“No.”
“Old Crabtree is a fool!” burst out Henry Lee. “I’d give half my spending money to ship him to—to Africa or the North Pole.”
“Say, I’ve got an idea!” burst out Stuffer. “Why not send him a bogus telegram, saying his grandfather or second cousin is dying of brainstorm, or something like that, and ask him to come right on? That might take him away until the captain got back.”
“We might try that,” mused Jack. “But let us see first what happens to-morrow. Maybe by morning Crabtree and Cuddle will cool off—and perhaps the fellows will cool off too.”
What had become of the teachers and the strange men none of the cadets knew, and the absence of all made the boys worry somewhat, although they tried not to show it. They wondered if the teachers had really gone off to summon more help, or make a formal complaint to the authorities. There was very little playing or studying done that evening.
“Might as well go to bed,” said Pepper, when the usual time for retiring was at hand. “I must say, I am dead tired. Such strenuous times are too much for me.”
One by one the cadets went to their various dormitories. A few were inclined to “cut up,” but Jack soon stopped this in every room but that occupied by Reff Ritter and his cronies.
“I want you to be on your good behavior,” said the young major. “Remember, when Captain Putnam gets back I am going to give him a full and true report of what happened.”
“Don’t you dare to say anything to him about inkwells and plates,” growled Ritter. “If you do you’ll get into trouble.”
“I expect every student to confess to just what was done,” answered Jack.