The Young Wild-Fowlers

by Harry Castlemon

“Just notice that squatty little jackanapes,” he would often say to those around him, especially if they chanced to be boys of his own stamp. “Don’t he cut a pretty figure in that dress? Just see him strut, will you? I should judge by the airs he throws on that his father must be worth as much as a dollar and a half.”

If Mack had told Ross and the other disappointed ones just how he felt when he came out almost covered with gold lace, they would not have believed him. Mack, to quote from his friends, was as “common as an old shoe,” and he liked to be comfortable.

“See how everybody stares at me,” said he to his chum, one day. “I must look like a scarecrow in these duds.”

“You don’t, either,” exclaimed Don, with some indignation in his tones. “You look splendid.”

“Well,” replied Mack, with a sigh of resignation, “if they will give me back my old blouse and my captain’s shoulder-straps, they can keep their finery, or give it to some one who appreciates it more than I do.”

Wallace Ross cordially hated these two boys simply because they had worked their way to the top of the ladder while he was still standing at the foot. He was one of those who would have been glad to see them disgraced before the whole school. That was something that could not be brought about by any scheming or effort on his part; but he believed that he could deeply wound Colonel Mack’s feelings, and through him those of Don Gordon. The conversation he had just overheard had suggested to him the way. After he had taken a few turns up and down the hall, revolving the matter in his mind all the while, his eyebrows began to relax, then a triumphant smile overspread his face, and finally he threw back his head and laughed heartily. The sound startled him. He looked hastily up and down the hall, and was greatly relieved to find that there was no one in sight.

“It can be done,” said he, to himself, as he made his way to his room. “I just know it can be done if there is any one in our crowd who has brains enough to manage it, and if Lester is spoiling for a chance to take those shoulder-straps down a peg or two, as he says he is, he can’t refuse to attempt it.”

Ross did not belong to “our crowd” yet. In accordance with his promise Lester had said a good word for him to Enoch and the rest, not forgetting to mention the fact that Ross had money that the superintendent knew nothing about, that he was quite willing to spend a portion of it every chance he got, and Enoch had promised to remember him. He did remember him too, every time he found his funds running low, and on this particular afternoon he and Lester and a few chosen spirits were down at Cony Ryan’s, filling up on pancakes which Enoch paid for with the dollar he had borrowed of Ross that morning.

The latter went to his room full of his new idea, and walked up and down the floor with his hands behind his back while he matured his plans. He saw a thousand and one difficulties in his path, but he found a way to surmount or get around every one of them, and when Lester came in he was all ready to astonish him.

That night after supper the boys belonging to the first class, which was to graduate at the end of the term, made their way toward their recitation room; and when they were all assembled and the secretary had called the roll, the door was locked to keep out intruders. It being the regular business meeting several reports were submitted, but the one in which the students were the most interested was the one presented by the committee of arrangements, some of whose members had passed the day in Hamilton. The chairman went more into details than he did while he was warming his fingers in the hall, and when he ceased speaking and had answered a few questions that were propounded to him by different members of the class, the boys told one another that their banquet would be talked of when some of those who sat down to it were forgotten. After that the secretary was instructed to write to Mr. Taylor, the well-known caterer, who had furnished all the big dinners for the military and civic societies of Hamilton as long as Cony Ryan had sold pancakes and maple syrup on the shores of the big pond, and to Mr. Colson, the proprietor of Clarendon Hall, stating that the action of the committee was approved by the class, and that if it were thought best to make any changes in the programme, they would be duly informed of the fact. When the motion had been acted upon, one of the students arose and said: