CHAPTER XXII
THE POACHING
When Otto Ferris had happened into the Senior Dormitory in time to seeTom Forrest hand his fishing-rod to Chub he had thought nothing of it.And when, having found the book he was after, he returned to the Campusand ran into Horace he mentioned the incident as a mere bit ofunimportant news; on a drowsy Sunday afternoon nothing is too slight toserve as conversation. Horace settled himself with his back to a big elmtree and thought it over.
If Doctor Emery should learn of the fact that Chub and Roy had gonefishing he would promptly punish them. But the punishment would besomething not worth considering. But if, by chance, the two boys weredetected fishing on private property, say on old Farmer Mercer'sterritory, they would suffer badly; they might even be expelled. Horacedidn't want anything as bad as that to happen to Chub, for he only halfdisliked that youth, but he couldn't think of anything that would pleasehim more than to see Roy Porter leave school in disgrace. In that casehe could, he believed, very quickly regain his former leadership.
In a few minutes he had thought out a scheme which might work, andwhich, if it did work, would probably bring about the results desired.It was risky, but Horace wasn't a coward, whatever his other faultswere.
He looked about. Otto was deep in his book under the next tree. Horacesmiled to himself and called across to him. Otto listened to the schemewith avidity and promptly pledged assistance.
"What you've got to do," directed Horace, "is to get the sweater. Hekeeps it in the top tray of his trunk; I saw it there a couple of daysago when he opened it."
"But supposing it's locked?"
"I don't believe it's locked," answered Horace. "Anyhow, you go up andsee. I'll wait here."
"Well, but--but why don't you do it?" blurted Otto.
"Now don't you begin to ask questions," replied Horace severely. "You doas you're told. If you don't you may have trouble keeping your place inthe second boat."
"That's all right," whined Otto, "but you more than half promised to getme into the first, and you haven't done it."
"I said I would if I could," answered the other coolly. "If you couldrow as well as Whitcomb I'd give you his place, but I'm not going torisk losing the race just to please you. Run along now."
Otto went, but was soon back again.
"I can't do it," he said. "Tom Forrest's up there asleep on his bed."
"Lazy chump," muttered Horace crossly. "Wait; I'll come along."
There was no doubt of the fact that Tom was sleeping. His snoringreached them outside the door. Horace and Otto tiptoed in and the formerconsidered the situation. Then, motioning Otto toward Roy's trunk whichstood beside the head of his cot, he placed himself so as to watchForrest and cut off that youth's view of the trunk. Otto crept to thetrunk. It was unlocked and the crimson sweater lay in the top of thetill. Down came the lid again noiselessly and Otto retreated to thedoor, the sweater stuffed under his coat. Horace crept after him.
"All right so far," murmured Horace as they went softly downstairs. "Nowwe'll take a walk. Can't you stuff that thing away better than that? Youlook like an alderman. Here, I'll show you."
He folded it flatly and laid it against Otto's chest, buttoning his coatover it.
"That's better. Now we'll cross the field and take a nice quiet walk.And if anyone ever asks you where we went you remember to say that wewalked down the Silver Cove road as far as the branch and came backagain. We went very slow, remember, and were gone about an hour."
"It was unlocked and the crimson sweater lay in the topof the till."]
But once on the road, instead of following it toward the village theycrossed it and made up through the woods. When they reached the creekthey turned up it and went stealthily, keeping a sharp lookout forChub and Roy. As it was, in spite of their caution, they very nearlywalked on to them at the deep pool, and had they not fallen instantly tothe ground would have been detected. Afraid to move away lest therustling of the branches prompt the others to investigate, they had tolay there for fully a quarter of an hour while Chub whipped the pool andRoy went off to sleep. Then they saw Chub wind in his line, glance atRoy and move toward them. Luckily for them, however, Chub took it intohis head to try the opposite side and so crossed over on the stones andpassed them by. They waited until he had slowly taken himselfdownstream. Then Horace sat up and saw the idle pole lying on the groundalmost at Roy's feet. It was Otto who finally, after much persuasion andthreatening, crept over and secured it without arousing the sleeper.Then, making a little detour, they went on up the creek.
Five minutes brought them to the edge of Farmer Mercer's property and inview of a placard threatening dire punishment to trespassers. Horace nowdonned the crimson sweater, threw his coat to Otto and jointed up thepole.
"Wish I had a line and fly," he muttered. "They'll think he was a crazysort of fisherman, I guess."
Leaving Otto at the wall, he clambered over and stole on. A couple ofhundred yards further on there was a place where the meadow came down tothe stream and where there were neither bushes nor trees to screen it.It was in full view of Farmer Mercer's big white house which lay perhapsan eighth of a mile away across the meadow. Here Horace, areadily-distinguished crimson spot against the green of the farthertrees, halted and went through the motions of casting his line. But allthe time, you may be sure, he kept one eye on the white house. He hadlanded just one mythical trout and was preparing to cast again when hiseye caught a dark figure stealing along the porch toward the meadowgate. Out flew the non-existent line. Through the gate hurried FarmerMercer. Then, as though catching sight of the latter for the first time,Horace became apparently panic-stricken. He dropped his pole, picked itup again, looked this way and that for escape, made as though tossing atrout back into the stream, and finally, when the farmer was less thantwo hundred yards away, dropped his pole again and plunged into thebushes.
"Hi!" shouted the pursuer. "Hi! Come back, you rascal!"
But Horace refused the invitation. Instead he made for the spot whereOtto was awaiting him, running, however, so slowly that the farmer hadhim in sight for fully a minute as he threaded his way through the treesalong the creek. The farmer's cries continued and the farmer stillpursued, trying his best to head off the fugitive. But he was running alosing race, for when Horace picked up Otto they ran in earnest and allthe farmer had for his trouble was a discarded fishing pole minus lineor hook and a vivid memory of a crimson sweater.
The two boys made a short cut for the school, but, as luck would haveit, when they reached the dormitory the troublesome Tom Forrest was wideawake. So Horace, who had stowed the sweater under his own coat thistime, had to smuggle it under his pillow and await Tom's departure. ButTom apparently had no present intention of leaving. And a few minuteslater Chub and Roy clattered in. When they saw Horace and Otto theydeferred telling Tom about his pole, and Chub laid himself down, verystiffly because of his own pole, on Roy's bed. Conversation languished.Horace mentioned the fact that he and Otto had been for a walk and Chubreplied that they too had taken a stroll. Both sides waited for theothers to leave. Suddenly the supper bell rang. Horace went to thewash-room and Otto followed. Chub slipped off downstairs and Roy toldTom about the pole. Tom good-naturedly told him to let the old thing go.Then Roy, by the merest chance, noticed that his trunk was unlocked,turned the key, slipped it into his pocket and followed Tom down tosupper. A moment after when Horace went to return the sweater to itsplace he found that he was too late. After a second of indecision heopened his own trunk and hid the garment down at the bottom of it. Thenhe locked the trunk securely and, with Otto at his heels, followed theothers.
It was at half-past nine the next morning that Roy was summoned to thePrincipal's office. A rather stout, hard-featured man of middle-age whomRoy had never seen before to his knowledge, sat beside the Doctor'sdesk.
"Porter," said the Doctor, "does this belong to you?"
He took a fishing-rod from the desk and held it out. Roy looked at itand shook his head.
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"No, sir," he answered.
"Do you know whose it is?"
"No, sir."
"Do you own a fishing-rod?"
"No, sir."
"Where were you yesterday afternoon at--" The Doctor looked inquiringlyat the stranger.
"Four o'clock," prompted the latter gruffly, viewing Roy with unfriendlygaze. Roy hesitated and his heart sank. Then,
"I was asleep, sir," he answered.
"Ah!" The Principal paused and tapped softly on the polished surface ofthe desk. Then, "In the dormitory, you mean?" he asked.
"No, sir, I wasn't in the dormitory."
"Not in the dormitory? But you just said you were asleep?"
"Yes, sir, I was."
"Whereabouts, then?"
"By Wissick Creek, at what the fellows call the Deep Hole."
The stranger snorted triumphantly.
"Why did you go there to sleep?" asked Doctor Emery.
"Why, sir, I--I was out walking and--and I laid down and got sleepy. SoI just went to sleep."
He knew that it sounded awfully silly and unconvincing. Evidently theDoctor thought so too, for he smiled gently and regretfully.
"Don't you think that's rather a strange tale to tell, Porter?"
"It's the truth, sir."
"It's a tarnation lie, that's what it is," said the strangervindictively. Roy turned hotly.
"It isn't a lie," he cried. "And I don't know what business it is ofyours, anyhow!"
"Well, I rather guess it's my business--" began the other. But DoctorEmery held up a hand.
"Leave him to me, if you please, Mr. Mercer," he said quietly. "Porter,this gentleman tells me that he discovered a boy, presumably one of myboys, fishing at the bottom of his meadow at about four o'clockyesterday afternoon. The boy saw him coming and ran away, leaving thispole behind him. The boy wore--"
"Ask him what he wore," interrupted Farmer Mercer.
"Just what I have on now," answered Roy. "And this cap," he added,holding it forth.
"Yes, you had a cap all right," said the farmer. "But I don't supposeyou happened to have on a red sweater, eh? A dark red one?"
"No, I didn't, sir," replied Roy.
"You have such a sweater, I understand, however," said the Doctor.
"Yes, sir, I have a crimson sweater."
"That's what it was, crimson," said the farmer.
"But I didn't wear it yesterday. I haven't had it on since camp."
"Have you loaned it to any one recently?" asked the Doctor.
"No, sir."
"Where is it kept?"
"In my trunk."
"Could any one borrow it without your knowing of it?"
"Why, I suppose so, sir; that is, if my trunk was unlocked."
"Do you keep it unlocked?"
"No, sir, not very often."
"Then you think it would have been impossible for anyone to have takenit without your knowledge?"
"I think it would, sir."
"Do you know of anyone else in school who has a red sweater?"
"No, sir. Gallup has a red and white striped one."
"There wasn't no stripes on the one I saw," said Farmer Mercerdecidedly.
"Porter," said the Doctor after a moment's silence. "I'm sorry that Ican't bring myself to believe your story. Is there anyone who cansubstantiate it? Were you alone yesterday afternoon?"
"I'm sorry, sir, that you won't believe me. I wasn't on this man's landyesterday, and I don't think I ever was. Anyhow, I never fished on it.I've never fished since I came here."
"I hope you are telling the truth," answered the Doctor gently. "Butcircumstantial evidence is sadly against you. There is no one who canprove that you were at the Deep Hole at four o'clock?"
"No, sir, no one knows that I was there at that time." Chub, hereflected, had left him at least a quarter of an hour before and socouldn't have been sure of his whereabouts at four o'clock.
"Hm! That's unfortunate," said the Doctor. He turned to Farmer Mercer."I don't think I need trouble you to remain, sir. I regret deeply thatthis has occurred and assure you that punishment will be justly metedout to the culprit."
The farmer arose.
"It's got to be stopped, Doctor," he said. "As for the culprit you'vegot him right here. That's the boy without a doubt. Put him in his redsweater and I'll tell you mighty quick. Just about his height he was,and kinder slimmish like. Well, you know you own business best. Goodmorning, Doctor."
And the farmer passed out with a final ugly look at Roy.