Dave Porter and his Classmates/Chapter 7
CHAPTER VII
PRISONERS IN THE SCHOOL
Dave and Phil had indeed made a serious mistake, and they knew at once that they were in for a severe lecture, and worse. Job Haskers was naturally an irascible man, and for the past few days he had been in a particularly bad humor.
"Excuse me, Mr. Haskers," said Dave, respectfully. "I didn't know you were in the cutter."
"You did it on purpose—don't deny it, Porter!" fumed the teacher. "It is outrageous, infamous, that a pupil of Oak Hall should act so!"
"Really, Mr. Haskers, it was a mistake," spoke up Phil. "We thought it was Horsehair—I mean Lemond, who was driving."
"Bah! Do I look like Lemond? And, anyway, what right would you have to snowball the driver for this school? It is scandalous! I shall make an example of you. Report to me at the office in five minutes, both of you!"
The boys' hearts sank at this order, and they felt worse when they suddenly remembered that both Doctor Clay and Mr. Dale were away and that, consequently, Job Haskers was, for the time being, in authority. The teacher went back to the cutter, took up the reins, and drove out of sight around the campus entrance.
"Too bad!" was Roger's comment. "I yelled to you not to throw."
"I know you did, but I had already done so," answered Dave.
"And so had I," added Phil.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," exclaimed Shadow, who was in the crowd. "A man once had a mule"
"Who wants to listen to a story at this time?" broke in Ben Basswood.
"Never mind, let's have the yarn," said Dave. "Perhaps it will serve to brighten our gloom," and he smiled feebly.
"This man had a mule in which a neighbor was very much interested," continued Shadow. "One day the mule got sick, and every day after that the neighbor would tell the owner of some new remedy for curing him. One day he came over to where the mule-owner lived. 'Say,' he says, 'I've got the best remedy a-going. You must try it.' 'Don't think I will,' answered the mule-owner. 'Oh, but you must, I insist,' said the neighbor. 'It will sure cure your mule and set him on his feet again.' 'I don't think so,' said the mule-owner. 'But I am positive,' cried the neighbor. 'Just give it a trial.' 'Never,' said the mule-owner. Then the neighbor got mad. 'Say, why won't you try this remedy?' he growled. 'I won't because the mule is dead,' answered the other man. Then the neighbor went home in deep thought."
"Well, that's to the point," said the senator's son, laughing. "For I told them to stop after the damage was done."
In no enviable frame of mind Dave and Phil walked into the school, took off their outer garments and caps, and made their way to the office. Job Haskers had not yet come in, and they had to wait several minutes for him.
As has been said, the teacher was in far from a friendly humor. Some months before he had invested a portion of his savings in some mining stock, thinking that he would be able to make money fast. Now the stock had become practically worthless, and that very morning he had learned that he would never be able to get more than ten per cent. of his money back.
"You are a couple of scamps," he said, harshly. "I am going to teach you a needed lesson." And then the two boys saw that he held behind him a carriage-whip.
Dave and Phil were astonished, and with good reason. So far as they knew, corporal punishment was not permitted at Oak Hall excepting on very rare occasions,—where a pupil had taken his choice of a whipping or expulsion. Was it possible that Job Haskers intended to chastise them bodily?
"Mr. Haskers, I am very sorry that I hit you with that snowball," said Dave. "As I said before, I did not know it was you, and it was only thrown in fun."
"What Dave says is true," added Phil. "I hope you will accept my apology for what happened."
"I'll accept no apologies!" fumed Job Haskers. "It was done on purpose, and you must both suffer for it," and the teacher brandished the whip as if to strike them then and there.
"Mr. Haskers, what do you intend to do?" asked Dave, quietly but firmly.
"I intend to give you the thrashing you deserve!"
"With that whip?"
"Yes, with this whip."
"You'll not do it, sir!"
"What!"
"I say, you'll not do it, sir."
"Hum! We'll see about this!" And the teacher glared at Dave as if to eat him up.
"You have no authority to whip us," put in Phil.
"Who says so?"
"I say so."
"And Phil is right," added Dave. "I'll not allow it, so you may as well put that whip away."
"I'd like to know who is master here, you or I?" demanded Job Haskers, turning red with rage.
"Doctor Clay is master here, and we are under his care. If you try to strike me with that whip I'll report the matter to him," answered Dave. "You may punish me any other way, if you wish, but I won't put up with a whipping."
"And I won't be whipped either," added Phil.
"I'll show you!" roared Job Haskers, and raising the whip he tried to bring it down on Dave's head. The youth dodged, turned, and caught the whip in his hands.
"Let go that whip, Porter!"
"I will not—not until you promise not to strike at me again."
"I'll promise nothing! Let go, I say!"
The teacher struggled to get the whip free of Dave's grasp, and a scuffle ensued. Dave was forced up against a side stand, upon which stood a beautiful marble statue of Mercury.
"Look out for the statue!" cried Phil, in alarm, but even as he spoke Dave was shoved back, and over went the stand and ornament, the statue breaking into several pieces.
"There, now see what you've done!" cried Job Haskers, as the battle ceased for the moment, and Dave let go the whip.
"It wasn't my fault—you shoved me into it," answered Dave.
"It was your fault, and you'll pay the damages. That statue was worth at least fifty dollars. And you'll take your thrashing, too," added the teacher, vindictively.
"Don't you dare to hit Dave," cried Phil, "or me either, Mr. Haskers. You can punish us, but you can't whip us, so there!"
"Ha! Both of you defy me, eh?"
"We are not to be whipped, and that settles it," said Dave.
"I presume you think, because you are two to one, you can get the better of me," sneered the teacher. He knew the two boys were strong, and he did not wish to risk a fight with them.
"I don't want to get the better of anybody, but I am not going to let you whip me," answered Dave, stubbornly.
"If you are willing, we'll leave the matter to Doctor Clay," suggested the shipowner's son.
"You come with me," returned the teacher abruptly, and led the way out of the office to a small room used for the storage of schoolbooks and writing-pads. The room had nothing but a big closet and had a small window, set up high in the wall. The shelves on the walls were full of new books and on the floor were piles of volumes that had seen better days.
"Going to lock us in, I guess," whispered Phil.
"Well, he can do it if he wants to, but he shan't whip me," answered Dave, in an equally low tone.
"Now, you can stay here for the present," growled Job Haskers, as he held open the door. "And don't you dare to make any noise either."
"What about supper?" asked Dave, for he was hungry.
"You shall have something to eat when the proper time comes."
The boys walked into the room, and Job Haskers immediately closed the door and locked it, placing the key in his pocket. Then the lads heard him walk away, and all became silent, for the bookroom was located between two classrooms which were not in use on Saturdays and Sundays.
"Well, what do you make of this?" asked the shipowner's son, after an awkward pause.
"Nothing—what is there to make, Phil? Here we are, and likely to stay for a while."
"Are you going to pay for that broken statue?"
"Was it my fault it was broken?"
"No—he ran you into the stand."
"Then I don't see why I ought to pay."
"He may claim you had no right to fight him off."
"He had no right to attack me with the whip. I don't think Doctor Clay will stand for that."
"If he does, he isn't the man I thought he was."
The two youths walked around the little room, gazing at the rows of books. Then Dave stood on a pile of old books and looked out of the small window.
"See anything worth looking at?" asked his chum.
"No, all I can see is a corner of the campus and a lot of snow. Nobody is in sight."
"Wonder how long old Haskers intends to keep us here?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
With nothing to do, the boys looked over some schoolbooks. They were not of great interest, and soon it grew too dark to read. Phil gave a long sigh.
"This is exciting, I must say," he said, sarcastically.
"Never mind, it will be exciting enough when we face Doctor Clay."
"I'd rather face him than old Haskers, Dave."
"Oh, so would I! When will the doctor be back?"
"I don't know."
An hour went by, and the two prisoners heard a muffled tramping of feet which told them that the other students had assembled in the dining hall for supper. The thought of the bountiful tables made them both more hungry than ever.
"I'd give as much as a dollar for a couple of good sandwiches," said the shipowner's son, dismally. "Seems to me, I'm hollow clear down to my heels!"
"Wait, I've got an idea!" returned Dave.
He felt in his pocket and brought forth several keys. Just as he did this they heard footsteps in the hallway, and Dave slipped the keys back in his pocket.
The door was flung open and Job Haskers appeared, followed by one of the dining room waiters, who carried a tray containing two glasses of milk and half a dozen slices of bread and butter.
"Here is something for you to eat," said the teacher, and directed the waiter to place the tray on a pile of books.
"Is this all we are to have?" demanded Dave.
"Yes."
"I'm hungry!" growled Phil. "That won't satisfy me."
"It will have to satisfy you, Lawrence."
"I think it's a shame!"
"I want no more words with you," retorted Job Haskers, and motioned the waiter to leave the room. Then he went out, locking the door and pocketing the key as before.
"Well, if this isn't the limit!" growled Phil. "A glass of milk and three slices of bread and butter apiece!"
"Well, we shan't starve, Phil," and Dave grinned to himself in the semi-darkness.
"And no light to eat by—and the room more than half cold. Dave, are you going to stand this?"
"I am not," was the firm response.
"What are you going to do? "
"Get out of here—if I possibly can," was Dave's reply.