FOOTNOTES:
[1] The "shell" is the lowest class.
[THE POLITICAL EDUCATION OF MR. BALDWIN]
If Hickey had not been woefully weak in mathematics the famous Fed. and anti-Fed. riots would probably never have happened. But as revolutions turn on minor axes, Hickey, who could follow a football like a hound, could not for the life of him trace X, the unknown factor, through the hedges of the simplest equation.
It was, therefore, with feelings of the acutest interest that he waited, in the upper corridor of Memorial Hall, on the opening morning of the spring term, for the appearance of Mr. Baldwin, the new recruit to the mathematics department. The Hall was choked with old boys chattering over the doings of the Easter vacation, calling back and forth, punching one another affectionately or critically examining the returning stragglers.
"His name is Ernest Garrison Baldwin," said the Gutter Pup. "Just graduated, full of honours and that sort of thing."
"He ought to be easy," said Crazy Opdyke, hopefully.
"These mathematical sharks are always fancy markers," interposed Macnooder.
"If I'm stuck in the first row," said the Egghead gloomily, "it's all up—I never could do anything with figures."
"If we want short lessons," said Hickey, waking out of his reverie, "we've all got to flunk in the beginning."
At this Machiavellian analysis there was a chorus of assent.
"Sure."
"Hickey's the boy!"
"Red Dog and Poler Fox have got to be kept down."
"We're not pack-horses."
"Say, is he green?"
"Sure—never taught before."
"Cheese it—he's coming."
The group stood aside, intent on the arrival of the new adversary. They saw a stiff young man, already bald, with a set, affable manner and a pervading smile of cordiality, who entered the classroom with a confident step, after a nodded:
"Ah, boys—good-morning."
The class filed in, eyeing the natural enemy closely for the first indications of value to aid them in the approaching conflicts.
"He's awfully serious," said the Egghead to his neighbour.
"He'll try to drive us," replied Macnooder, with instinctive resentment.
Hickey said nothing, absorbed in contemplation of a momentous question—how would the new master hear recitations? To solve a master's system is to be prepared in advance, and with the exception of the Roman's there was not a system which he had not solved. Popular masters, like Pa Dater, called you up every third day, which is eminently just and conducive to a high standard of scholarship. The Muffin Head, in stealthy craftiness, had a way of calling you up twice in succession after you had flunked and were expecting a brief period of immunity; but this system once solved gave ample opportunity to redeem yourself. The Doctor, wiser than the rest, wrote each name on a card, shuffled the pack and called for a recitation according to chance—but even the Doctor left the pack on his desk, nor counted the cards as all careful players should. Other masters, like Tapping and Baronson, trusted to their intuitions, seizing upon the boy whose countenance betrayed a lurking apprehension. Hickey took kindly to this method and had thrived amazingly, by sudden flagrant inattentions or noticeable gazing out of the windows, which invariably procured him a staccato summons to recite just as the recitation neared the limited portion he had studied.
So Hickey sat, examining Mr. Baldwin, and speculating into which classification he would fall.
"Now, boys," said Mr. Baldwin, with an expanding smile, "we're beginning the new term. I hope you'll like me—I know I shall like you. I'm quite a boy myself—quite a boy, you know. Now I'm going ahead on a new principle. I'm going to assume that you all take an interest in your work [the class sat up]. I'm going to assume that you look upon life with seriousness and purpose. I'm going to assume that you realise the sacrifices your parents are making to afford you an education. I'm not here as a taskmaster. I'm here to help you, as your friend, as your companion—as an older brother—that's it, as an older brother. I hope our interest in one another will not be limited to this classroom."
Hickey and the Egghead, who had prominently installed themselves in the front seats, led the applause with serious, responsive faces. Mr. Baldwin acknowledged it, noticing pleasantly the leaders of the demonstration.
Then he rapped for order and began to call the roll, seating the boys alphabetically. He ran rapidly through the F's, the G's and H's and, pausing, inquired:
"Are there any J's in the class?"
At this excruciatingly witty remark, which every master annually blunders upon, the waiting class roared in unison, while Hinsdale was forced to slap Hickey mercilessly on the back to save him from violent hysterics.
Mr. Baldwin, who suddenly perceived he had made a pun, hastily assumed a roguish expression and allowed a considerable moment for the laughter to die away. The session ended in a gale of cordiality.
Hickey and the Egghead paid a visit that afternoon to the Griswold, to make the new arrival feel quite at home.
"Ah, boys," said Mr. Baldwin, with a wringing hand-shake, "this is very friendly of you, very friendly."
"Mr. Baldwin," said Hickey seriously, "we were very much interested in what you said to us this morning."
"Indeed," said Baldwin, gratified. "Well, that pleases me very much. And I am glad to see that you take me at my word, and I hope you will drop in often. There are lots of things I want to talk over with you."
"Yes, sir," said the Egghead. "It's very kind of you."
"Not at all," said Baldwin, with a wave of his hand. "My theory is that a master should be your companion, and I have one or two ideas about education I am anxious to have my boys interested in. Now, for instance, take politics; what do you know about politics?"
"Why, nothing," said Hickey in acquiescent surprise.
"And yet that is the most vital thing you will have to face as men. Here's a great national election approaching, and yet, I am certain not one in four hundred of you has any clear conception of the political system."
"That's so, Egghead," said Hickey, nodding impressively at his companion. "It is so."
"I have a scheme I'm going to talk over with you," continued Baldwin, "and I want your advice. Sit down; make yourselves comfortable."
Later in the afternoon Mr. Baronson, Baldwin's superior in the Griswold, dropped in with a friendly inquiry. Young Mr. Baldwin was gazing out of the window in indulgent amusement. Mr. Baronson, following his gaze, beheld, in the far campus, Hickey and Egghead rolling over each other like two trick bears.
"Well, Baldwin, how goes it?" said Baronson genially.
"Splendidly. The boys are more than friendly. We shall get on famously."
"'Danaos timeo et dona ferentes,'" said Baronson shrewdly.
"Oh——" Baldwin objected.
"Yes, yes—I'm an old fogy—old style," said Baronson, cutting in, "but it's based on good scientific researches, Baldwin. I just dropped in for a hint or two, which you won't pay attention to—never mind. When you've lived with the young human animal as long as I have, you won't have any illusions. He doesn't want to be enlightened. He hasn't the slightest desire to be educated. He isn't educated. He never will be. His memory simply detains for a short while, a larger and larger number of facts—Latin, Greek, history, mathematics, it's all the same—facts, nothing but facts. He remembers when he is compelled to, but he is supremely bored by the performance. All he wants is to grow, to play and to get into sufficient mischief. My dear fellow, treat him as a splendid young savage, who breaks a rule for the joy of matching his wits against yours, and don't take him seriously, as you are in danger of doing. Don't let him take you seriously or he will lead you to a cropper."
Ernest Garrison Baldwin did not deign to reply—the voice of the older generation, of course! He was of the new, he would replace old prejudices with new methods. There were a great many things in the world he intended to change—among others this whole antagonistic spirit of education. So he remained silent, and looked very dignified.
Baronson studied him, saw the workings of his mind, and smiled.
"Never were at boarding-school, were you?" he asked.
"No," said Baldwin, drily.
Baronson gave a glance at the study, remarked the advanced note in the shelves, and went to the door.
"After all," he said, with his hand on the knob, "the first year, Baldwin, we learn more than we teach."
"Gee! I think it's an awful bore," said the Gutter Pup.
"I don't see it either," said the Egghead.
"Who started it?" asked Turkey Reiter.
"Hickey and Elder Brother Baldwin," said the Egghead. "Hickey's improving his stand."
"Hickey, boy," said Butcher Stevens, professionally, "you're consorting with awful low company."
"Hickey, you are getting to be a greasy grind," said the Gutter Pup.
"I am, am I," said Hickey indignantly. "I'd like to know if I'm not a patriot. I'd like to know if I'm not responsible for the atmosphere of brotherly love and the dove of peace that floats around Baldwin's classroom. I'd like to know if I'm not responsible for his calling us up alphabetically, regular order, every other day, no suspicion, perfect trust—mutual confidence. Am I right?"
"You are right, Hickey, you are right," said Turkey apologetically. "The binomial theorem is a delight and a joy, when, as you say, the master has mutual trust in the scholar. But where in blazes, Hickey, did you get this political shindy into your thinker?"
"It's Elder Brother's theory of education," said Hickey carefully, "one of his theories. Elder Brother is very much distressed at the ignorance, the political ignorance, of the modern boy. Brother is right."
"Come off," said the Egghead, glancing at him suspiciously, but Hickey maintained a serious face.
"What's up?" said Macnooder, sauntering over to the crowd on the lawn.
"Hickey's fixed up a plan with Brotherly Love to have a political campaign," said the Gutter Pup, "and is trying to rouse our enthusiasm."
"A campaign here in the school, in the Lawrenceville School, John C. Green Foundation!" said Macnooder incredulously.
"The same!"
"No? I won't believe it. It's a dream—it's a beautiful, satisfying dream," said Macnooder, shaking his head. "A political campaign in school; Hickey, my bounding boy, I see your cunning hand!"
"Now Doc's gone nutty," said the unimaginative Egghead. "What the deuce do you see in it?"
"Hickey, you old, rambunctious, foxy, prodigious Hickey, I knew something was brewing," said Doc, not deigning to notice the Egghead. "You have been quiet, most quiet of late. Hickey, how did you do it?"
"Sympathy, Doc," said Hickey blandly. "I've been most sympathetic with Elder Brother, sympathetic and most encouraging. Sympathy is a beautiful thing, Doc, beautiful and rare."
"Hickey, don't torture me with curiosity," said Doc. "Where are we at?"
"At the present moment, Brother is asking the Doctor for permission to launch the campaign, and the sympathetic, popular and serious Hickey Hicks is proceeding to select a preliminary conference committee."
"And what then?" said Turkey, with sudden interest.
"What then?" said Hickey. "Bonfires, parades, stump speeches, proclamations, et cetera, et ceteray."
"Oh, Hickey," said the now enthusiastic Gutter Pup, "do you think the Doctor ever will permit it?"
"What's the use of getting excited?" said the Egghead contemptuously. "You don't fancy for a moment, do you, there's a chance of fooling the Doctor?"
"Sure, Egghead's right," said Butcher Stevens; "you won't get the Doctor to bite. Baldwin is green, but the Doctor is quite ripe, thank you!"
Even Macnooder looked dubiously at Hickey, who assumed an air of superhuman wisdom and answered:
"I have two chances, Baldwin and the Decoy Ducks!"
"The what?"
"Decoy Ducks; the committee that will confer to-morrow afternoon with the Doctor."
Turkey emitted a long, admiring whistle.
"I have given the matter thought—serious thought, as Baldwin would say," said Hickey. "The following collection of Archangels and young High Markers will be rounded up for the Doctor's inspection to-morrow."
"As Decoy Ducks?"
"As Decoy Ducks, you intelligent Turkey. High Markers: Red Dog, Poler Fox, Biddy Hampton and Ginger Pop Rooker, Wash Simmons—the Doctor would feed out of Wash's hand—Crazy Opdyke—he reads Greek like Jules Verne. Everything must be done to make this a strictly ed-u-cational affair. Now to demonstrate that it has the sanction of the religious element of this community the following notorious and flagrant Archangels will qualify: Halo Brown, Pink Rabbit, Parson Eddy, the Saphead and the Coffee Cooler—the Doctor is real affectionate with the Coffee Cooler."
"What a beoo-ti-ful bunch!" said the Gutter Pup rapturously.
"It is," said Hickey, proudly; "the Doctor would let any one of them correct his own examination papers and raise the mark afterward on the ground of overconscientiousness."
"Well, where's the fun?" said the Egghead obstinately. "If Crazy Opdyke and that bunch is to run the campaign, where do we come in?"
"There will be a small preliminary representation of professional politicians," said Hickey, smiling, "very small at present, limited to the handsome and popular Hickey Hicks, who will represent the large body of professional politicians who will be detained at home by hard work and serious application, but——"
"But what?" said Macnooder.
"But who will find time to ac-tively assist this quiet, orderly campaign of education, after their presence will not be misunderstood!"
At half-past one the next day, the Doctor, sympathetically inclined by the enthusiastic, if inexperienced, Mr. Baldwin, received the Decoy Ducks in his study at Foundation House.
The Doctor, while interested, had not been convinced, and had expressed a desire to know into whose guidance the nurturing of such a tender plant had been intrusted. As the impressive gathering defiled before him, his instinctive caution vanished, his glance warmed with satisfaction, and assuming the genial and conversational attitude he reserved for his favourites, he began:
"Well, boys, this appears to be a responsible gathering, an unusually responsible one. It is gratifying to see you approaching such subjects with serious purpose and earnestness. It is gratifying that the leaders of this school" (here his glance rested fondly on Wash Simmons, Crazy Opdyke and the Coffee Cooler, prominently placed) "that the earnest, purposeful boys show this interest in the political welfare of the nation. Mr. Baldwin's plan seems to me to be a most excellent one. I am in hearty accord with its motive. We cannot begin too soon to interest the youth, the intelligent, serious youth of our country in honest government and clean political methods." (Hickey, in noble effacement by the window-seat, here gazed dreamily over the campus to the red circle of houses.) "Much can be accomplished from the earnest and purposeful pursuit of this instructive experiment. The experiment should be educational in the largest sense; the more I study it the more worthy it appears. I should not be surprised if your experiment should attract the consideration of the educational world. Mr. Baldwin, it gives me pleasure to express to you my thanks and my gratification for the authorship of so worthy an undertaking. I will leave you to a discussion of the necessary details."
"Well, boys," said Baldwin briskly, "let me briefly outline the plan agreed upon. The election shall be for a school council, before which legislation affecting the interests of the school shall come. Each of the four forms shall elect two representatives, each of the ten houses shall elect one representative, making a deliberative body of eighteen. In view of the fact that the approaching national election might inject unnecessary bitterness if the election should be on national issues, we have decided, on the very excellent suggestion of Hicks, who has indeed given many valuable suggestions" (Hickey looked preternaturally solemn), "to have the election on a matter of school policy, and have settled upon the athletic finances as an issue of sufficient interest and yet one that can be calmly and orderly discussed. At present, the management of the athletic finances is in the hands of selected officers from the fourth form. The issue, then, is whether this method shall be continued or whether a member of the faculty shall administer the finances. I should suggest Federalists and Anti-Federalists as names for the parties you will form. One week will be given to campaigning and the election will take place according to the Australian ballot system. Now, boys, I wish you success. You will acquire a taste for public combat and a facility in the necessary art of politics that will nurture in you a desire to enter public life, to take your part in the fight for honest politics, clean methods, independent thinking, and will make you foes of intimidation, bribery, cheating and that demagoguery that is the despair of our present system. At present you may be indifferent, a little bored, perhaps, at this experiment, but you will like it—I am sure you will like it. I prophesy it will interest you once you get started."
Hickey lingered after the meeting to explain that the duties incident to the organising of such an important undertaking had unfortunately deprived him of the time necessary to prepare his advanced algebra.
"Well, that is a little matter we'll overlook, Hicks," said the enthusiast genially. "I congratulate you on your selection, an admirable committee, one that inspires confidence. Keep me in touch with developments and call on me for advice at any time."
"Yes, indeed, sir."
"Good luck."
"Thank you, sir."
A half hour later Hickey announced the addition of the following professional politicians: Tough McCarthy, Doc Macnooder, The Triumphant Egghead, Slugger Jones, Turkey Reiter, Cheyenne Baxter, Jock Hasbrouck, Butcher Stevens, Rock Bemis and Bat Greer.
The reinforced committee then met, divided equitably, and having tossed for sides, announced their organisation, as follows:
FEDERALIST PARTY
Chairman: The Hon. Tough McCarthy
Vice-Chairman: The Hon. Ginger Pop Rooker
ANTI-FEDERALIST PARTY
Chairman: Hon. Cheyenne Baxter
Vice-Chairman: Hon. Hickey Hicks
The school was at first apathetic, then mildly interested. The scheme was examined with suspicion as perhaps being a veiled attempt of the faculty to increase the already outrageous taxes on the mind. It looked prosy enough at first glance—perhaps an attempt to revive the interest in debating and so to be fiercely resisted.
For an hour the great campaign for political education hung fire and then suddenly it began to catch on. A few leading imaginations had seen the latent possibilities. In another hour apathy had disappeared and every house was discussing the momentous question whether to go Fed or Anti-Fed.
The executive committee of the Federalist party met immediately, on a call from the Honourable Cheyenne Baxter, in the Triumphant Egghead's rooms for organisation and conference.
"We've got the short end of it, all right, all right," said Butcher Stevens gloomily. "The idea of our standing up for the faculty."
"That's right, Cheyenne," said Turkey, shaking his head. "We'll be left high and dry."
"We won't carry any house outside the Dickinson and the Woodhull," said Slugger Jones.
"I'd like to make a suggestion," said Crazy Opdyke.
"We've got to plan two campaigns," said Cheyenne, "one for the election from the forms and one for the control of the houses. Let's take up the forms—the fourth form will go solidly against us."
"Sure," said Doc Macnooder, "because if we win they lose control of the finances."
"I have a suggestion," said Crazy Opdyke for the second time.
"Now," said Cheyenne, "we've got to make this a matter of the school against the fourth form, and it oughtn't to be so hard, either. Now, how're we going to do it? First, what have we got?"
"The Dickinson and the Woodhull," said Hickey.
"Yes, we can be sure of those, but that's all. Now, those Feds, with Jock Hasbrouck and Tough McCarthy, will swing the Kennedy and the Griswold."
"The Davis House will be against us," said Macnooder, with conviction. "They're just aching to get back at the Dickinson."
"That's so," said Turkey. "They're still sore because we won the football championship."
"The Davis will pull the Rouse House with it," said Hickey gloomily. "They're forty in the Davis and only twelve in the Rouse. The Davis would mangle them if they ever dared go our way."
"We've got to counteract that by getting the Green," said Cheyenne. "They're only ten there, but it makes a vote. The fight'll be in the Hamill and the Cleve."
"The Cleve is sore on us," said Turkey of the Dickinson, "because we swiped the ice cream last year for their commencement dinner."
"I've got an idea," said Crazy Opdyke, trying to be heard.
"Shut up, Crazy," said Doc. "You've served your purpose; you're a Decoy Duck and nothing else."
"Harmony!" said Cheyenne warningly. "The way to get the Green is to give Butsey White, down there, the nomination from the second form, if he'll swing the house."
"And put up Bronc Andrews in the Hamill," added Macnooder.
"Where do I come in?" said Crazy Opdyke, who had aspirations.
"You subordinate yourself to the success of your party," said Cheyenne.
"The devil I do," said Opdyke. "If you think I'm a negro delegate, you've got another thing coming. I may be a Decoy Duck, but either I'm made chairman of a Finance Committee or I lead a bolt right out of this convention."
"A Finance Committee?" said Butcher Stevens, mystified.
"Sure," said Cheyenne Baxter. "That's most important."
"I'll take that myself, then," said Macnooder aggressively. "I'd like to know what claim Crazy's got to a position of trust and responsibility."
"Claim or no claim," said Opdyke, pulling his hat over his eyes and tilting back, "either I handle the funds of this here campaign or the Anti-Federalist party begins to split."
"Shall a half-plucked rooster from the Cleve House hold up this convention?" said Wash Simmons militantly. "If we're going to be black-jacked by every squid that comes down the road, I'm going to get out."
"I have spoken," said Crazy.
"So have I."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen," protested the Honourable Cheyenne Baxter, "we must have harmony."
"Rats!" said Opdyke. "I demand a vote."
"I insist upon it," said Wash.
The vote was taken and Macnooder was declared chairman of the Finance Committee. Crazy Opdyke arose and made them a profound bow.
"Gentlemen, I have the honour of bidding you farewell," he said, loftily. "The voice of freedom has been stifled. This great party is in the hands of commercial interests and private privilege. This is nothing but a Dickinson House sinecure. I retire, I withdraw, I shake the dust from my feet. I depart, but I shall not sleep, I shall not rest, I shall neither forget nor forgive. Remember, gentlemen of the Anti-Federalist party, this hour, and when in the stillness of the night you hear the swish of the poisoned arrow, the swirl of the tomahawk, the thud of the secret stone, pause and say to yourself, 'Crazy Opdyke done it!'"
"It is unfortunate," said Cheyenne, when Crazy had departed, "most unfortunate, but that's politics."
"Crazy has no influence," said Wash, contemptuously.
"He has our secrets," said Cheyenne gloomily.
"Let's get to work," said Macnooder. "You can bet Tough McCarthy's on the job; his father's an alderman."
At six o'clock the campaign was off with a rush. At seven the head master, all unsuspecting, stepped out from Foundation House, cast one fond glance at the familiar school, reposing peacefully in the twilight, and departed to carry the message of increased liberty in primary education to a waiting conference at Boston. Shortly after, a delegation of the school faculty, who had just learned of the prospective campaign, hurried over in amazed, indignant and incredulous protest. They missed the head master by ten minutes—but ten minutes make history.
"Jiminy crickets!"
"Suffering Moses!"
"Call Hickey!"
"Tell Hickey!"
"Hickey, stick your head out of the window!"
Hickey, slumbering peacefully, in that choicest period between the rising bell and breakfast, leaped to the middle of the floor at the uproar that suddenly resounded through the Dickinson.
He thrust his head out of the window and beheld from the upper stories of the Griswold an immense white sheet sagging in the breeze, displaying in crude red-flannel letters the following device:
NO APRON-STRINGS FOR US
THE FEDERAL PARTY
WILL FIGHT TO THE END
FACULTY USURPATION
Hardly had his blinking eyes become accustomed to the sight when a fresh uproar broke out on the other side of the Dickinson.
"Hully Gee!"
"Look at the Kennedy!"
"Great cats and little kittens!"
"Snakes alive!"
"Look at the Kennedy, will you!"
"Hickey, oh you, Hickey!"
At the sound of Macnooder's voice in distress, Hickey realised the situation was serious and rushed across the hall. He found Macnooder with stern and belligerent gaze fixed out of the window. From the Kennedy House another banner insolently displayed this amazing proclamation:
DOWN WITH THE GOO-GOOS
LAWRENCEVILLE SHALL NOT BE
A KINDERGARTEN.
RALLY TO THE FEDERALISTS AND
DOWN THE DICKINSON GOO-GOOS
Hickey looked at Macnooder. Macnooder looked at Hickey.
"Goo-Goo," said Hickey, grieved.
"Goo-Goo," repeated Doc sadly. "Goo-Goo and Apron-strings. Hickey, my boy, we have got to be up and doing."
"Doc," said Hickey, "that's Tough McCarthy's work. We never ought to have let him get away from us."
"Hickey, we must nail the lie," said Doc solemnly.
"The Executive Committee of the Anti-Fed party will meet in my rooms," said Hickey determinedly, "directly after first recitation. We have been caught napping by a gang of ballot stuffers, but we will come back—Doc, we will come back!"
The Executive Committee met with stern and angry resolve, like battling football players between the halves of a desperate game.
"Fellows," said Hickey, "while we have slept the enemy has been busy. We are muts, and the original pie-faced mut is yours truly."
"No, Hickey, if there's going to be a competition for muts," said Cheyenne Baxter, "I'm the blue ribbon."
"Before we bestow any more bouquets," said Macnooder sarcastically, "let's examine the situation. Let's see the worst. The Feds have the jump on us. They've raised the cry of 'Apron-strings' on us, and it's going to be a mighty hard one to meet."
"We'll never answer it," said the gloomy Egghead; "we're beaten now. It's a rotten issue and a rotten game."
At this moment the Gutter Pup rushed in like a white fuzzy dog, his eyes bulging with importance as he delivered the bombshell, that Crazy Opdyke had organised a Mugwump party and carried the Cleve House for it.
"No."
"A Mugwump party!"
"What the deuce is he up to?"
"Order," said Hickey, stilling the tumult with a shoe vigorously applied to a wash-basin. "This meeting is not a bunch of undertakers. We are here to save the party."
"Hickey's right," said Turkey; "let's get down to business."
"First," said Hickey, "let's have reports. What has Treasurer Macnooder to report?"
The Mark Hanna of the campaign rose, tightened his belt, adjusted his glasses, and announced amid cheers that the Finance Committee had to report sixty-two dollars and forty cents in promissory notes, twelve dollars and thirty-eight cents in cash, three tennis rackets, two jerseys, one dozen caps, a bull's-eye lantern (loaned) and a Flobert rifle.
"We can always have a banquet, even if we're beaten," said the Triumphant Egghead. The gloom began to dissipate.
"What has the Honourable Gutter Pup to report?" said Cheyenne Baxter.
The Rocky Mountain Gazelle proudly announced the establishment of a thorough system of espionage, through the corrupting of Mr. Klondike Jackson, the coloured gentleman who waited on the table at the Kennedy, and Mr. Alcibiades Bonaparte, who shook up the beds at the Griswold. He likewise reported that young Muskrat Foster, who was not overpopular at the Davis House, had perceived the great truths of Anti-Federalism. He then presented a bill of two dollars and forty-five cents for the corrupting of the Messrs. Jackson and Bonaparte, with an addition of fifty cents for the further contaminating of young Muskrat Foster.
"The Honourable Wash Simmons will report," said Cheyenne Baxter.
"Fellows," said Wash, "I ain't no silver-tongued orator, and all I've got to say is that Butsey White, down at the Green House, is most sensible to the honour of representing this great and glorious party of moral ideas, as congressman from the second form, but——"
"But what?" said Slugger Jones.
"But he kind of fears that the other members of the Green House aren't quite up on Anti-Federalism, and he reckons it will take quite a little literature to educate them."
"Literature?" said Cheyenne, mystified.
"About eight volumes," said Wash. "Eight green-backed pieces of literature!"
"The robber!"
"Why, that's corruption."
"Gentlemen," said Cheyenne, rapping for order, "the question is, does he get the literature? Ayes or noes."
"I protest," interrupted Hickey. "Remember, gents, this is a campaign for clean politics. We will not buy votes, no! we will only encourage local enterprises. The Green is trying to fit themselves out for the baseball season. I suggest contributing toward a catcher's mit and a mask, and letting it go at that."
On the announcement of a unanimous vote, the Honourable Wash Simmons departed to encourage local enterprises.
"And now, fellows," said Hickey, "we come to the serious proposition—the real business of the meeting. We have got to treat with Crazy Opdyke."
"Never!"
"Macnooder must sacrifice himself," said Hickey. "Am I right, Cheyenne?"
"You are," said Cheyenne. "The campaign has reached a serious stage. The Upper, the Kennedy, the Griswold, the Davis, are already Fed; the Rouse will go next. Even if we get the Green, we're lost if the Cleve goes against us, and Crazy is just holding out to make terms."
"We have misjudged Crazy," said Hickey; "his record was against him, but we have misjudged him. He's been the only live one in the bunch. Now we've got to meet his terms."
The door opened and Crazy Opdyke sauntered in.
"Hello, fellows," he drawled. "How's the campaign going? Are you satisfied with your progress?" He stretched languidly into an armchair. "Am I still welcome in the home of great moral ideas?"
"Crazy, our feelings for you are both of sorrow and of affection," said Cheyenne, conciliatingly. "You certainly are a boss politician. What's this new wrinkle of yours over in the Cleve?"
"I've been amusing myself," said Crazy with a drawl, "organising the Mugwumps, the intelligent and independent vote, the balance of power, you know, the party that doesn't heel to any boss, but votes according to its, to its——"
"To its what, Crazy?" said Hickey, gently.
"To its conscience," replied Crazy firmly. "To its conscience, when its conscience is intelligently approached."
"Oh, you're for sale, are you?" said Turkey aggressively.
"No, Turkey, no-o-o! And yet we've organised the Blocks of Five Marching Club; rather significant, eh?"
"Well, what's your game; what have you come for?"
"Oh, just to be friendly," said Crazy, rising languidly.
"Stop," said Hickey. "Sit down. Let's have a few words."
Crazy slouched back, sunk into the armchair and assumed a listening position.
"Crazy," said Hickey, "we've made a mistake. We didn't know you. You are the surprise of the campaign. We apologise. We are merely amateurs; you are the only original, professional politician."
"This is very gratifying," said Crazy, without a blush.
"Crazy, from this moment," said Hickey, firmly, "you are the treasurer of the Campaign Committee, and we're listening for any words of wisdom you have ready to uncork."
"No, Hickey, no," said Crazy, rising amid general dismay, "I no longer hanker to be a treasurer. It was just a passing fancy. Independence is better and more profitable; I appreciate your kind offer, I do appreciate it, Hickey, but I'm a Mugwump; I couldn't wear a dog-collar, I couldn't!"
"Sit down again, Crazy," said Hickey, persuasively; "sit down. It's a pleasure to talk with you. You're right; your independent and intelligent nature would be thrown away in a matter of books and figures. We've been looking round for a fearless, upright, popular and eloquent figure to stand for the Cleve, and, Crazy, we're just aching to have you step up into the frame."
"Hickey, you mistake me, you mistake me and my motives," said Crazy, sadly. "My soul does not hanker for personal glorification or the flattery of the multitude. I'm a child of nature, Hickey, and my ambitions are few and simple."
"It's right to have ambitions, Crazy," said Hickey, soothingly, "and they don't need to be few or simple. We regret that we cannot honour your eminent qualities as we wish to, but we still have hopes, Crazy, that we may have the benefit of your guiding hand."
"Guiding hand?" said Crazy, looking at the ceiling.
"Exactly," said Hickey, magnanimously; "in fact, I realise how unworthy I am to fill the great position of trust and responsibility of vice-chairman of this committee, and I long to see it in the hands——"
"I thought you said guiding hand," said Crazy, interrupting.
The assembled committee looked in amazement at Crazy. Then the storm broke out.
"Why, you insolent, impudent pup!"
"Do you think we'll make you chairman?"
"Kick him out!"
"Rough-house!"
"Order!" cried Cheyenne. "Crazy, out with it. You want to be chairman, don't you?"
"Have I made any demands?" said Crazy, coolly.
"Come now—yes or no!"
"Are you handing it to me?"
A fresh storm of indignation was interrupted by the sudden tumultuous reappearance of Wash Simmons, shouting:
"Fellows, Butsey White and the Green have sold out to the Mugwumps!"
Crazy Opdyke sat down again.
A long silence succeeded. Then Cheyenne Baxter, mutely interrogating every glance, rose and said:
"Crazy, you win. The chairmanship is yours. Will you take it on a silver platter or with a bouquet of roses?"
That evening, when Hickey went to report to Ernest Garrison Baldwin, he found that civic reformer in a somewhat perturbed condition.
"I'm afraid, Hicks," he said dubiously, "that the campaign is getting a wrong emphasis. It seems to me that those Federalist banners are not only in questionable taste, but show a frivolous and trifling attitude toward this great opportunity."
"It's just the humour of the campaign, sir," said Hickey reassuringly; "I wouldn't take them seriously."
"Another thing, Hicks; I'm rather surprised that the management of the campaign does not seem to be in the hands of the very representative committee you originally selected."
"Yes, sir," said Hickey; "we realise that; but we're making a change in our party at least which will please you. Opdyke is going to take control."
"Indeed! That is reassuring; that is a guarantee on your side, at least, of a dignified, honourable canvass."
"Oh, yes, sir," said Hickey.
He left gravely and scampered across the campus. Suddenly from the Woodhull Toots Cortell's trumpet squeaked out. At the same moment the first Anti-Fed banner was flung out, thus conceived:
TURN THE ROBBERS OUT
NO MORE GRAFTING
NO MORE GOUGING THE UNDER FORMERS
FACULTY SUPERVISION MEANS
SAVING TO THE POCKET
OUT WITH THE BLACKMAILERS
The astute and professional hand of the Honourable Crazy Opdyke was felt at once. The Anti-Fed party, while still advocating faculty control of the athletic finances for purposes of efficiency and economy, now shifted the ground by a series of brilliant strokes.
The third day of the campaign had hardly opened when the four fusion houses displayed prominently the following proclamation:
ECONOMY AND JIGGERS
FACULTY MANAGEMENT OF THE FINANCES
MEANS RIGID ECONOMY
PROTECTION OF THE WEAK
FROM THE TYRANNY OF THE TAX GATHERER
EQUITABLE PRO-RATA
LEVYING OF CONTRIBUTIONS
ECONOMY MEANS MORE JIGGERS
MORE JIGGERS MEANS
MORE HAPPINESS FOR THE GREATER NUMBER
VOTE FOR THE FATTER POCKETBOOK
Hardly had this argument to the universal appetite been posted before the Feds retorted by posting a proclamation:
FACULTY PLOT
EVIDENCE IS PILING UP THAT THE
PRESENT POLITICAL CAMPAIGN IS A
HUGE FACULTY CONSPIRACY TO DEPRIVE
THE SCHOOL OF ITS LIBERTIES
BY UNDERGROUND DARK-LANTERN
METHODS, WHERE IT DOES NOT DARE
TO ATTEMPT IT OPENLY
THE APRON-STRINGS ARE IN POSSESSION
OF A GIGANTIC CORRUPTION
FUND WHO IS PUTTING UP?
When this attack became public the Anti-Feds were in deep deliberation, planning a descent on the Hamill House. The news of the outrageous charge was borne to the conference by Hungry Smeed, with tears in his eyes.
"Crazy," said Doc, "we must meet the charge, now, at once."
There was a chorus of assent.
"We will," said Crazy, diving into his pocket and producing a wad of paper. "This is what I've had up my sleeve from the beginning. This is the greatest state paper ever conceived."
"Let's have it," said Hickey, and Crazy proudly read:
THE FULL PROGRAMME
The Campaign of Slander and Vilification Instituted by Tough McCarthy and His Myrmidons Will Not Deceive the Intelligent and Independent Voter. Anti-Federalist Candidates Only Are the Defendants of the Liberties of the School.
Anti-Fed. Candidates Stand Solemnly Pledged to Work For Increased Privileges.
ACCESS TO THE JIGGER-SHOP AT ALL TIMES
REMOVING THE LIMIT ON WEEKLY ALLOWANCES
ABOLITION OF THE HATEFUL COMPULSORY
BATH SYSTEM
BETTER FOOD MORE FOOD
REGULATION OF SINKERS AND SCRAG-BIRDS
ESTABLISHMENT OF TWO SLEIGHING HOLIDAYS
CUSHIONED SEATS FOR CHAPEL
When this momentous declaration of principles was read there was an appalled silence, while Crazy, in the centre of the admiring circle, grew perceptibly.
Then a shriek burst out and Crazy was smothered in the arms of the regenerated Anti-Feds.
"Crazy will be President of the United States," said Turkey admiringly.
"Wonderful!"
"The bathroom plank will win us fifty votes."
"And what about the jigger vote?"
At this moment an egg passed rapidly through the open window and spread itself on the wall, while across the campus the figure of Mucker Reilly of the Kennedy was seen zigzagging for safety, with his thumb vulgarly applied to his nose.
The Executive Committee gazed at the wall, watching the yellow desecration gradually trickling into a map of South America.
"This means the end of argument," said Cheyenne sadly. "The campaign from now on will be bitter."
"If the appeal to force is going to be made," said Crazy, applying a towel, "we shall endeavour—Doc, shut the window—we shall endeavour to meet it."
"We have now a chance," said Egghead, brightening, "to prove that we are not Goo-Goos."
"Egghead, you are both intelligent and comforting," said Hickey. "The first thing is to corner the egg market."
"The Finance Committee," said Crazy wrathfully, "is empowered to buy, beg or borrow every egg, every squashy apple, every mushy tomato that can be detected and run down. From now on we shall wage a vigorous campaign."
The publication of the Anti-Fed programme roused the party cohorts to cheers and song. The panicky Feds strove desperately to turn the tide with the following warning:
HA! HA!
IT WON'T DO!
WE KNOW THE HAND!
Don't Be Deceived. Hickey is the Sheep in Wolf's Clothing. Stung to the Quick by Our Detection of the Criminal Alliance Between the Anti-Feds and the Faculty, Hickey, the King of the Goo-Goos, is Trying to Bleat Like a Wolf. It Won't Do! They Cannot Dodge the Issue. Stand Firm. Lawrenceville Must Not Be Made Into a Kindergarten.
But this could not stem the rising wave. The Hamill House turned its back on Federalism and threw in its lot with the foes of compulsory bath. Just before supper the Anti-Feds were roused to frenzy by the astounding news that the little Rouse House, isolated though it was from the rest of the school and under the very wing of the Davis, had declared Anti-Fed, for the love of combat that burned in its heroic band led by the redoubtable Charley De Soto and Scrapper Morrissey.
With the declaration of the different houses the first stage of the campaign ended. By supper every house was on a military footing and the dove of peace was hastening toward the horizon.
That night Mr. Baldwin waited in vain for the report of Hickey, waited and wondered. For the first time Baldwin, the enthusiast, began to be a little apprehensive of the forces he had unchained.
A little later Mr. Baronson chose to pay him a visit.
"Well, Baldwin, what news?" he said, drily. "Thoroughly satisfied with your new course in political education?"
"Why, the boys seem to take to it with enthusiasm," said Baldwin rather dubiously. "I think they're thoroughly interested."
"Interested? Yes—quite so. By the way, Baldwin," Baronson stopped a moment and scanned his young subordinate with pitying knowledge, "I'm going to retire for the night. If I had a cyclone cellar I'd move to it. I put you in charge of the house. If any attempt is made to set it on fire or dynamite it, go out and argue gently with the boys, and above all, impress upon them that they are the hope of the country and must set a standard. Reason with them, Baldwin, and above all, appeal to their better natures. Good-night."
Baldwin did not answer. He stood meditatively gazing out the window. From the Dickinson and the Kennedy magic lanterns were flashing campaign slogans on white sheets suspended at opposite houses. The uproar of cat-calls and hoots that accompanied the exhibitions left small reason to hope that they were couched in that clear, reasoning style which would uplift future American politics.
As he looked, from the Upper House the indignant and now thoroughly aroused fourth form started to parade with torch-lights and transparencies. Presently the winding procession, clothed in super-imposed night shirts, arrived with hideous clamour. Dangling from a pole were two grotesque figures stuffed with straw and decked with aprons; overhead was the inscription, "Kings of the Goo-Goos," and one was labelled Hickey and one was labelled Brother. Opposite his window they halted and chanted in soft unison:
Hush, hush, tread softly,
Hush, hush, make no noise,
Baldwin is the King of the Goo-Goos,
Let him sleep,
Let him sleep.
Shouted: LET HIM SLEEP!!!
Then the transparencies succeeded one another, bobbing over the rolling current of indignant seniors.
BACK TO THE KINDERGARTEN!
WE WANT NO BROTHERLY LOVE!
GOOD-BYE, BALDWIN! GOOD-BYE!
Baldwin drew down the shade and stepped from the window. He heard a familiar step in the corridor, and quickly locked the door. Baronson knocked; then he knocked again; after which he moved away, chuckling.
When the fourth form procession arrived on its tour around the circle the Dickinsonians were prepared to welcome it. Crazy Opdyke, head of the literary bureau, stood by the lantern directing the proclamations to be flashed on the sheet that hung from the opposite house.
Hickey and Macnooder posted the orators at strategic windows, supplying them with compressed arguments in the form of eggs and soft apples.
"All ready?" said Opdyke as Hickey returned, chuckling.
"Ready and willing," said Hickey.
"Here they come," said the Big Man.
"Is the Kennedy and the Woodhull with them?" asked Hickey.
"Sure, they're trailing on behind," said Turkey.
A yell of defiance burst from the head of the procession as it reached the headquarters of the enemy.
"Start the literature," said Crazy.
Egghead, at the lantern, slipped in the first slides, flashing them on the opposite sheet.
IT'S ALL OVER, BOYS
FEDERALISM IS IN THE SOUP
FEDERALISTS
THE UPPER HOUSE MYRMIDONS
THE DAVIS JAYHAWKERS
THE WOODHULL SORE HEADS
THE KENNEDY MUCKERS
ANTI-FEDERALISTS
THE ROUSE INVINCIBLES
THE CLEVE INDEPENDENTS
THE GRISWOLD INTELLECTUALS
THE GREEN MUGWUMPS
THE DICKINSON SCHOLARS
THE HAMILL MISSIONARIES
GOOD-BYE, FEDS! GOOD-BYE!
"Now for a few personal references," said Crazy, smiling happily at the howls that greeted his first effort. "Egghead, shove them right along."
Another series was put forth:
WHY, WOODHULL, DID WE STEAL
YOUR ICE CREAM?
IS TOUGH MCCARTHY'S GANG OF
BALLOT-STUFFERS WITH YOU?
WE ARE NOT FOURTH-FORM PUPPY
DOGS
HELLO, TOUGH, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO
BE A PUPPY DOG?
"What are they shouting now?" said Hickey, peering over at the turbulent chaos below.
"They are re-questing us to come out!" said the Egghead.
The night was filled with the shrieks of the helpless Feds.
"Come out!"
"We dare you to come out!"
"Come out, you Dickinson Goo-Goos."
"Why, they're really getting excited," said Hickey. "They're hopping right up and down."
"We will give them a declaration of principles," said Crazy. "Egghead, give them the principles; Hickey, notify the orators to prepare the compressed arguments. The word is 'BIFF.'"
Hickey went tumbling upstairs; the Egghead delivered the new series.
WHY, FEDS, DON'T GET PEEVISH
THIS IS AN ORDERLY CAMPAIGN
A QUIET, ORDERLY CAMPAIGN
REMEMBER, WE MUST UPLIFT THE
NATION
Outside, the chorus of hoots and cat-calls gave way to a steady rhythmic chant:
GOO-GOOS, GOO-GOOS, GOO-GOOS!
"How unjust!" said Crazy, sadly. "We must clear ourselves; we must nail the lie—in a quiet, orderly way! Let her go, Egghead; Cheyenne, give Hickey the cue."
On the sheet suddenly flashed out:
WE ARE GOO-GOOS, ARE WE? BIFF!
At the same moment, from a dozen windows descended a terrific broadside of middle-aged eggs, assorted vegetables and squashy fruit.
The Federalist forces, utterly off their guard, dripping with egg and tomato, vanished like a heap of leaves before a whirlwind, while from the Anti-Federalist houses exultant shrieks of victory burst forth.
"If we are to be called Goo-Goos," said Crazy, proudly, "we have, at least, made Goo-Goo a term of honour."
"To-morrow should be a very critical day in the campaign," said Macnooder, pensively.
"I suggest that on account of the uncertain state of the weather," said Hickey, wisely, "all window-blinds should be closed and locked."
"I think," said Cheyenne, "that we had better march to chapel in close formation."
"Are there any more arguments left?" said Crazy.
"Quite a number."
"They must be delivered to-night," said Crazy, firmly. "No egg shall be allowed to spoil—in this house."
At eleven o'clock that night, as the head master sat in his room in distant Boston, giving the last touches to the address which he had prepared for the following day on the "Experiment of Self-Government and Increased Individual Responsibility in Primary Education," the following telegram was handed to him:
Come back instantly. School in state of anarchy. Rioting and pillaging unchecked. Another day may be too late. Baldwin's course in political education.
Baronson.
When the Doctor, after a night's precipitous travel, drove on to the campus he had left picturesque and peaceful but a few days before, he could hardly believe his eyes. The circle of houses was stained and spotted with the marks of hundreds of eggs and the softer vegetables. From almost every upper window a banner (often ripped to shreds) or a mutilated proclamation was displayed. Proclamations blossomed on every tree, couched in vitriolic language. Two large groups of embattled boys, bearing strange banners, were converging across the campus, with haggard, hysterical faces, fists clenched and muscles strung in nervous tension, waiting the shock of the approaching clash.
The Doctor sprang from the buggy and advanced toward chapel with determined, angry strides. At the sight of the familiar figure a swift change went over the two armies, on the point of flying at each other's throats. The most bloodthirsty suddenly quailed, the most martial scowls gave place to looks of innocence. In the twinkling of an eye every banner had disappeared, and the two armies, breaking formation, went meekly and fearfully into chapel.
The Doctor from his rostrum looked down upon the school. Under his fierce examination every glance fell to the hymn-book.
"Young gentlemen of the Lawrenceville School, I will say just one word," began the head master. "This political campaign will Stop, NOW, AT ONCE!" He paused at the spectacle of row on row of blooming eyes and gory features, and, despite himself, his lips twitched.
In an instant the first ranks began to titter, then a roar of laughter went up from the pent-up, hysterical boys. They laughed until they sobbed, for the first time aware of the ridiculousness of the situation. Then as the Doctor, wisely refraining from further discourse, dismissed them, they swayed out on the campus where the Davis fell into the arms of the Dickinson, and Fed and Anti-Fed rolled with laughter on the ground.
When Hickey, that afternoon, brazenly sought out Mr. Baldwin, a certain staccato note in the greeting caused a dozen careful phrases to die on his tongue.
"Don't hesitate, Hicks," said Baldwin, smiling coldly.
"I came, sir," said Hicks, looking down, "I came—that is, I—Mr. Baldwin, sir, I'm sorry it turned out such a failure."
"Of course, Hicks," said Baldwin, softly, "of course. It must be a great disappointment—to you. But it is not a failure, Hicks. On the contrary, it has been a great success—this campaign of education. I have learned greatly. By the way, Hicks, kindly announce to the class that I shall change my method of hearing recitations. I have a new system—based on the latest discoveries in the laws of probability. Announce also an examination for to-morrow."
"To-morrow?" said Hickey, astounded.
"On the review—in the interest of education—my education. Don't look down, Hicks—I cherish no resentment against you—none at all."
"Against me?" said Hickey, aggrieved.
"My feelings are of gratitude and affection only. You have been the teacher and I the scholar—but——" He paused and purveyed the persecuted Hicks with the smile of the anaconda for the canary, "but, Hicks, my boy, whatever else may be the indifference of the masters toward your education, when you leave Lawrenceville you will not be weak in—mathematics."
[THE MARTYRDOM OF WILLIAM HICKS]
Hickey had now reached the height of his fame. Intoxicated by success, he forgot all prudence, or rather his revolt became an appetite that demanded constant feeding. He no longer concealed his past exploits, he even went so far as to announce the escapades he planned.
"You are running your head into the noose, Hickey, my boy," said Macnooder, sadly; "every master in the school has got his eye on you."
"I know it," said Hickey proudly, "but they've got to catch me."
"Your position is different," objected Macnooder, "now you are suspected. And do you want me to tell you the truth? Your trick about the clappers was too clever. If you could imagine that, you were at the bottom of other things. That's what the Doctor will say to himself when he thinks it over."
"The Doctor plays square," retorted Hickey; "he won't do anything on suspicion. Let him try and catch me, let them all try. If they get me fair and square, I'll take my punishment. I say, Doc, just you wait. I've got something up my sleeve that'll make them all sit up."
"Good Lord!" said the Egghead, who was of the party, "you don't mean you're going on?"
"Egghead," said Hickey, impressively, "I've made up my mind that I just can't live without doing one thing more!"
"Heavens, Hickey! what now?"
"I've got a craving, Egghead, to sleep in Tabby's bed."
"No!"
"Fact."
"What do you mean?"
"Just that. I intend to sleep, not just pop in and out, to sleep two hours in Tabby's nice, white, little bed."
"Gee whiz, Hickey! When?"
"Some night that's coming pretty soon."
"When Tabby's away——"
"No, sir, when Tabby's here—after Tabby himself has been in it. After that I'm going to get back at Big Brother."
"You're crazy!"
"I'm backing my feelings."
"You'll bet on it?"
"As much as you want."
The scornful Egghead, thus provoked, offered ten to one against him. Hickey accepted at once.
During the day the news spread and the bets came flying in. As to his plans, Hickey preserved a cloaked mystery, promising only that the feat should take place within the fortnight.
Each night toward midnight, he slipped out of Sawtelle's window (Sawtelle being sworn to deadly secrecy). He remained out an hour, sometimes two, and came back sleepy and chuckling. About this time the report began to spread that burglars were in the vicinity.
The Gutter Pup, who roomed on the first floor of the Woodhull, took a solemn oath that having been waked up by a strange scratching noise at his window, he had seen four masked figures with bull's-eye lanterns scurrying away. The next report came from Davis with added picturesqueness. The school became wrought up to an extraordinary pitch of excitement in which even the masters joined after a period of incredulity.
When the proper stage of frenzy arrived, Hickey took into his confidence a dozen allies.
At exactly two o'clock on a moonless night, Beauty Sawtelle, waiting, watch in hand, gave a horrid shriek and sent a baseball bat crashing through his window, where he afterward swore four masked faces had glared in on him. At the same time the Egghead raised his window and emptied a revolver into the air, shouting:
"Thieves, thieves, there they go!"
Immediately every waiting boy sprang out of bed armed with revolvers, shotguns, brickbats, Japanese swords and what not, and rushed downstairs, shouting:
"Stop thief!"
Mr. Tapping, startled from his slumbers by the uproar, seized a bird-gun and, guided by Hungry Smeed and the Red Dog, rushed out of doors and valorously took the lead of the searching party. By this time the racket had spread about the campus and boys in flimsy garments, ludicrously armed, came pouring out the other houses and joined the wild hunt for the masked marauders. Suddenly, from the direction of Foundation House, a series of shots exploded amid yells of excitement. At once the mass that had been churning in the middle of the campus, set off with a rush. The cry went up that the burglars had been discovered and were fleeing down the road to Trenton. Five minutes later the campus was silent, as boys and masters swept along the highway, their cries growing fainter in the distance.
Meanwhile, Hickey had not lost a second. Hardly had Mr. Tapping's pink pajamas rushed from the Dickinson, when Hickey, entering the study, locked the door and set to work. In a jiffy he had the mattress and bedclothes out the window, down into the waiting hands of Macnooder and the Egghead, who piled them on a ready wheelbarrow. In less than five minutes the iron bedstead, separated into its four component parts, followed. The whole, packed on the wheelbarrow, was hastily rushed into the darkness by the rollicking three. According to the plan, Hickey directed them past Memorial and into the baseball cage, where, by the light of the indispensable dark-lantern, they put the bed together, placed on it the bedding, and saw Hickey crawl blissfully under cover.
When Mr. Tapping returned after an hour's fruitless pursuit down the dusty road, it had begun to dawn upon him, in common with other athletic members of the faculty, that he had been hoaxed. Mr. Tapping was very sensitive to his dignity, and dignity was exceedingly difficult in pajamas, in the chill of a night with a ridiculous bird-gun over his shoulder and an assorted lot of semi-bare savages chuckling about him. Tired, covered with dust, and sheepish, he returned to the Dickinson, gave orders for every one to return to his room and wearily toiled up to seek his comfortable bed.
The vacancy that greeted his eyes left him absolutely incredulous, then beside himself with rage. If on that moment he could have laid his hands on Hickey, he would have done him bodily injury. That Hickey was the perpetrator of this new outrage, as of the previous ones, he never for a moment doubted. His instinct needed no proofs, and in such enmities the instinct is strong. He went directly to Hickey's room, finding it, as he had expected, empty. He sat there half an hour, an hour, fruitlessly. Then he made the rounds of the house and returned to the room, seated himself, folded his arms violently, set his teeth and prepared to wait. He heard four o'clock strike, then five, and he began to nod. He rose, shook himself, returned to his seat and presently fell asleep, and in this condition Hickey, returning, found him.
The bell rang six, and Mr. Tapping, starting up guiltily, glanced hastily at the bed and assured himself thankfully that it was empty. Moreover, conclusive evidence, the counterpane had not been turned down, so Hickey had not gone to bed at all.
By prodigies of will power he remained awake, consoled by the fact that he held at last the evidence needed to debarrass himself of his tormentor. At seven o'clock the gym bell rang the rising hour. Mr. Tapping rose triumphant. Suddenly he stopped and looked down in horror. Something had moved under the bed. The next moment Hickey's face appeared under the skirts of the trailing bedspread—Hickey's face, a mirror of sleepy amazement, as he innocently asked:
"Why, Mr. Tapping, what is the matter?"
"Hicks!" exclaimed Mr. Tapping, too astounded to gather his thoughts, "is that you, Hicks?"
"Yes, sir."
"What are you doing under there?"
"Please sir," said Hickey, "I'm troubled with insomnia and sometimes this is the only way I can sleep."
At two o'clock Hickey was a second time summoned to Foundation House. He went in perfect faith. Nothing had miscarried, there was not the slightest evidence against him. If he was questioned he would refuse to answer—that was all. It had been a morning of exquisite triumph for him. Tabby's bed had not been discovered until ten o'clock, and the transferal to the Dickinson, made in full daylight, had been witnessed by the assembled school. He went across the campus, light of feet and proud of heart, aware of the scores of discreetly admiring eyes that followed him, hearing pleasantly the murmurs which buzzed after him:
"Oh, you prodigious Hickey—oh, you daredevil!"
Of course, the Doctor would be in a towering rage. Hickey was not unreasonable, he understood and expected a natural exhibition of vexation. What could the Doctor do, after all? Ask him questions which he would refuse to answer—that was all, but that was not evidence.
He found the Doctor alone, quietly writing at his desk, and received a smile and an invitation to be seated. Somehow the tranquillity of the head master's attitude did not reassure Hickey. He would have preferred a little more agitation, but this satisfied calm was disquieting.
He stood with his hands behind his back, twirling his cap, studying the photographs of Grecian architecture on the walls, finding it awfully still and wishing the Doctor would begin.
Presently the Doctor turned, put down his spectacles, shoved back from the desk and glanced at Hickey with a smile, saying:
"Well, Hicks, we're going to let you go."
"Beg your pardon, sir," said Hickey, smiling frankly back, "you said——"
"We're going to let you take a vacation."
"Me?"
"You."
Hickey stood a long moment, open-mouthed, staring.
"Do you mean to say," he said, at last, with an effort, "that I am expelled?"
"Not expelled," said the Doctor, suavely, "we don't like that word; we're going to let you go, that's all."
"For what reason?" said Hickey, defiantly.
"For no reason at all," answered the Doctor, smoothly. "There is no reason, there can be no reason, Hicks. We're just naturally going to make up our minds to part with you. You see, Hicks," he continued, tilting back and gazing reminiscently at the ceiling, "we've had a rather agitated session here, rather extraordinary. The trouble seems to have broken out in the Dickinson about the time of the little surprise party at which Mr. Tapping did not assist! Then a few days later our chapel service was disturbed and our janitor put to considerable trouble; next the school routine was thrown into confusion by the removal of the clapper. We passed a very disagreeable period—much confusion, very little study, and the nerves of the faculty were thrown into such a state that even you, Hicks, were suspected.
"'He hadn't any proof,' he said, brokenly, 'no proof—damn him!'"
Then there was the political campaign, a subject too painful to analyse. Last night we lost a great deal of sleep—and sleep is most necessary to the growing boy. All these events have followed with great regularity, and while they have not lacked in picturesqueness, we have, we fear, been forgetting the main object of our life here—to study a little."
"Doctor, I——" broke in Hickey.
"No, Hicks, you misunderstand me," said the Doctor, reproachfully. "All this is true, but that is not why we are going to let you go. We are going to let you go, Hicks, for a much more conscientious reason; we're parting with you, Hicks, because we feel we no longer have anything to teach you."
"Doctor, I'd like to know," began Hickey, with a great lump in his throat. Then he stopped and looked at the floor. He knew his hour had sounded.
"Hicks, we part in sorrow," said the Doctor, "but we have the greatest faith in your career. We expect in a few years to claim you as one of our foremost alumni. Perhaps some day you will give us a library which we will name after you. No, don't be disheartened. We have the greatest admiration for your talents, admiration and respect. Anyone who can persuade two hundred and fifty keen-eyed Lawrenceville boys to pay one dollar apiece for silver gilt scrap-iron souvenirs worth eleven cents apiece because they may or may not be genuine bits of a stolen clapper—anyone who can do that is needed in the commercial development of our country."
"Doctor, do you—do you call this justice?" said Hickey, with tears in his voice.
"No," said the Doctor, frankly, "I call it a display of force. You see, Hicks, you've beaten us at every point, and so all we can do is to let you go."
"I'll hire a lawyer," said Hicks, brokenly.
"I thought you would," said the Doctor, "only I hope you will be easy on us, Hicks, for we haven't much money for damage suits."
"Then I'm to be fired," said Hickey, forcing back the tears, "fired just for nothing!"
"Just for nothing, Hicks," assented the Doctor, rising to close the painful interview, "and, Hicks, as one last favour, we would like to request that it be by the evening train. We have lost a great deal of sleep lately."
"Just for nothing," repeated Hickey, hoarsely.
"Just for nothing," replied the Doctor, as he closed the door.
At six o'clock, in the midst of indignant hundreds, Hickey climbed to the top of the stage, where his trunks had already been deposited. Nothing could comfort him, neither the roaring cheers that echoed again and again to his name, nor the hundreds of silent hand-shakes or muttered vows to continue the good fight. His spirit was broken. All was dark before him. Neither right nor justice existed in the world.
Egghead and Macnooder, visibly affected, reached up for the last hand-shakes.
"Keep a stiff upper lip, old man," said the Egghead.
"Don't you worry, Hickey, old boy," said Macnooder; "we'll attend to Tabby."
Then Hickey, bitterly, from the caverns of his heart, spoke, raising his fist toward Tabby's study window.
"He hadn't any proof," he said, brokenly, "no proof—damn him!"
Transcriber's notes:
Different spelling of 'education' and 'ed-u-cation' results from different accentuation in the text.
Different spelling of 'educational' and 'ed-u-cational' results from different accentuation in the text.