CHAPTER XXVII

  TOM IS KIDNAPPED

  For a moment Tom looked at Sid. The same thought was in both theirminds.

  "Had we better tell Dutch?" asked Tom.

  "It wouldn't be a bad plan."

  "All right, I'll let him know. If Gladdus and his crowd find out ourplans they'll spoil 'em."

  So Tom hastened after Dutch Housenlager and related the finding of thematchbox and the suspicion engendered by it--that Gladdus had beenlistening in the hall.

  "All right," remarked Dutch. "We'll change our plans a bit. I'll see youlater."

  Tom and Sid did not feel like resuming their studies after what hadhappened. Instead they sat talking of the prospective dinner, Sidstretched lazily at full length on the sofa, while Tom luxuriouslysprawled in the easy chair.

  "I tell you what it is, old man," said Sid, "it's mighty comfortablehere, don't you think?"

  "It sure is."

  "And to think that next term we'll have to go into the west dormitory,"went on Sid. "We'll be bloomin' sophs then. At least you will."

  "That's very nice of you to say so, but what about yourself?"

  "I'm not so sure," and Sid spoke dubiously. "That confounded Latin willbe the death of me. I tell you what it is. I was never cut out for aclassical scholar. Now, if they had a course of what to do on firstbase, I'd be able to master it in, say, a four years' stretch. But I'mafraid I'll go the way of our mutual acquaintance Langridge, and spendtwo years as a freshman, at which rate I'll be eight years gettingthrough college."

  "Oh, I hope not. You stand better than Langridge. He's smart--not thatyou aren't--but he doesn't get down to it. It's just like his baseballpractice, if he would only----"

  Then Tom stopped. He didn't want to talk about the player whom he wastrying to supplant on the nine. "Well," he finished, "I guess I'll turnin. We'll have to see Dutch in the morning and learn what the new plansare."

  Housenlager and his fellow members of the freshman dinner committee foundit advisable to make a change after what Sid and Tom had discovered.

  "But we can't alter the time or place of the feed," explained Dutch."It's too late to do that. Anyway, there's no danger once we get insidethe hall, for we've arranged to have the doors bolted and braced andguards posted. The only danger is that they'll get at some of us beforewe get to the place or that they'll get at the eating stuff in some wayand put it on the blink."

  "I shouldn't think there'd be much danger of that," spoke Tom. "Won'tthe man who is going to supply it look out for that end?"

  "I s'pose he will," admitted Dutch, "so the main thing for us to do isto see that we get safely to the hall. I think we'd better not meet downnear the bridge, as I proposed first. You know, we were all going in abody. I think now the best way will be for us to stroll off by ones andtwos. Then there won't be any suspicion. The sophs will be on the watchfor us, of course, but I think we can fool them."

  "Then you mean for each one of us to get to the hall as best he can?"asked Sid.

  "That's it," replied Dutch.

  "Some fellows did that one year," put in Ford Fenton, "but the sophscaught them just the same. My uncle says----"

  He paused, for the group of lads about him, as if by prearranged signal,all put their hands over their ears and all began talking at onceloudly.

  "Hu!" ejaculated Ford. "You think that's funny, I guess."

  "Not as funny as what your uncle might have said," remarked Sid, whosome time previously had planned to have his chums give this signal ofdisapproval the moment Ford mentioned his relative.

  "Well, I guess it's all understood," went on Dutch. "We'll have a sortof go-as-you-please affair until we get to the hall in Haddonfield."

  "I hear Langridge isn't coming," said Ford.

  "Who told you?" asked Sid.

  "Why, he did. I asked him if he was going to be on hand, and I told himabout a dinner where my uncle said----"

  "I guess he doesn't want to come because he is afraid your uncle will bethere," declared Tom with a good-natured laugh.

  "More likely because the dinner isn't going to be sporty enough forhim," was the opinion of Dutch. "Well, we don't want anybody thatdoesn't want to come. But I've got to go and attend to some loose ends.Now mind, mum's the word, fellows, not only as regards talk, but don'tact so as to give the sophs a clue. See you later," and he hurried off.

  Few in the freshman class did themselves justice in recitations that dayfrom too much thinking about the fun they would have at the dinner thatnight. Even Tom fell below his usual standard, and as for Sid, hisrendering of Virgil was something to make Professor Tines (who was agood classical scholar, whatever else he might be) shudder in anguish.But Sid didn't mind.

  "I tell you what it is, old man," spoke Sid to Tom that evening as theyprepared to leave for the spread, "we'd better go it alone, I think."

  "Just what I was about to propose. If we leave here together, somesneaking soph will be sure to spot us. Will you go first or shall I?"

  "You'd better take it first. There's a hole in one of my socks I've gotto sew up. I never saw clothes go the way they do when a laundry getshold of 'em."

  "Can you darn socks?"

  "Well, not exactly what you'd call _darn_," explained Sid. "I justgather up a little of the sock where the hole is and tie a string aroundit. It's just as good as darning and twice as quick. I learned that froma fellow I roomed with at boarding school. But go ahead, if you'regoing."

  It was quite dark now and Tom, after a cautious look around the entranceof the dormitory, to see if any sophomores were lurking about, stolesilently down toward the river. He intended to take the road along thestream, cross the bridge and board a trolley for Haddonfield, which planwould be followed by a number of the freshmen.

  Tom was almost at the bridge when he saw a number of dark shadowsmoving about near the structure.

  "Now, are they sophs or our fellows?" he mused as he cautiously halted.He thought he recognized some of his classmates and went on a littlefurther.

  "Here comes one!" he heard in a hoarse whisper.

  Tom stopped. It was so dark he could not tell friends from foes. But heknew a test. A countersign had been agreed upon.

  "What did the namby-pamby say?" he asked.

  Back came the answer in a hoarse whisper:

  "Over the fence is out!"

  It was the reply that had been arranged among the freshmen. Confidentthat he was approaching friends, Tom advanced. A moment later he foundhimself clasped by half a dozen arms.

  "We've got one!" some one cried, and he recognized the voice of Gladdus."Take him away, fellows, and wait for the next. I guess the freshieswon't have so many at their spread as they think!"

  "Kidnapped!" thought Tom disgustedly as he was hustled away in thedarkness. "Now they'll have the laugh on me and some of the otherfellows all right. They have discovered our countersign or else some onegave it away."

 
Lester Chadwick's Novels
»The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trailby Lester Chadwick
»The Radio Detectivesby Lester Chadwick
»Polly's First Year at Boarding Schoolby Lester Chadwick
»Batting to Win: A Story of College Baseballby Lester Chadwick
»The Rival Pitchers: A Story of College Baseballby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team; or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamondby Lester Chadwick
»The Broncho Rider Boys with the Texas Rangersby Lester Chadwick
»Grit A-Plenty: A Tale of the Labrador Wildby Lester Chadwick
»The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sportsby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe on the Giants; or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolisby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe on the School Nine; or, Pitching for the Blue Bannerby Lester Chadwick
»For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athleticsby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; or, The Rivals of Riversideby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe at Yale; or, Pitching for the College Championshipby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe in the World Series; or, Pitching for the Championshipby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe in the Central League; or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcherby Lester Chadwick
»The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Footballby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe, Home Run King; or, The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Recordby Lester Chadwick
»Bolax, Imp or Angel—Which?by Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe in the Big League; or, A Young Pitcher's Hardest Strugglesby Lester Chadwick