“Hold on, fellows,” called Tom.
At the sound of his calm voice the rush that had begun toward the door of the dining room, was halted. A look of relief came over the face of Monitor Blackford.
“Fellows!” said Tom, “this thing has come to a crisis. They’re trying to break this strike by unfair means. I’ve no doubt that the suggestion came from Skeel. Doctor Meredith never would have done it of his own accord. Skeel has a bad influence over him. Now then, it’s up to us to beat ’em at their own game!”
“But we can’t live on bread and water!” declared Ned Wilton. “At least I won’t. I’m not used to such fare. I always want fruit in the morning, and eggs.”
“So do lots of us,” said Tom quietly. “But we’re not going to get it this morning, at least. Now then, let’s look at this thing quietly. Let’s accept it. It can’t last forever. Sooner or later the story will get out, and the college faculty will have to give in. Our cause is right, and we’ll win. All we ask is civil treatment, as the old sailor said after the whale chase, and blamed little of that. Here’s for a hearty breakfast of bread and water.”
He made a move toward his place.
“But there’s not even butter on the bread!” cried Jack.
“Prisoners aren’t usually furnished with luxuries,” commented Tom, quietly.
“Oh, say, I’m not going to stand for this!” burst out Bert Wilson. “I’m going to leave, and wire home for permission to resign from Elmwood Hall.”
He strode toward the front door, intending to see if he could get out, but Mr. Blackford stood on guard, and he was not a small man.