Winning His "W": A Story of Freshman Year at CollegeTomlinson, Everett T. (Everett Titsworth)
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Winning His "W": A Story of Freshman Year at College
Tomlinson, Everett T. (Everett Titsworth)
College students -- Juvenile fiction; Sports stories
"What?" demanded the entire party almost together.
"That is what I said. The canes are not in my house."
"In the barn, then?" said the leader suspiciously.
"No, they are not in the barn, either. There is not a cane on my place
except the one I occasionally use myself. If you think that will do--"
"But, Mr. Whitaker, the man was seen when he brought the canes here."
"Quite likely."
"And yet you say they are not here?"
"That is what I said. And what I still say."
"I don't understand--"
"I do not say they _were_ not here. All I say is that they _are_ not
here."
"They're gone? They've been taken away? Is that what you mean?" demanded
the astonished sophomore.
"Precisely."
"Let's go in and search anyway," said one of the party now thoroughly
angry.
"I advise you not to attempt that," said the minister quietly.
"Why not?" said the sophomore impudently.
"Because one of my neighbors is a deputy sheriff and housebreaking is a
somewhat serious offense."
For a moment the assembly was nonplussed, but their uncertainty was
speedily relieved, or at least interrupted, by an occurrence that
instantly caused them all to turn and flee from the place at their
utmost speed.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE MYSTERY OF THE CANES
At the very moment when the consternation of the sophomores was keenest
the sound of a sleigh turning into the yard in which they were standing
caused them all to look quickly toward the gateway. The ground was bare
in places, and the runners of the sleigh, as the iron bands passed over
the gravel, emitted shrieks and groans as if they were striving to warn
the sophomores of the impending peril.
Seated in the sleigh were three men whom the assembly speedily
recognized as members of the freshman class, and their own fears for a
moment doubtless caused the sophomores to magnify the numbers as well as
the danger.
"Look out, fellows! Here they come!" said one in a low voice whom Will
and Hawley recognized. It was Mott, who was again the spokesman and
leader of the little band.
"Let's get out of this," responded one whose voice Will could not
determine, and as if a sudden panic had seized upon them the young men
turned and began to run swiftly.
"Hold on! Hold on, fellows!" called Mott savagely, although his voice
was not loud. "Hold on! What are you running for? There are only three
of them, and we're good for any three freshmen in Winthrop. Don't run.
Come on back!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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