“Rappin’! Well, you ain’t goin’ to rap me. I’ll let you know that!” growled the deaf janitor.
“I said snapping—not rapping—a snapping turtle!” Codfish put his mouth close to the janitor’s ear. “A snapping turtle!”
“What’s that? No, I ain’t got no snappin’ turtle. What would I be doin’ with a snappin’ turtle?” queried Plunger blankly.
“I said I had one here—on my thumb!” cried Codfish. “It’s gone now. I guess my fall knocked it off,” and he looked around in the rather dim corridor to see what had become of the turtle, but without locating the creature.
“I’m off, am I?” snarled Plunger, who had been asked that day to do a large amount of extra work by the cadets, and was consequently in no good humor. “I ain’t half as much off as you are, you young rascal!” He grabbed Codfish by the arm. “You jest pick up them magazines and put ’em in my arms ag’in, or I’ll report you.”
At this the sneak muttered something under his breath. But he was afraid of the deaf janitor, and so he began to pick up the various magazines that had been scattered around and piled them high in Plunger’s arms. While he was doing this, he continued to look around for the snapping turtle, but the little creature had disappeared.
“Now you be careful after this,” said Plunger, when the task of gathering up the scattered magazines had been completed. “After this when you want to run through the halls, you walk!” And then he continued on his way.
The Rovers and their chums had witnessed the scene in the corridor, but as soon as Stowell turned to come back to his room they ran off and down a side stairs, carrying the packing cases with them.
“Say, but that was rich—the way he thumped into Shout,” was Andy’s comment.
“Yes, and the way Shout took him up for what he said,” returned Randy. “Gosh! it seems to me as if poor old Shout is getting deafer every day.”