Part 10 (1/2)
”What has Holden to do with it?” growled Larkspur.
”We know he's the leader of your cla.s.s.”
”He is not. Dudd Flockley is our leader.”
”Then Flockley sent you, eh?” put in d.i.c.k.
”Yes, if you want to know it.”
”Well, tell Flockley to mind his own business,” answered d.i.c.k sharply.
”If Frank Holden wants us we'll come, but not otherwise.”
”Are you hazing any of the other fellows?” asked Tom.
”We'll haze them after we get through with you,” growled Larkspur, and then the Rovers heard him tiptoe his way down the hall.
”I think this attack was gotten up by the Flockley-Koswell crowd,”
was d.i.c.k's comment. ”Maybe it wasn't sanctioned by the other sophs at all.”
The Rovers waited a while longer and then with caution they pulled back the bed and the table and opened the door. By the dim light in the hallway they saw that the place was deserted. Somebody had run a mop over the polished floor, thus taking up most of the water.
”I guess they have given it up for to-night,” said d.i.c.k, and his words proved correct.
After waiting a good hour the three Rovers rearranged the room, hanging up some of the bedding and rugs to dry near the window, which they left wide open. Then they locked the door and went into d.i.c.k's room, which had not been disturbed. As they did this another door opened, and Stanley poked out his head, followed by Max.
”We heard it all,” said the Southern lad with a chuckle. ”Hope you doused 'em good!”
”We did,” answered Tom. ”They didn't tackle you, did they?”
”No; but I suppose they will later, or to-morrow.”
”I am ready for them if they come,” came from Max. ”I got this,” and he held up a long, white sack.
”What is it?” asked Sam.
”Plaster of Paris. If they tackle me I'll make 'em look like marble statues already.” And the German-American youth winked one eye suggestively.
Despite the excitement the Rover boys slept soundly for the rest of the night. All were rather sleepy in the morning, but a good wash in cold water brightened them greatly. While getting ready for breakfast they looked for Flockley and Koswell, but those two students, as well as Larkspur, kept out of sight.
”They don't like the way matters turned out last night,” said d.i.c.k.
On entering the dining-room they saw the soph.o.m.ores at a nearby table.
Flockley and Koswell glared darkly, while as they pa.s.sed, Larkspur put out his foot to trip Sam up. But Sam was on guard, and instead of stumbling he stepped on the fellow's ankle, something that caused Larkspur to utter a gasp of pain.
”What did you do that for?” he demanded savagely.
”Sorry, but you shouldn't sprawl all over with your feet,” answered the youngest Rover coldly, and pa.s.sed on to his seat. When he looked back, Larkspur, watching his chance so that no teacher might see him, shook his fist at Sam.