Dave Porter at Oak Hall/Chapter 18
CHAPTER XVIII
FEATHERS AND MOLASSES
"It's Job Haskers!"
"If it is, we are in a pickle and no mistake, fellows!"
"Let us face the music and tell the truth," said Phil, and walked to the door and opened it cautiously.
Fortunately for the students of dormitories No. 11 and 12, it was not the second assistant, but Murphy the monitor. He looked in and grinned.
"Rough house, eh?" he whispered. "I thought something was wrong. When did it happen?"
"Some time after supper."
"All right, fix it up and be quiet, and I won't say anything."
"Is Haskers coming around?" asked Roger.
"Not to-night. He has a toothache."
"Bless that toothache," said Buster Beggs, softly; and then the door closed, and the monitor walked off.
"So that's the way Murphy does," sneered Gus Plum. "I've suspected right along that he stood in with you fellows."
"Don't say a word against Murphy," came from Dave. "He is worth a dozen bullies like you, and a hundred such sneaks as Macklin."
"Don't you call me a bully!" retorted Plum, hotly.
"I shall call you that, Plum. And please remember that I have not forgotten that happening on the river," continued Dave.
"Nor have I forgotten it," came simultaneously from Roger and Phil.
"It was your own fault."
"We won't talk about that now," went on Dave. "The question is, are you going to work or not?" and he looked from Plum to Macklin.
"I'll do what I can," whined the sneak. He was afraid the crowd would set upon him and beat him mercilessly.
"Don't you do it," came from the bully. "They can't prove that we had a hand in this."
"Oh, so you acknowledge it," said Ben, quickly. "I must say it's a fine way in which to treat a new fellow like myself."
"Humph! You don't want to be friends," sneered Gus Plum.
"I certainly don't want to be a friend to a bully or a sneak," answered Ben. "I like to pick my company."
"So you won't work to put these rooms into order," said Phil. "That means that you'd rather take the consequences." He paused suggestively.
"I'll work—I'll work!" cried Macklin.
"Then get at it at once!" cried Roger, and the sneak set to work without delay, several of the others helping. He labored with a will, until the perspiration rolled down his face, and soon all the beds were up again and the furniture of the dormitories set where it belonged.
In the meantime Gus Plum was forced into one of the closets and the door was locked upon him. Then half a dozen of the students withdrew to a corner for consultation.
"We've got to get square—no two ways about that," declared Roger. "The only question is, now?"
"Might put him in the cellar, as we did Macklin."
"We could jumble their room, if it wasn't for the other fellows in it," suggested one of the crowd.
"He ought to have a coat of tar and feathers," declared Sam Day. "Just look at the work still to be done here!"
"Lazy is right," answered Dave, and then he smiled oddly. "That puts me in mind of a story I heard——"
"Great Cæsar, he's stealing Shadow's fireworks!" burst out Phil.
"I apologize to Shadow," answered Dave, with a low bow to the lad mentioned. "This is only an idea. It happened at a college in New Jersey. They tarred and feathered a fellow there, but the tar was—molasses!"
"Eureka!" shouted Roger. "Dave has hit the head on the nail, as the tinker said to the ice-man. Molasses it is, and good and thick."
The matter was discussed for a few minutes, and Sam Day and Shadow volunteered to get the molasses, which was kept in a big jug in the kitchen pantry. They were gone fifteen minutes, and returned with a big tin dipper brimming full of the sticky fluid.
"Here's the tar, boys!" he said, in a loud voice, so that Gus Plum might hear, and he winked. "All we've got to do is to heat it up."
"We can do that over Lazy's pocket stove," answered Roger. "Now, boys, for some feathers."
"Tar and feathers!" murmured Macklin, turning pale. "Don't—don't tar and feather me, please, don't!"
"Then hurry up and finish your job," came from one of the students, and the sneak bent to his task with more of a will than ever.
One of the pillows was opened and a quantity of feathers taken therefrom. Then Gus Plum was allowed to come from the closet.
"Now, Plum, you wouldn't do as ordered," said Phil, "so you have got to take the consequences!"
"All right, do your worst!" muttered the bully, defiantly.
"Then you like tar and feathers?" questioned Dave.
"You ain't going to tar and feather me!" howled Gus Plum. "You wouldn't dare to do it!"
"Won't we dare?" said Roger. "Just wait and see."
"Take off his coat, vest, and shirt," came from another. "And then blindfold him."
"I won't stand it," ejaculated the bully, and now he was thoroughly alarmed. "Let me go, do you hear? If you don't, I'll yell."
"Gag him!" ordered Phil, and in a twinkling a cloth gag was forced into the bully's mouth, and a handkerchief was tied over it. Then the fellow was stripped to the waist, and his hands were fastened behind his back.
In the meantime the molasses had been warmed over the pocket stove mentioned. It was smeared on with a whisk broom, and Gus Plum groaned and tried to break away, feeling certain it was tar. Over the molasses went the feathers.
"My! but he's a bird!" remarked Sam Day.
"Say, Plum, you ought to hire out in a dime museum," said another. "They can advertise you as the curio from Borneo—half man and half bird. It will bring you a fortune."
"He'll never get that tar off, never," murmured Macklin. "Oh, this is awful!"
"Keep quiet, unless you want a dose," said Roger, and the sneak ceased speaking instantly.
The bully was in a terrible state of mind, and he was now sorry that he had not helped Macklin to rearrange the dormitories and thus escape the dose just given him.
"I'll make them pay for this—just wait and see!" was what he told himself.
"Now, Plum, listen to me," said Phil, after the work was accomplished and the fellow was a mass of molasses and feathers. "Don't you dare to report this. If you do, we'll make Oak Hall too hot to hold you."
"And don't you dare to say a word," added Dave, to Macklin.
"I—I won't open my mouth," whined the sneak.
"Have the rooms been put into shape?" asked Roger.
"Just about," answered Sam Day. "The rest we'll have to do ourselves." He referred to the sorting out of the clothing, shoes, books, and papers.
"Did Macklin pick up those tacks?"
"Yes, and the straw, too."
"Then what do you say—shall we let them go?"
"Yes," came from nearly all the others.
"Very well then, out you go!" cried Phil, and opened the door. He pushed Gus Plum headlong into the hall, and Roger flung Macklin after him.
"Now get to your room!" cried Dave. "And mind you, mum's the word, or you'll regret it."
"Yes, you'll regret it," came from some of the others, and then the door was closed and locked, and the students turned their attention to putting the dormitories into proper condition once more. It was quite a task. In spite of what had already been done, and it took them an hour and more.
"I don't want any more rough-housing in mine," remarked Dave. "It's too much of a nuisance." His collar and cuffs were gone, and he did not find them until the next morning. They were in a closet, and a big screw eye had been put through the holes, thus fastening them securely to the wall.
While the boys were finishing up, Gus Plum and Macklin sneaked through the hallway and paused at the door to their own dormitory.
"Don't go in—yet," muttered the bully, who had had the gag removed.
"Why not?" asked the sneak, in surprise.
"They may—may laugh at us. I don't want to be laughed at."
"Where are you going?"
"To the bathroom, to try to get rid of this mess. Come along."
Macklin would have preferred going to bed, but he did not dare to refuse the bully's request. Both hurried to one of the bathrooms, and there the bully discovered that molasses and not tar had been used. At this he breathed a sigh of relief.
"I knew they wouldn't dare to use tar," he said, loftily, while washing the sticky stuff off.
"You're certainly lucky."
"You were a fool to do any work, Chip."
"Well, I didn't want to be killed."
"Rats! You give in too easily. I'm not afraid of that whole crowd," went on Gus Plum.
"I didn't do so very much. I only pretended to keep busy. They did most of the work."
"I shouldn't have lifted my hand, even if they had killed me! I hate them!" added the bully, fiercely.
"What are you going to do next?"
"I don't know yet, but I'll square up, don't you forget that!" was the bitter reply.
"We won't dare to say a word to Dr. Clay——"
"Bah! It wouldn't do any good—the doctor is too anxious to keep his students, so long as they pay. No, Chip, we've got to look out for ourselves. You can see how the old man treated you when you went to him."
It took nearly an hour's work to get rid of the molasses and feathers, and by that time the sneak was thoroughly sleepy.
"Come on and go to bed," he yawned. "I'm sick of it all."
As they passed into the hall they heard footsteps in the rear, and in a moment more they were confronted by Andrew Dale.
"Why, boys, what does this mean?" asked the head assistant, pleasantly. "I thought you were in bed long ago."
"We had to get up," answered Gus Plum, smoothly. "Macklin was taken sick—had the nose-bleed, and I went to the bathroom with him."
"I see. And how is the nose now, Master Macklin?"
"It's all right now, sir—but it did bleed dreadfully.
"Did you hit on anything?"
"No, sir, it just started to bleed of itself. It often does that, but not quite so hard as it did to-night."
"It bled so hard Macklin said he felt dizzy, that's why I went to the bathroom with him," put in the bully of Oak Hall.
"Perhaps we had better have a doctor look into this——"
"No, never mind, Mr. Dale, it's all right now," answered the sneak, quickly. "I don't mind it so very much, anyway—it makes my head feel clearer."
"Yes, it will sometimes do that. Should it get worse, let me know," said Andrew Dale, and passed on to his room.
"What a close call," muttered the bully of the school, and pinched his companion's arm. "Come now, before we meet anybody else." And then they entered their dormitory.