The Putnam Hall Rebellion

“I guess I can do it,” answered Nick Paxton, and shuffled to the blackboard. He soon had a mass of figures written down, but they seemed to lead to nowhere, and Josiah Crabtree was more put out than ever.

“That is all wrong, Paxton!” he said. “You are a blockhead! Take your seat!” And Paxton did so, with his head hanging down.

In the meantime the other classes had been dismissed, and those kept in could hear the other cadets walk through the halls and enter the mess room. Then followed a clatter of knives and forks and dishes. These sounds made many cadets besides Stuffer feel an emptiness in the vicinity of their belts.

“As no one appears to know the algebra lesson, we will take time for studying,” said Josiah Crabtree. “I will examine you again at one o’clock. The room will be quiet.”

Quarter of an hour dragged by slowly. The boys wanted to talk the situation over, but Josiah Crabtree would permit no whispering. Presently the teacher arose and walked to the door.

“I will be back shortly,” he said, in a cold voice. “I want absolute order maintained during my absence.” Then he went out, shutting the door after him. A strange clicking followed.

“He has locked us in!” exclaimed a youth who sat near the door, in a hoarse whisper. “Now what do you think of that?”

CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH THE STORM GATHERS

“I guess he has gone off to get his own dinner, and he is going to leave us starve!” groaned Stuffer. “I’m not going to stand it – no, sir!” And he jumped up from his desk and began to walk around nervously.

“This is certainly a new move,” said Jack.

“I don’t believe Captain Putnam or Mr. Strong would do such a thing,” vouchsafed Bart Conners.

“No, both of them are too considerate,” answered Dale.

“This is the combined work of old Crabtree and Cuddle,” came from Andy. “Cuddle loves to cut a fellow short on grub.”

Jack walked to the door and tried the knob.

“Locked, true enough,” he said.

“But the windows aren’t,” added Pepper. “I could get out of a window almost as quick as out of a door,” he went on suggestively.

“Let’s all climb out and make a break for the mess hall,” cried Fred Century. “He has no right to cut us out of our dinner. It’s paid for.”

“So it is!” answered several.

“I’ll climb out if anybody else will,” said Reff Ritter.

“So will I!” said Dale and Coulter in a breath.

“Look here, fellows, if we make a move we ought to have a regularly appointed leader,” said Dave Kearney. “I move we make Major Ruddy our leader. He’s the commander of the battalion anyway.”

“Second the motion!” came in a dozen voices.

“What’s the matter with my leading?” demanded Reff Ritter. “I made the suggestion to climb out of the window, didn’t I?”

“That’s it – make Reff leader,” put in Paxton, quickly.

“He’s just the fellow for the place,” added Coulter, while Sabine nodded.

“No, no, give us Ruddy!” called out a great number of cadets.

“Ruddy! Ruddy!”

“No, give Ritter a show!”

“Might as well put it to a vote,” suggested Dale, when cries were heard from all sides. “All in favor of Jack Ruddy for leader raise their right hand.”

Instantly fifteen hands went up.

“Now those in favor of Reff Ritter.”

Eight hands went up. The other cadets present refused to vote at all.

“Major Ruddy has it,” announced Dale. “Is everybody satisfied?”

“Yes!” was the loud cry.

“I suppose we’ll have to be,” grumbled Coulter. “But Ritter would have made a better leader. He offered to go through the window, and – ”

“Never mind chewing it over now,” broke in Pepper. “From now on, let Jack do the talking.”

“Boys, are all in favor of leaving this room and going to the mess hall?” asked the young major, mounting to the top of a desk and gazing around him.

“Yes! yes!” was the answer.

“Then let us get out of the windows, form a company on the campus, and march into the mess hall in regular soldier style. When we get there, let every fellow take his usual place – and refuse to budge until dinner is served.”

“Hurrah! That’s the talk!” cried Stuffer. “And a full-sized dinner too, with dessert!” he added hastily.

For cadets used to gymnasium practice, it was an easy matter to climb out of the classroom windows to the campus. Once on the green, Jack lost no time in forming the boys into a single company.

“Attention!” he called out. “By column of two, forward march!” And he led the way, the cadets following in pairs, and marching as stiffly as if on dress parade.

It may be that somebody was on the watch, yet the boys were not disturbed, and soon they filed into the mess hall, where the other cadets were just finishing their midday meal. At one table sat Pluxton Cuddle and at another Josiah Crabtree. Both leaped to their feet in amazement.

“How dare you!” gasped Josiah Crabtree. “How dare you!” For the moment he could think of nothing else to say.

“As it was past the dinner hour the class made up its mind to come in and get something to eat,” said Jack, stiffly, and looking the teacher full in the face.

“You – you – rascal!” exploded the teacher. “I’ll have you to underst – ”

“Excuse me, Mr. Crabtree, I am not a rascal,” interrupted Jack. “I am the major of the Putnam Hall battalion and the spokesman of our class – so chosen by a vote of the cadets. We decided that we wanted dinner – and we are here to get it.”

“This is mutiny – rebellion!” gasped Pluxton Cuddle.

“You can call it what you please, Mr. Cuddle. We are entitled to our dinner and we mean to have it.”