“He sent Peleg Snuggers up to the door of our dormitory, stating he wanted to have a talk with me. As soon as I got to the office Cuddle and some of those outside guards pounced on me like a lot of wolves. I gave Cuddle a good one in the nose and he hit me over the head with a cane—and then I was thrown in here. Somebody must have told them about the inkwell and the hot potatoes and plates. I believe it was you!” And Ritter gave Jack an ugly look.
“I didn’t say a word, Reff—I give my word of honor.”
“I don’t believe you, Jack Ruddy. If you didn’t, why am I here?”
“For that matter, why am I here?”
“I don’t know, excepting as a witness against me.”
“You are mistaken, Reff. Whether you believe it or not, I did not tell Crabtree a word about you—in fact, your name wasn’t mentioned to me. I was asked to come down to the office and I went—and then I was attacked from behind, made a prisoner, and brought here.”
“Humph!” muttered the bully, and that was all he said for the time being.
Several more minutes passed and then from a distance they heard a sudden cry for help. Both leaped up from their chairs.
“That was Bob Grenwood’s voice!” exclaimed Jack. “It came from the direction of the office. Maybe they are serving him as they served us.”
“Maybe,” returned Reff Ritter, and his face lost some of its gloomy look. It was a case of “misery loves company,” with him. The young major’s words proved true, and in a few minutes the former quartermaster of the Hall battalion was thrown violently into the guardroom. His collar was partly torn, and blood was flowing from a scratch on his cheek.