“Here it is, on the ground,” said Baxter. “Too bad, it’s tumbled over.”
“The limb broke down with it, it was so heavy,” said Reff Ritter.
Baxter got down and struck a match.
“The stuff is pretty well tumbled around,” said he. “And, say—some of the turkey is gone!” he added.
“Maybe some animal came up and took it,” suggested Coulter. “I thought I saw a dog on the road.”
“I am not going to eat after a dog,” said Ritter.
“Oh, I reckon it’s all right,” said Baxter, hastily. He did not want anything to occur to spoil the grandness of his proposed spread. To his cronies he had boasted that this was to be the finest spread ever given on the sly at Putnam Hall.
Taking up the basket, the bully rearranged the things. He noticed that there was not as much as he had ordered, and made up his mind to “pitch into” Amos Shepard when next they should meet. He and Coulter carried the basket and Ritter the jug of cider, and off they went to the Hall, entering unobserved by a back way, and sneaking to their dormitory, where the goodies were hidden in a clothes closet.
“Oh, wait till to-night!” said Pepper, as he and his chums also returned.
The evening seemed to drag after that, so many were waiting for bedtime to come. Baxter tried to learn from Dale what the talk earlier in the evening had meant, but got no satisfaction.