CHAPTER XII
ACCUSATIONS
"That's the way to do it!"
"Why didn't we think of that before?"
"Get busy, everybody! Scatter the hay!"
These cries greeted the activity of Tom and his three friends, and, a few seconds later, as many of the crowd of students as could get near were picking and tearing at the stacks of hay, with whatever they could lay their hands on—pitchforks, rakes, sticks, clothes-poles—anything that would serve to scatter the inflammable mass, that was not yet ablaze, far enough off so that the tongues of fire could not reach it.
It was hot work and disagreeable work, for the smoke and ashes were blown into the faces of the lads time and again. Yet they persisted, not from any love for the farmer, since his treatment of Tom was well known, but because of the lads' inherent desire to do something—especially at a fire.
Meanwhile, Mr. Appleby, seeing that the blaze was now in competent hands, turned his attention to the barns, getting out, with the help of some students and his hired men, the farm machinery, and some sacks of grain.
But there was no need of this, as it developed, for, in a comparatively short time, Tom's tactics proved effective. The fire, from lack of material to feed on, gradually died out, and though the greater part of the two stacks were consumed, the scattering of the remaining hay solved the problem.
The fierce heat and blaze began to subside, and in a short time all that was left was a pile of glowing ashes. Tom and his friends ceased their efforts, and withdrew to the cooler area near the barn, that had been half emptied of their contents before it was certain that they would not go up in flames and smoke.
"Well, that's over," remarked Jack, as he stood his pitchfork up against the building, "and I'm glad of it."
"So am I," declared Bert.
"And you're a mighty lucky man, Mr. Appleby," said one of his neighbors, "that you have any out-buildings left."
"But look at the hay that's burned!" whined the farmer. "Nigh on to three tons of it gone, an' the rest spiled by smoke, I reckon."
"But you're lucky just the same," insisted another neighbor who had come over to help fight the blaze. "If it hadn't been for these school boys, and that one in particular who had the gumption to think of scattering the hay, you'd be many thousands of dollars poorer than you are now. What's a few tons of hay compared to that?"
"Of course!" came a murmur from several other farmers.
"Humph!" almost sneered Mr. Appleby. "Them school fellers! Maybe they know more about this fire than they're lettin' on!"
"What's that?" cried Tom, who overheard the words. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, nothin'—at least not yet, until I've looked around a bit," replied Mr. Appleby. "You needn't be so touchy. Ain't I seen you before, somewhere?" he asked, peering into Tom's face by the dying glow of the fire.
"You have," answered our hero calmly. "I had the pleasure of paying you ten dollars for some corn you said we spoiled the night we were lost on the cross-country run, and you refused to direct us to the right road."
"Humph! I thought I recognized you," and the farmer turned away without so much as a word of thanks to Tom and his chums.
"Keep the change," called Tom after him. "Next time you have a fire send for us!"
"The old grouch!" gasped Jack. "Isn't he the limit?"
"And then some more," added Bert. "Come on back to bed. I smell like a smoked ham I imagine."
"We all do," agreed Jack. "But I wonder what old Appleby was driving at when he said some of our lads might know more about this fire than they were saying?"
"Oh, just talk I imagine," said Tom quickly. "He hedged when I tried to corner him. He's so excited he doesn't know what he is saying. Come on; let's go back."
They filed out of the still smoky farmyard and made their way back to the Hall, other lads doing the same thing. The excitement was over now, and soon Elmwood Hall had taken on her normal appearance at night, with her students resuming their interrupted slumbers.
There was much talk of the fire the next morning, the topic forming a fruitful source of conversation at the breakfast tables, and on the way to chapel. Then came lessons, when the lads separated. But in Tom's mind there rankled the words the old farmer had used.
"I wonder what will come of it?" he mused.
He had not long to wait to find out. That afternoon, following some hard football practice, when he and his two particular chums were on their way to the gymnasium for a shower bath, they heard a voice behind them asking:
"I say, kin you boys tell me where I kin find Doctor Meredith? I want t' have a talk with him."
They turned, to behold Farmer Appleby, dressed in what were apparently his best clothes, and with a "biled" shirt, the collar of which obviously galled his neck.
"There is the doctor's residence, over there," indicated Tom. "I trust the fire is all out," he added, half sarcastically.
"Humph! Yes, it's out, but I ain't done with it yet," and the farmer nodded his head vigorously. "I've got some suspicions, and I've come t' tell 'em. I want t' have a talk with Doctor Meredith about that fire."
"Here he comes now," said Jack, as the tall form of the head master was seen approaching over the campus. Seeing the group of lads, and recognizing them, the doctor turned and approached Tom and his mates. Mr. Appleby, assuming an air of importance, stood waiting.
"Well, boys, none the worse from the excitement of last night, I hope," began the head of the school. "At least I see you are able to resume football practice," and he smiled at the rather soiled appearance of the lads.
"Yes, we're all right," assented Jack.
"Be you Doctor Meredith?" broke in the farmer.
"I am," was the quiet answer, and a pair of eyes that had an uncomfortable habit of seeming to bore right through one, looked sharply at the farmer. "Did you wish to see me?"
"Yes, I'm Mr. Appleby. It was my hay stacks that burned last night."
"Oh, yes, I heard about it. I am sorry for you. I understand that had it not been for some of my students the fire would have been much worse. You have come to thank them, through me, I take it."
"Well, no, Doctor Meredith, I don't know as I have," and the farmer's voice seemed harsh and grating.
"You have not? Pray, then, what———"
"I come t' tell you, Doctor Meredith, that perhaps if it hadn't been fer some of your boys maybe there wouldn't have been any fire!"
"What's that?" exclaimed the doctor, drawing himself up sharply and looking at the farmer intently. "Just what do you mean, Mr. Appleby?"
"Jest what I said. I'm not satisfied as t' how that fire started, and I suspect that some of your students set it."
"Preposterous! Why should they do such a thing as that?"
"Because some of them have a grudge against me. It ain't th' fust time the school boys has played tricks on me. Two years ago they burned up an old shed."
"So you said at the time, but you could never prove it, I believe. You should be careful how you make accusations, sir."
"I am careful, Doctor Meredith, an' that's why I didn't come sooner.
I've got evidence now."
"Evidence? What kind?"
"Well, one of my hired men saw a fellow, who looked like a school lad, sneaking around the hay stacks a leetle while afore they begun to blaze."
"Is that all? If it is, I call that very flimsy evidence; and I again warn you to be careful how you make accusations."
"It ain't all, Doctor Meredith. Th' same hired man picked up this pin near the stacks," and the farmer held out a pin such as was worn by nearly every Elmwood Hall student.
"Picked up the pin near the stacks; did he?" asked the head master coolly, as he looked at the ornament. "Well, seeing that a number of my students were helping put out the fire, it is but natural that one might lose a pin there. I see no evidence in that, and again——"
"This here pin were picked up at the stacks just afore th' fire was discovered—not afterward," said the farmer in a harsh voice, as his gaze swept the faces of Tom and his chums.