“Not at all. But it is going to be no walk-over to outdo him, that’s all.”
“I wish he’d fall and break his neck,” growled Paxton.
“So do I. But he won’t fall—he is too strong and steady.”
Reff Ritter walked down to the gymnasium in a thoughtful mood. Only a few boys were about and none near the flying-rings.
“I wish I could fix it so Ruddy would get a good tumble,” he muttered. “It would serve him right.”
He leaped up on the flying-rings and tried one pair after another. He had a notion to cut some of the ropes half in two, but reflected that this might bring harm to somebody else instead of the young major.
“Wonder if I could dope him?” mused the bully. “Let me see, how did that fellow in Paris do that trick? He told me all about it at that boxing match. Ah, I have it! The question is, can I work the game without being caught?”
Ritter knew he must go at what was in his mind with extreme caution. He remembered that Jack was a copious water-drinker, and usually drank one glass of water at least at every meal.
“That’s my cue,” said the bully to himself. “Now, if I can only get the stuff out of the Hall medicine closet.” He referred to a medicine closet located at the back of the main hall of the school. In this were kept a variety of medicines, to be used in case of emergency.
Once Reff had been sick, and to make him sleep—for he was very wide-awake and nervous at the time—Captain Putnam had given him some kind of powder in water. This had lulled his senses to repose in a short time. He remembered that box with the white powder very well.