At this moment, two boys entered the dormitory; and, seeing the crowd gathered about Tom’s bed, they approached, and worked their way through the students, to obtain a view of the new-comer; and the latter was delighted when he recognized Eugene Rich and Augustus Miller, two of his very intimate friends, and members of the society of Night-hawks. They expressed much joy at meeting Tom. After they had shaken hands with him, Rich turned to the boy who had called the new student a “greeny,” exclaiming:
“See here, Dick Martin, you had better mind what you are about! Newcombe is an old friend of mine, and if you know when you are well off, you won’t fool with him much.”
“That’s a fact,” said Miller. “Better apologize.”
This put an entirely new aspect on the case. Tom had already seen that he had made a blunder when he threatened to “tell the teacher,” and he was wondering how he could restore himself to favor. This could only be done by a proper exhibition of “spunk,” which would show the students that, although he had threatened to appeal to the principal for protection, he still had the ability to defend himself, and that he was one who could not be tormented with impunity. Had he been left to himself, he would not have known how to act; but when he found that his two friends were ready to stand by him, he suddenly became very courageous.
“I certainly didn’t mean to insult him,” said Martin. “When I inquired if he was a greeny, I only wanted to know if he had ever attended a military school before. I take it all back.”
“Better look out,” said Tom, shaking his head, threateningly. “I don’t stand much nonsense.”
“I always knew you were a spunky chap, Tom,” said Miller. “But Martin didn’t mean anything. He’s an old chum of mine; so shake hands and be friends.”
Martin, accordingly extended his hand, which was accepted by Tom, who drew himself up to his full height, and thrust out his chest, to make himself appear as much like a soldier as possible, at the same time favoring his new friend with a glance which was intended to prove the truth of what he had said but a moment before—that he was a boy that “wouldn’t stand much nonsense.”
“That’s right,” said Rich, who appeared to be a sort of leader among his companions. “Now, sit down here, Newcombe. You don’t know how often I have wished for you,” he continued, as Tom seated himself on the bed. “It’s lonesome here, and we want some brave, strong fellow to propose some fun for us, and to help us out in it. (Here Tom straightened himself up again, and assumed what he considered to be a very reckless look, as if to assure the students standing about that he was the very fellow they wanted.) By the way, what are the Night-hawks doing now?”
Rich had been a member of the academy ever since the commencement of the session (five months), and during this time had never once been granted a furlough for a single hour. He was a lazy, good-for-nothing boy, more fond of mischief than of his books, and, as a consequence, he was always behindhand in his lessons; and, from being the fifth in the highest class in school, he had been “promoted backward,” until he found himself in the lowest class but one in the academy. He was too lazy to exert himself to regain his lost position; he was up before a court-martial nearly every month for some violation of the rules, and spent more than half his time in working out the punishments to which he was sentenced. His friend and right-hand man, Miller, was often in the same predicament; and this was the reason why they had never been allowed any privileges. Miller had been a shining light among the Night-hawks, holding the office of fourth colonel, while Rich was a second lieutenant, in good standing; and, having been confined so long, it was natural that they should wish to hear from the young rogues about the village.