The Putnam Hall Rebellion

“Headache is good!” muttered Dale into Pepper’s ear. “He was out on the lake having a good time and smoking cigarettes!”

“Perhaps the cigarettes made his head ache,” answered Pepper.

“Stop that talking!” bawled Josiah Crabtree, and rapped sharply on his desk with a ruler. “Kearney, you may go on with the lesson.”

Now as it chanced, Dave Kearney was an exceptionally good Latin scholar, so he translated fairly well, even though he had not looked over the paragraph given. Then Stuffer was called on.

“I studied only up to twenty-three,” said he. “That’s as far as you said we were to go.”

“Don’t contradict me! Don’t you dare!” shouted Josiah Crabtree, red in the face with rage. “I know what lessons I give out. Conners, you go on.”

The big boy of the class shrugged his shoulders.

“I can go on, but not very well, sir,” he answered. “I understood we were to go to the end of paragraph twenty-two only. I may be mistaken – ”

“You’re right!” came from a cadet in the rear of the room.

“So he is!” said several others.

“Silence! silence!” shouted Josiah Crabtree, leaping to his feet and shaking his ruler in the pupils’ faces. “Silence! I will have silence!”

“Anybody got any silence to spare?” murmured Pepper, looking behind him. “Mr. Crabtree wants to borrow some silence.” And at this a snicker went around.

“I will have silence!” repeated the teacher. “If you are not silent I will keep every one of you in after school!”

“Mr. Crabtree,” said Jack, arising and facing the irate teacher boldly. As major of the school battalion he felt it his duty to speak.

“Ruddy, what do you want?” snapped the teacher.

“There has evidently been a mistake made. I think most of the boys here understood you to say we were to go to the end of paragraph twenty-two – ”

“That’s it! That’s it!” came in a dozen voices.

“Silence! Ruddy, sit down!”

“But, sir, I would suggest – ”

“Sit down, or I’ll make you!” stormed Josiah Crabtree, and leaving his desk he strode down the aisle with his ruler brandished over his head.

It was a critical moment – one of the most critical Putnam Hall had ever seen – and many of the cadets present held their breath. Some expected to see Jack drop into his seat, but the young major did nothing of the kind. He stood in a soldierly attitude and looked the angry teacher full in the eyes.

“Will you sit down or not?” demanded Josiah Crabtree, as he came to a halt in front of the pupil.

“Will you listen to me, or not, Mr. Crabtree?” asked Jack. “If you won’t, I have nothing more to say, here. But I’ll report the matter to Captain Putnam when he returns.”

“Good! That’s the talk!” came from several others.

“Crabtree made the mistake and he is afraid to acknowledge it,” said one cadet.

“Boys, will you be silent?” yelled the teacher. “This is – er – outrageous! I never saw such actions in a schoolroom before! Am I in authority here, or am I not?”

“You are – not!” squeaked a voice from the rear.

“Walk out in the air and forget to return,” added another voice.

“Take a vacation until Captain Putnam gets back,” suggested a third.

Josiah Crabtree trembled with rage and from red grew white. He waved his ruler wildly in the air.

“This is – is rebellion!” he gasped. “Rebellion! I want everybody to sit down!” For all the cadets were now on their feet.

“Sit down yourself!” came from Coulter, who was in the rear, and then somebody threw a book into the air. More books followed, and several volumes landed on Josiah Crabtree’s head and shoulders. He danced around wildly, trying to reach some of the cadets with the ruler, but all kept out of his way.

It was the most exciting time Putnam Hall had ever witnessed, and the climax was gained when an inkwell, thrown by Reff Ritter, struck Josiah Crabtree in the neck. Up flew the ink into the instructor’s face, covering his nose, chin and one cheek.

“You wretches!” spluttered Crabtree, wiping the ink from one eye. “You wretches! Stop, or I’ll have you all locked up! This is – is disgraceful, outrageous, preposterous! I never imagined any set of boys could be so bad! I shall have somebody arrested for assault and battery! I’ll have the law on all of you!” And still brandishing the ruler he ran from the classroom, banging the door after him.

For the moment after he was gone nobody spoke. Then Bart Conners emitted a low whistle.

“Here’s a how-do-you-do!” he exclaimed.

“Do you think he’ll try to have anybody arrested?” questioned Reff Ritter. He was just a little scared and wished he had not thrown the inkwell.

“He’ll have a job arresting the whole class,” was Andy’s comment.

“It wasn’t our fault,” added Dale. “He started the trouble. It was his mistake about the lesson.”

“So it was,” put in Dave Kearney. “I knew paragraph twenty-four, but he gave us only to the end of twenty-two, I am certain of it.”

“So am I,” added nearly every student present.

“Boys, come to order!” called out Jack. “Everybody take his books and sit down,” and all but Ritter did as requested. The latter took up the fallen inkwell and carried it to his seat.

“It wasn’t fair to throw that inkwell,” remarked Joe Nelson.

“That was going a little too far,” said another student.

“Huh! Are you fellows going back on me?” demanded the bully, uneasily. “Didn’t you throw books and other things?”

“Books aren’t inkwells full of ink,” remarked Stuffer.

“You threw an apple core!” flared back Ritter.

“So I did – into the air. But it struck the blackboard, not old Crabtree.”

“It’s just as bad.”

“Sure it is,” put in Coulter, bound to stand by his crony.