“Yes; sure-enough Indians they were too, and not make-believes. We thought, by the way they yelled at us, that they meant business. Why, they raised such a rumpus about the camp that some of our lady guests came very near fainting, they were so frightened. Didn’t Egan tell you how he and Don deserted, swam the creek, went to the show disguised as country boys, and finally fell into the hands of those same Indians who had surrounded the camp and were getting ready to attack us?”
No, Egan hadn’t said a word about any of these things to Enoch, and neither had Don or Bert spoken of them to Lester; although they might have done so if the latter had showed them a little more courtesy when they called upon him at his house. Some of the matters referred to were pleasant episodes in the lives of the Bridgeport students, and the reason why Egan had not spoken of them was because he did not want Enoch to think there was anything agreeable about the institution. He didn’t want him there, because he did not believe that Enoch would be any credit to the school; and so he did with him just as Don and Bert did with Lester: he enlarged upon the rigor of the discipline, the stern impartiality of the instructors, the promptness with which they called a delinquent to account, and spoke feelingly of their long and difficult lessons; but he never said “recreation” once, nor did he so much as hint that there were certain hours in the day that the students could call their own.
“Tell us about that fight,” said Enoch.
“Yes, do,” chimed in Lester. “If there is any way to see fun here, let us know what it is.”
Jones was just the boy to go to with an appeal of this sort. He was thoroughly posted, and if there were any one in the academy who was always ready to set the rules and regulations at defiance, especially if he saw the shadow of a chance for escaping punishment, Jones was the fellow. He gave a glowing description of the battle at the camp; told how the boys ran the guard, and where they went and what they did after they got out; related some thrilling stories of adventure of which the law-breakers were the heroes; and by the time the dinner-call was sounded, he had worked his two auditors up to such a pitch of excitement that they were ready to attempt almost anything.
“You have given me some ideas,” said Enoch, as they hurried toward their dormitories in obedience to the call, “and who knows but they may grow to something? I’ve got to stay here—I had a plain understanding with my father on that point—and I am going to think up something that will yield us some sport.”
“That’s the way I like to hear a fellow talk,” said Jones, approvingly; “and I will tell you this for your encouragement: we care nothing for the risk we shall run in carrying out your scheme, whatever it may be, but before we undertake it, you must be able to satisfy us that we can carry it out successfully. Do that, and I will bring twenty boys to back you up, if you need so many. We are always glad to have fellows like you come among us, for our tricks grow stale after a while, and we learn new ones of you. Don Gordon can think up something in less time than anybody I ever saw; but it would be useless to look to him for help. Egan and the other good little boys have taken him in hand, and they’ll make an officer of him this year; you wait and see if they don’t.”
“Jones gave me some ideas, too,” thought Lester, as he marched into the dining-hall with his company, and took his seat at the table; “but I must say I despise the way he lauded that Don Gordon. Don seems to make friends wherever he goes, and they are among the best, too; while I have to be satisfied with such companions as I can get. I am going to set my wits at work and see if I can’t study up something that will throw that bull-dog business far into the shade.”
Unfortunately for Lester this was easy of accomplishment. He was not obliged to do any very hard thinking on the subject, for a plan was suggested to him that very afternoon. There was but one objection to it: he would have to wait four or five months before it could be carried out.
Lester’s room-mate was a boy who spelled his name Huggins, but pronounced it as though it were written Hewguns. He had showed but little disposition to talk about himself and his affairs, and all Lester could learn concerning him was that he was from Massachusetts, and that he lived somewhere on the sea-coast. He and Lester met in their dormitory after dinner, and while the latter proceeded to put on his hat and overcoat, Huggins threw himself into a chair, buried his hands in his pockets and gazed steadily at the floor.