Frank Merriwell's Chums Part 2

As yet there was no light in the room, and, still filled with wonder, Frank asked:

"Was that the regular sentinel out there, Bart?"

"That was our sentinel," was the reply.

"But where are the regular sentinels? I did not see one of them."

Faint chuckles came from several parts of the room, and Hodge replied:

"At a certain hour each night the duties of the regular sentinels take them away long enough for me to get out of my room and in here. See?"

"They must be in the trick?"

"The most of them are. When it happens that one is not, we have to look out for him, and dodge him. To-night those on duty on this floor were all fixed."

Then somebody cautiously struck a match, by the flare of which Frank saw several fellows were gathered in the room.

A lamp was lighted, and Merriwell looked around. Besides Bart, he saw Harvey Dare, George Harris, Wat Snell and Sam Winslow.

"h.e.l.lo, Merriwell, old man," some greeted, cordially, but cautiously.

"Glad to see Hodge has brought you along."

Frank was instantly seized by an unpleasant sensation--a foreboding, or a warning. Harris and Snell were not friends of his; in fact, in the past, they had been distinctly unfriendly. Dare he knew little about, as they had never had much to do with each other. Sam Winslow was a plebe, having entered the academy at the same time with Merriwell, but Frank had never been able to determine whether he was "no good" or a pretty decent sort of fellow.

Had Frank been governed by his first impression, he would have found an excuse to bid that company good-night immediately, but he did not like to do anything like that, for he knew it would cause them to designate him as a cad, and he would be despised for doing so.

He had gone too far to back out immediately, so he resolved to stay a while, and then get out as best he could.

At the window of the room blankets had been suspended, so no ray of light could shine out into the night to betray the little party.

At a glance, Frank saw the room was not occupied by students, for it contained nothing but the bare furniture, besides a box on the table, and the a.s.sembled lads.

Bart saw Frank looking around, and divined his thoughts.

"I suppose you are wondering where you are? Well, this is the room in which Cadet Bolt committed suicide. It has been closed ever since, as no fellow will occupy it. It is said to be haunted."

This appealed to Frank's love of the sensational. Besides that, he fancied he saw an opportunity for some sport that was not down in the programme, and he smiled a bit.

"Of course it isn't haunted," he said. "I don't believe there is a fellow here who believes in ghosts?"

"I don't."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Such stuff is rot!"

"I don't believe in anything I can't see."

Thus the a.s.sembled lads expressed themselves, and Frank smiled again.

"While I do not believe this room is haunted," he said, "I once had a rather blood-curdling experience with something like a disembodied spirit--an adventure that came near turning my hair snowy white from fright and horror. I will tell you about it. The original of my ghost happened to be a fellow who committed suicide, and he----"

"Say, hold on!" gurgled Wat Snell, who had declared that believing in ghosts was "all rot." "What are we here for--to listen to ghost stories or to have a little picnic?"

"Oh, drop your ghost yam," said George Harris, who had a.s.serted that he did not believe in anything he could not see. "You may tell it to us some other time."

"But this is a really interesting story," insisted Frank. "You see, the fellow shot himself three times, and when he did not die quickly enough to be suited, he cut his throat from ear to ear, and his specter was a most ghastly-appearing object, bleeding from the bullet wounds and having a gash across its throat from----"

"Say, will you let up!" gasped Harris. "If you don't, I'll get out!"

"Oh, I don't want to break up this jolly gathering," said Frank, his eyes twinkling, "but I was just going to tell how the ghost----"

"Cheese it!" interrupted Sam Winslow. "Talk about something besides ghosts, will you? You are not given to dwelling on such unpleasant subjects, Merriwell."

"But I thought you fellows didn't take any stock in ghosts?"

"We don't," grinned Harvey Dare; "and that's just why we don't want to hear about 'em."

"We've got something else to do besides listen to yarns," said Harris.

"Let's proceed to gorge." And he began opening the box that sat on the table.

CHAPTER III.

AN IRRESISTIBLE TEMPTATION.

"Harris is lucky," said Sam Winslow. "His folks send him a box every now and then, and he gets it through old Carter, at the village."

"I have hard enough time smuggling it in," said Harris, "and I share when I get it here."

"For which we may well call ourselves lucky dogs," smiled Harvey Dare.

"A fellow gets awfully weary of the regular rations they have here."

"That's right," agreed Frank. "I often long for the flesh pots of Egypt, or almost anything in the way of a change of fare."

"Well, here's where you get it--if you'll agree not to spring any more ghost yarns on us," said Harris. "Just look over this collection of palate ticklers, fellows."

"Fruit cake!" gasped Sam, delightedly. "Oh, how my stomach yearns for it!"

"Cream pie!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Wat Snell. "Yum! yum! Somebody please hold me!"

"Tarts!" panted Harvey Dare. "Oh, I won't do a thing to them!"

"Look at the cookies and a.s.sorted good stuff!" murmured Bart, ecstatically. "I shall be ready to perish without a tremor after this!"