Frank Merriwell at Yale Part 40

"And cigars," cried Blossom. "Don't forget cigars. What would a turkey feast be without a smoke afterward?"

Matters were soon arranged, and it was not long before five freshmen left Mrs. Harrington's "quiet house" for freshmen, and started along York Street at a brisk, steady jog.

Merriwell took the lead, and the others came after him at regular distances. The night air was rather sharp, and there was a bright moon.

Along the streets of New Haven the five freshmen ran, and those who observed them supposed they were some crew in training.

Merriwell set a moderate pace, for he knew it was likely they would need all their wind on the return. There was no telling what sort of a sc.r.a.pe they might get into.

Rattleton was behind, taking things as easy as possible. He filled his lungs with the crisp, clear air, and it made him feel like a young race horse, but he held himself in check.

Street actually loafed along, although he managed to keep his place.

"If one of us is caught, he'll be like the gangplank of a steamer,"

called Harry as they left the main part of the city and entered the suburbs.

"How's that?" asked Blossom.

"Pulled in," chirped Rattleton. "Don't stop to throw anything this way.

Keep right on."

"They say Browning was caught swiping turks in his freshman year," said Lewis, "and it cost his old man a round sum to settle and keep the thing quiet, so Bruce wouldn't be expelled. Dad Browning has got money to burn."

"Well, his son's a good match for him," Merriwell tossed over his shoulder.

"A good match for him! Oh, say!" gasped Robinson, exhibiting signs of sudden weakness.

Away they went, laughing and jesting, finally leaving the city behind and getting out into the country. Up hill and down dale they steadily jogged, covering mile after mile in a rather surprising manner.

At length Merriwell called a halt, and they held a council of war.

Blossom said he knew where they were certain to find turkeys, and so they gave him the lead. He confessed that there was a chance of getting into trouble, as the owner of the turkeys had been robbed before, and he might be on the watch. That simply added zest to the adventure, and there was not one of the party who would have consented to look elsewhere for their turkeys.

They finally came in sight of a farmhouse that sat on the side of a hill. Near the house was a stable and sheds. A large orchard lay back of the sheds.

"There," said Blossom. "That is where old Baldwin lives, and his turks are in one of those sheds."

"Crumping jickets--I mean jumping crickets!" exclaimed Harry. "How bright the moon shines! If he's on the watch we can't get anywhere near those sheds without being seen."

The boys began to realize that they were engaged in a decidedly perilous adventure. If one of them should be caught it would mean almost certain expulsion from college, besides a heavy fine if the case were carried to court.

"We'll have to approach by way of the orchard," said Frank. "Does Baldwin keep a dog?"

"Sure--a big half-blood bull."

"That's nice. We are liable to find plenty of fun here. Every man must provide himself with a stout and heavy club to use on that dog in case of emergency. That is important. The lights are out, and it looks as if the farmer and his family were sleeping soundly, but, as Jones says, appearances are sometimes deceptive. We'll have to take our chances.

Three of us will go through the orchard. The other two must get near the house in front and be ready to create a diversion in case we are discovered. Harry, you and Bandy take the front. You are both good runners. If Mr. Baldwin and his dog get after us, attract his attention in some manner."

"And get him after us?"

"That's the idea."

"Jupiter! I wish I had brought a gun for that dog! Bandy, you are liable to have to use those crooked legs of yours in a decidedly lively manner before the night is over."

When everything was arranged Harry and Bandy advanced along the road, going forward slowly, while Frank, Blossom and Little made a detour and came into the orchard.

The hearts of the boys were in their throats, and still there was something about the adventure that filled them with the keenest delight.

Each one had secured a club, and they were ready to give the dog a warm reception if he came for them.

Little watched beneath a tree, while Merriwell and Blossom slipped up to one of the sheds which had a favorable look.

In the meantime Rattleton and Robinson had got near the front of the house and were hiding in a ditch, waiting and listening.

"I am surprised that Merriwell should agree to take a hand in this,"

whispered Harry. "He is a queer chap--has scruples about doing certain things. I thought he would object to hooking out a turk."

"Oh, such a thing as this isn't really stealing," protested Robinson.

"It is different."

"In our minds, but not in the mind of Farmer Baldwin, by a long shot. If we're caught it will be called stealing."

"Oh, well, a fellow who won't do anything like this is too good for this world. He's got wings sprouting."

"You know well enough that Merriwell is no softie," returned Harry, rather warmly. "He's proved that. Any man has a right to his ideas, and if he thinks a thing wrong he's justified in refusing to have anything to do with it."

"Perhaps so; but Merriwell is right on the limit now."

"How?"

"He will not drink, he does not smoke, and I never have heard him cuss."

"Does it make a fellow a man to drink and smoke and swear? I tell you you'll go a long distance before you find a fellow who is any more of a man than Frank Merriwell. I was dead lucky when I got him for a roommate."

"You're stuck on him. I say he is all right, but he is on the limit. I believe the fellows would like him better if he would break over once in a while."

"I doubt it. But it is awful still around here. I wonder where that dog can be? It would be a surprise if the fellows got away with the turks without making any noise at--"

There was a sudden hubbub, a terrible squalling and squawking, the barking of a dog, and the report of a gun!

CHAPTER XX.

A HOT CHASE.

"My stars!" gasped Harry. "There's trouble, sure enough!"