“My work? Why—er—no, sir.”
“It is—he needn’t deny it,” put in Hockley. “I saw him with some pitch yesterday.”
This was true, for Darry had picked up a small ball of the stuff which Hockley had placed where he knew the other lad would be certain to see it. And now the professor remembered seeing the pitch, too.
“This is not the kind of a joke I like,” said Amos Strong, severely. “I thought better of you, Crane. These boys will have hard work to get themselves free of the mess.”
“I’ve got one foot out!” cried Mark, and out it came, but minus the sock, which was left where it had stuck.
The others were working with a will and at last they got free of both shoes and socks, and then Professor Strong sent them back to their staterooms to don other foot coverings. Having looked into his own stateroom he found his shoes also full of the pitch, which he had escaped by putting on a pair of traveling slippers.
“I will not have such jokes played,” he said, when he encountered Darry once more. “You should be above it. If such a thing happens again I shall have to punish you.”
“I didn’t—” began Darry, and then shut his mouth hard. Even though ordinarily light-hearted, Darry had a temper, and now it began to rise at this unjust accusation. The professor looked at him and he looked at the professor, and then they separated.
But little was said at the breakfast table, but once a glance passed between Darry and Hockley which was far from friendly. The meal was soon over, and then Mark, Frank and Sam followed Darry to his stateroom.
“Look here, Darry, we want to know the truth of this,” began Mark, when the door was shut. “Did you do this, or didn’t you?”