Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

“This Gabel treated me pretty good at first, for my uncle sent money regularly for my board. Then, for some reason, the money stopped coming, and Mr. Gabel turned mean. He hardly gave me enough to eat, and I had to work like a horse on his farm. I wrote to my uncle, but I never got an answer.

“Then, all at once, my uncle began sending money again, but he didn’t state where he was. After that I had it a little easier, until some one stole quite a sum from Mr. Gabel. He’s a regular miser, and he loves money more than anything else. He accused me of robbing him, and declared he wouldn’t have me around his house any longer.

“So he sent me off to this school, but he doesn’t give me a cent of spending money, and pays all the bills himself. He still thinks I stole his money, and he says he will hold back my spending cash, which my uncle forwards, until he has made up the amount that was stolen.

“I tried to prove to him that I was innocent, but he won’t believe me. He is always writing me mean letters, reminding me that I am a thief, and not fit for decent people to associate with. I’m miserable, and I wish I was dead. I got a mean, accusing letter from him to-day, and it made me feel so bad that I didn’t care what became of me. I wandered off, and I thought if I fell down and died under the snow it would be a good thing.”

“Say, you certainly are up against it,” murmured Jack. “I’d like to get hold of that rascally guardian of yours. But why don’t you tell your uncle?”

“I can’t, for I don’t know his address.”

“But he sends money for your schooling and board to Mr. Gabel, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but he sends cash in a letter, and he doesn’t even register it. I wrote to the postal authorities of the Western city where his letters were mailed, but they said they could give me no information.”

“What is your uncle doing in the West?”

“He is engaged in some secret mission. I never could find out what it is, and I don’t believe Mr. Gabel knows, either. Oh, but Gabel is a mean man! He seems to take delight in making me miserable. Now you know why I act so queerly. I like a good time, and I like to be with the fellows, but I haven’t a cent to spend to treat them with, and I’m not going to accept favors that I can’t return. Why, I haven’t had a cent to spend for myself in six months!”

Jack whistled.

“That’s tough,” he said. “But say, Will, you’re mistaken if you think our crowd cares anything for money. Why didn’t you say something about this before?”

“I – I was ashamed to.”

“Why, we thought you didn’t like us,” went on Jack. “Now I see that we were mistaken. I wish we had Mr. Gabel here. We’d haze him first, and throw him into the lake afterward. Now, Will, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do?”

“What?” asked the lad, who seemed much better in spirits, now that he had made a confession.

“In the first place, you’re coming to the village with me,” said Jack. “Then you’re going to forget all about your troubles and about dying under the snow. Then, when I get a bundle from home, you’re coming back with me, and – ”

“Home!” exclaimed Will with a catch in his voice. “How good that word sounds! I – I haven’t had a home in so long that – that I don’t know what it seems like.”

“Well, we’re going to make you right at home here,” went on Jack. “I’m expecting a bundle of good things from my aunt, and when it comes, why, you and me and Nat and Sam and Bony and Fred and Bob, and some other choice spirits, are going to gather in my room to-night, and we’re going to have the finest spread you ever saw. I’ll make you acquainted with the boys, and then we’ll see what happens. No spending money? As if we cared for that! Now, come on, old chap, we’ll leg it to the village, for it’s cold standing here,” and clapping Will on the back, Jack linked his arm in that of the new boy and led him back to the road.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MIDNIGHT FEAST

“Well, fellows, are we all here?” asked Jack Ranger later that night, as he gazed around on a crowd in his room.

“If there were any more we couldn’t breathe,” replied Bony Balmore, and the cracking of his finger knuckles punctuated his remark.

“When does the fun begin?” asked Bob Movel.

“Soon,” answered Jack.

“We ought to have some music. Tune up, Fred,” said Sam.

“Not here,” interposed Jack quickly. “Wait a bit and we can make all the noise we want to.”

“How’s that?” inquired Bony. “Have you hypnotized Dr. Mead and put wax in Martin’s ears so he can’t hear us?”

“No, but it’s something just as good. This afternoon I sat and listened while Socker, the janitor, told me one of his war stories.”

“You must have had patience,” interrupted Nat Anderson. “Bob cats and bombshells, but Socker is tiresome!”

“Well, I had an object in it,” explained Jack. “I wanted him to do me a favor, and he did it – after I’d let him tell me how, single-handed, he captured a lot of Confederates. I told him about this spread to-night, and was lamenting the fact that my room was so small, and that we couldn’t make any noise, or have any lights. And you know how awkward it is to eat in the dark.”

“Sure,” admitted Bony. “You can’t always find your mouth.”

“And if there’s anything I dislike,” added Nat, “it’s putting pie in my ear.”

“Easy!” cautioned Jack at the laugh which followed. “Wait a few minutes and we can make all the noise we want to.”

“How?” asked Bony.

“Because, as I’m trying to tell you, Socker did me a favor. He’s going to let us in the storeroom, back of where the boiler is, in the basement. It’ll be nice and warm there, and we can have our midnight feast in comfort, and make all the row we like, for Martin can’t hear us there.”

“Good for you, Jack!” cried Nat.

“That’s all to the horse radish!” observed Sam.

Jack’s trip to town that afternoon had been most successful. He had found at the express office a big package from home, and from the note that accompanied it he knew it contained good things to eat, made by his loving aunts. But, desiring to give an unusually fine spread to celebrate the occasion of having made the acquaintance of Will Williams, Jack purchased some other good things at the village stores.

He and Will carried them back to school, and managed to smuggle them in. It was a new experience for Will to have a friend like Jack Ranger, and to be taking part in this daring but harmless breach of the school rules. Under this stimulus Will was fast losing his melancholy mood, and he responded brightly to Jack’s jokes.

“Now you stay in your room until I call for you,” our hero had said to Will on parting after supper that night. Jack wanted to spring a sort of surprise on his chums, and introduce Will to them at the feast. In accordance with his instructions the lads had gathered in his room about ten o’clock that night, stealing softly in after Martin, the monitor, had made his last round to see that lights were out. Then Jack had announced his plan of having the feast in the basement.

“Grab up the grub and come on,” said the leader a little later. “Softly now – no noise until we’re downstairs.”

“Will Socker keep mum?” asked Bony.

“As an oyster in a church sociable stew,” replied Jack. “I’ve promised to listen to another of his war tales.”

“Jack’s getting to be a regular martyr,” observed Sam.

“Silence in the ranks!” commanded Captain Jack.

The lads stole softly along the corridors. Just as they got opposite the door of Martin’s room, there was a dull thud.

“What’s that?” whispered Jack softly.

“I – I dropped one of the pies,” replied Bony, cracking his knuckles at the double-quick in his excitement.

“Scoop it up and come on. You’ll have to eat it,” said Jack.

In fear and trembling they went on. Fortunately, Martin did not hear the noise, and the lads got safely past.