glee club there."
"It's punk!" sneered Langridge. "Wait until we have a song fest. We'llmake them feel sick!"
The melody continued, and coming as it did from the distance, while allabout was the wondrous beauty of the moon, the effect produced on TomParsons was one of distinct pleasure. It was like being at some play.
"What a pity," he thought, "to spoil it all! What brutes we collegefellows are--sometimes. I like to listen to that."
The song was softer now, and then it broke forth into a full chorus,well rendered.
"It's a shame to break it up," reasoned Tom. Then a class feelingovercame him. After all, the sophomores were their traditional enemies,and college tradition demanded that they disperse the gathering.
"Kerr ought to be there now," whispered Langridge. "The fuse will burnfor two minutes."
"Fuse--fuse," repeated Phil. "It _must_ be an explosion. You want to becareful, Langridge."
"Oh, I know what I'm doing," was the answer. "But mind now, no squealing,whatever happens."
"You needn't say that," was Phil's quick retort. "We're Randall Collegefreshmen," as if that was all that was necessary.
Kerr glided in from somewhere.
"Well?" asked Langridge.
"It's all right."
The sophomores had started another song. They were about through thesecond verse when there came a series of sudden yells from the pavilion.There were cries of pain, and Langridge, in the midst of the freshmen,called out:
"That's it! That's the stuff! Rah! rah! sophs! This time we break youup. Cheer, boys, cheer!"
The freshmen set up an exultant cry as it became evident that, in someway, the gleeful singing of the second-year lads had been stopped. Therewas an excited movement in the pavilion, yet the waiting freshmen couldnot see that anything had taken place.
Then came a cry--two exclamations--louder and more anguished than anythat had preceded. There was a yell--a protesting yell--and then someone in the pavilion shouted:
"Cut it, fellows! The hand railing is charged with electricity!"
"Three cheers for the freshmen!" called Langridge, and the response camespontaneously, for his mates knew that they had triumphed over thesophomores.
Suddenly above the confused cheering and shouting t
here came anothercry.
"Help me, fellows! Oh, help--help!" screamed some one inside thepavilion.
There was a confused movement among the singers. Something seemed tohave happened--something serious. The freshmen stopped their cheeringand crowded up. A big sophomore broke through the throng and dashedtoward the college.
"What's the matter?" called Tom, and he had an uneasy feeling as heasked the question.
"Matter? It's you confounded freshmen, that's what's the matter! Gladdusand Battersby have been knocked unconscious."
"Unconscious?"
"Yes, by a powerful current of electricity. Get out of my way, fresh, orI'll knock you down! I'm going for a doctor. Some of you had betternotify the proctor," he added to a few of his classmates who followedhim on the run. "This is serious business."
"Come on, fellows," advised Langridge. "It's all right. We broke up thepavilion meeting all right."
"But maybe some one is seriously hurt," said Sid.
"Nonsense, it was only a current from the incandescent light lamps. Itcouldn't hurt them. Come on, take a sneak away from here. We've had ourfun. And mind, everybody keep his mouth shut," and Langridge disappearedin the shadows of the trees, while ahead of him panted several sophomoreson their way to summon a physician.