Tom Fairfield's Pluck and Luck Part 5

"I know that. I'm not saying but what you're in the right. But it's the effect of the thing I'm looking at. Tom, do you want to see two factions in the Soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s? Two bunches of fellows, one striving against the other? Do you?"

"No, I don't know as I do. But once we get rid of Sam, Nick will take himself off, too, and then everything will be fine."

"I'm not so sure of that. You might drive Sam out of Elmwood, but I doubt it. And look here, Tom. You know there's going to be a big Freshman cla.s.s this year."

"So I heard, but what has that got to do with it?"

"Lots. You know, without my telling you, that the Sophs and Freshies are mortal enemies. There'll be hazing to do--whisper it of course--and with the Soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s divided against itself, where are you second-year chaps going to be when the Freshies cut up--let me ask you that?"

"How will the cla.s.s be divided?" inquired Jack.

"Why, if you make this fight against Sam you can't expect his friends to hob-n.o.b with you when it comes to hectoring the Freshies."

"Sam hasn't any friends!" burst out Bert.

"Oh, don't you fool yourself," said Bruce quickly. "Sam has money, and no fellow with cash need be without friends--or at least fellows who call themselves such. Then, too, he's got a big car I understand, and that will go a great ways toward making friends for him. Besides, there's Nick to count on. His friends will be Sam's, and Nick has quite a few, as he isn't such a bully as Sam is. Nick's a Junior now, and the Juniors will side with the Freshmen.

"Now I don't want to be a croaker, or a death's head at this gay party, but you mark my words, if you carry this fight against Sam to the limit it will mean a heap of trouble for the school. And, more than that, the Soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s will be torn apart.

"Don't do it!" pleaded Bruce, arising in his earnestness, and addressing Tom's chums. "Let it drop, or, if you feel that you have to get even, do it some other way. I know it's galling to sit still and suffer--but think of the school. You owe something to Elmwood Hall!

Besides, I think you'd have your own troubles in getting unanimous cla.s.s action against Sam."

"How so?" asked Tom quickly. "As soon as I tell the fellows how mean he acted they'll vote to send him to Coventry at once, I'll wager. Not a man will speak to him."

"Don't be so sure," said Bruce quietly. "Tom, I'm going to try a little experiment, if you'll allow me. I guess all you fellows know that I'd stick up for my rights as hard as any one; don't you?"

"Sure!" came the quick chorus.

"And I wouldn't stand for any ill-treatment of my friends, or my cla.s.s.

But I put the school above my own feelings, and my cla.s.s next. And you ought to, also, Tom. If you feel that you have to take it out of Sam and Nick, do it--er--well--say _privately_," and Bruce whispered the word with a smile.

There was a murmur of understanding.

"But what's the experiment?" asked Tom, curious to know what his friend would propose.

"It's this," answered Bruce. "If I prove to you that you'd have trouble in rallying the whole Soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s under your banner, Tom, to take some action against Sam, will you agree to let the matter drop, for a time, at least?"

Tom did not answer at once. He looked at Bruce, who returned his gaze steadily. Then, somehow understanding that his friend had a deeper meaning than he had yet disclosed, our hero replied:

"Go ahead; Bruce. I'm with you. Lead on to the experiment, as you call it."

"Do you all agree?" inquired the older lad. "Will you let this matter rest until you hear from Tom again?"

"Sure," answered Jack and Bert, and the others chorused an a.s.sent.

"Then you wait until I send for you, Tom," went on the post-graduate student. "It may take a day or so to get the experiment in shape."

There were murmurs of surprise as Bruce bowed himself out, and some were still rather in favor of taking summary action against Sam and Nick. But Tom said:

"No, I've pa.s.sed my word, and that goes. Bruce knows what he's talking about, and we'll wait and see what he has up his sleeve. If his experiment doesn't work, he'll be the first one to admit it, and then he'll say the bars are down, and we can do as we like."

As he finished there came across the campus the sound of a bell ringing.

"Well, I know what I'm going to do right now, and that is get ready for grub!" exclaimed Bert. "Sam and Nick can wait for all of me, but I'm hungry."

Soon a merry party had gathered in the big dining room, for more students had arrived by later trains, or other conveyances, and Tom and his chums were kept busy renewing old acquaintances, or making new ones.

"There are a raft of Freshies," commented Jack to his chum, as they lingered over the dessert. "We'll have our hands full hazing them, all right!"

"Oh, we can do it," declared Bert. "We always have."

"Humph! We've been Sophs such a terrible long time," murmured Tom with a smile.

Discipline was rather lax that night, and there was much visiting to and fro in the rooms. The proctor and the professors were kept busy registering new students and did not pay much attention to the older ones, including Tom and his chums, who made merry.

"Oh, you boys!" exclaimed Demosthenes Miller, or "Demy" as he was called--the studious janitor. "Oh, you boys! Will you ever settle down?"

"I'm afraid not," replied Tom, as he invaded the lower regions of the man who attended to the fires, to borrow a long poker. "We want this for some fun. There's a prof. who has a room just under ours, and he wears a wig. It's out on the window sill to air, and I think I can hook it."

"Oh, young gentlemen, don't, I beg of you!" expostulated the janitor.

But they paid no heed to him, and hurried off with the long poker, while the studious janitor, to drown his apprehension, took up a Latin book which he was struggling through, endeavoring to educate himself in the cla.s.sics.

Tom was engaged in the exciting, if forbidden, sport of trying to lift the wig of the unfortunate professor from the ledge beneath his room window, when there came a knock on his door.

"Oh ho!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bruce Bennington, as he entered. "Up to your old tricks, I see. Well I can't blame you. I did the same thing once.

What are you after, a bottle of pop?"

"A wig," explained Tom, briefly. "Want a try for it?"

"Not me. I've got to walk pretty straight you know. I'm regarded as a sort of professor now, and I suppose, if I did my strict duty, I'd report you. But I'm off duty to-night. I say, Tom, are you ready now for that experiment I spoke of?"

"Sure I am. But--" and Tom looked suggestively at the poker and motioned downward to where the wig was still reposing.

"We'll get it up while you're gone," said Jack.

"You will not!" cried Tom. "Do you think I want to miss all the fun?

Wait until I get back. Will your experiment take long, Bruce?"

"It may take most of the evening. But the wig will keep, and you may think up a better plan in regard to it. Why not subst.i.tute another for it while you're at it?"

"By Jove! The very thing!" cried Jack.

"You can get one while you're in town if you like," went on Bruce dryly, "for I'm going to drag you off to town, Tom."

"Good! I'm with you. Mind now," he cautioned his chums, "don't touch that wig until I get back."

They promised, and, though wondering what Bruce had in mind, they asked no questions.