“Jack excelled himself”
Page [170]

Jack the Runaway

Or
On the Road with a Circus

BY
FRANK V. WEBSTER
AUTHOR OF “BOB THE CASTAWAY,” “THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE,”
“TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY,” “THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

BOOKS FOR BOYS

By FRANK V. WEBSTER

12mo. Illustrated. Bound in cloth.

ONLY A FARM BOY, Or Dan Hardy’s Rise in Life

TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY, Or The Mystery of a Message

THE BOY FROM THE RANCH, Or Roy Bradner’s City Experiences

THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER, Or Fred Stanley’s Trip to Alaska

BOB THE CASTAWAY, Or The Wreck of the Eagle

THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE, Or Herbert Dare’s Pluck

THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS, Or Who Was Dick Box?

THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES, Or Nat Morton’s Perils

TWO BOY GOLD MINERS, Or Lost in the Mountains

JACK THE RUNAWAY, Or On the Road with a Circus

Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1909, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
JACK THE RUNAWAY
Printed in U. S. A.

CONTENTS

JACK THE RUNAWAY

CHAPTER I
JACK WANTS A DOLLAR

“Professor, will you please give me a dollar?” asked Jack Allen, of the elderly man who sat reading a book in the library.

“A dollar, Jack?” and Professor Simonedes Klopper, who had retired from the position of mathematical instructor in a large college, to devote his declining years to study, looked over the rims of his big glasses at the boy before him. “A dollar? Why, what in the world do you want of a dollar, Jack?”

“I—I want to go to a show,” and Jack rather hesitated for he was doubtful over the outcome of his request.

“A show?” and the professor’s eyes opened so wide that, seen through the powerful lenses of his glasses, they reminded Jack of the orbs of a cuttlefish.

“Yes, professor. There’s going to be a show in town to-night, and I’d like to go. All the boys will be there.”

“Does it cost a dollar to go to a—er—a performance?”

“No; not exactly. The tickets are fifty cents, but I wanted a little extra to treat some of my chums with.”

“Treat? Ah, yes, I presume you mean to furnish some sort of refreshment for your youthful companions.”

“Yes, sir. Can I have the money? I haven’t drawn all my allowance this month.”

“No; you are correct there. There is still a balance of two dollars and thirteen cents in your allowance account for this month, computing the interest at six per cent. But I shall not give you the dollar.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? Because I don’t choose to.”

“My father would, if he was here.”

“Well, he isn’t here, and I’m in charge of you, and the money your parents left for your care and support while they are away. I most certainly shall not give you a dollar to waste on any such foolishness as what you term a ‘show’ by which I apprehend that you mean a performance of some character.”

“It’s a vaudeville show,” went on Jack. “It’s real funny.”

“Funny!” ejaculated the professor with a snort. “Fun is a very poor substitute for knowledge, young man. If you have an evening to spare you should spend it on your books. You are very backward in your Latin and mathematics. When I was your age I used to devote my entire evening to working out problems in algebra or geometry.”

“Will you give me fifty cents?” asked Jack desperately, not wishing to let the professor get too deep into the matter of study.

“Fifty cents? What for?”

“Well, I can go to the show for that, but I wanted some to treat the boys with. They’ve bought sodas for me several times, now, and I want to pay them back.”

“Humph! That is all the rising generation thinks of! Having a good time, and eating! No, Jack, I shall not give you a dollar for any such purpose. And I will not give you fifty cents. Do you know that one dollar, put out at six per cent, will, if the interest be compounded, amount in one hundred years, to three hundred and forty dollars? Think of it! Three hundred and forty dollars!”

“But I don’t expect to live a hundred years, professor. Besides, it’s my money,” spoke Jack, with just the least bit of defiance in his tone.

“It is, to a certain extent,” answered the crusty old professor, “but I am the treasurer and your guardian. I shall certainly not permit you to waste your substance in riotous living.”

“I don’t call it riotous living to go to a vaudeville show once in a while, and buy an ice cream soda,” retorted Jack.

“You know nothing about it; nothing whatever. Now if you had asked me for a dollar, to buy some book, that would impart to you useful knowledge, I would have complied at once. More than this, I would have helped you select the book. I have a list of several good ones, that can be purchased for a dollar.”

“I don’t want any books,” murmured Jack.

“You shall have no dollar to spend foolishly.”

“I don’t think it’s foolish,” insisted Jack. “Look here, professor, I’ve been studying hard, lately. I haven’t had any fun in a good while. This is the first chance I’ve had to go to a show, and I think you might let me go. Dad would if he was here.”

“You shall not go. I think I know what is best for you.”

“Then I’m going anyhow!” burst out Jack. “I’m not going to stay shut up in the house all the while! I want a little recreation. If you don’t give me the dollar, I’ll——”

“What will you do?” asked the professor quickly, shutting his book, and standing up. “Don’t you dare to threaten me, young man! What will you do if I don’t give you the dollar? I shall write to your father. The postal authorities must have located him and your mother by this time, even if they are in China.”

“Haven’t you had any word yet?” asked Jack, a new turn being given to his thoughts.

“No; and it is very strange. All trace of them seems to be lost after they left Hong Kong, but the letters will finally reach them. I shall inform Mr. Allen of your conduct.”

“I think he’d say I was right,” murmured Jack.

“That would make no difference to me,” declared the professor. “I know my duty and I am going to do it. But you have not answered my question. What did you threaten to do if I did not give you the dollar?”

“I didn’t threaten anything.”

“You were going to.”

“I was going to say if you didn’t give me the dollar I’d go to the show anyhow.”

“How can you go if you have no money?”

“I’ll find a way. Please, Professor Klopper, advance me a dollar from my allowance that dad left with you for me.”

“Not one penny for such a frivolous use as that,” replied the professor firmly. “Now let me hear no more about it.”

“Well, I’m going!” fired back Jack. “I’m bound to see that show, and have a good time once in a while.”

“That will do!” cried the professor so sharply that Jack was startled. “Go to your room at once. I will deal with you later. I never inflict any punishment when I am angry, and you have very nearly made me so. I will attend to your case later. Go to your room at once!”

There was no choice but to obey. Slowly Jack left the library, and mounted the stairs to his own apartment. His heart was bitter, and he was not a little worried concerning his father and mother, for, since Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester Allen had reached China, on their trip around the world, news had been received that there had been serious uprisings against the “foreign devils” as the Mongolians call people not of their race.

Jack Allen, who was a bright, sturdy youth, of about sixteen years, lived in the town of Westville, in one of our Eastern States. He was an only child, and his parents were well off.

Mr. Allen was very fond of travel, and so was his wife, but they had had little chance to gratify their tastes. A short time before this story opens Mr. Allen’s firm had some business to transact abroad, in several countries. Mr. Allen was offered the chance to go, and, as it was a long-awaited opportunity he decided to take his wife, and, while they were about it, make a tour of the world.

Jack begged hard to be allowed to go, but, as it would have broken up his schooling, and as his father wanted him to become an electrical engineer, he was, much against his will, left at home.

Jack attended the Westville Academy, and was one of the best students in that institution. When his parents decided to make their long trip, they discussed several plans of having their son taken care of while they were away. Finally they decided to send him to live with a former college instructor, Professor Klopper, who was an eminent authority on many subjects.

The professor was a bachelor, and, with an elderly sister, lived in a somewhat gloomy house on the outskirts of Westville.

There Jack had been for about a year, attending school in the meanwhile.

He had never liked Professor Klopper, for the aged man was crabbed and dictatorial, and very stern when it came to lessons. He made Jack study more than any other boy who went to the academy, and was continually examining him at home, on what he had learned in school. This, undoubtedly, was good for Jack’s scholarship, but the boy did not like it.

Mr. Allen had arranged that the professor should have complete charge of Jack, and a goodly sum had been left with the scientist for the keep of the boy.

“Give him a little spending money,” Mr. Allen had said to the professor, “and see that he does not waste it.”

The trouble was that the mathematical mind of the professor and the more liberal one of Jack’s father differed as to what a “little spending money” was, and what was meant by “wasting” it.

The consequence was that Jack led a very miserable life with the professor, but he was too manly a lad to complain, so his letters to his parents said nothing about the disagreeable side of his sojourn with the former college teacher.

But, of late, there had come no letters from Mr. and Mrs. Allen. Jack’s boyish epistles had not been replied to, and the professor’s long effusions, containing precise reports as to his ward’s progress, were not answered.

All trace of Mr. and Mrs. Allen was lost when they got to China, though up to now Jack had not worried about them, as he realized that mail in some foreign countries is not as certain as it is in the United States.

“Professor Klopper is the meanest old codger that ever lived!” exclaimed Jack, as he mounted the stairs to his room. “I wish dad and mother would come back. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them, and things are getting worse here instead of better. The idea of not giving me a dollar!

“All the fellows are saying sneering things about me, too,” he went on, “because I don’t treat oftener. How can I treat when I don’t get any money? I’ve a good notion to write to dad, and tell him about it. If I only knew his exact address I would, but I’ll have to ask old Klopper, and then he’ll catch on. No, I suppose I’ve got to stand it. But I wish I could see that show to-night. I wonder if I couldn’t raise the money somehow? I might borrow it—no, that wouldn’t do. I don’t know when I could pay it back. If I had something I could sell——”

He thought a moment, and then an idea came to him.

“My catching glove!” he exclaimed. “It’s a good one yet, and Tom Berwick will give me a dollar for it. If I play shortstop this summer I’ll not need it. I’ll sell that.”

Jack, who had been rather downhearted, felt better after he had reached this decision. He began rummaging in a closet that contained various articles, more or less intimately connected with boyish sports, and presently withdrew a large, padded catching glove.

“It cost seven dollars, just before dad went away,” he remarked. “It’s worth three now, but I’ll let Tom have it for a dollar. That will give me enough to go to the show and treat the crowd I owe sodas to. I’ll do it. I’ll go to the show, no matter what Klopper says. But I’ve got to sneak out, for if he sees me he’ll stop me. Most likely he’ll be reading in the library this evening.”

Jack knew his temporary guardian would not make him remain in his room without supper, for the professor was not needlessly cruel. As the June afternoon was drawing to a close, Miss Klopper, the professor’s sister, came to Jack’s door.

“Here is your supper,” she said, handing in a tray, none too well filled. “My brother says you are to remain in your room until to-morrow morning, when he hopes you will have repented. I hope you will, too. Boys are such perverse creatures.”

Jack said nothing. He took the tray, for he was very hungry. But he did not intend to remain in his room all that evening, when there was a vaudeville show in town.

“It won’t be the first time I’ve gotten out of the window,” thought Jack, when Miss Klopper had closed the door.

CHAPTER II
AT THE SHOW

Jack knew there was little fear of detection, for, on several other occasions, when he had been denied the privilege of going out on an evening, he had climbed from the window of his room, out on the roof of a low shed, and, by means of the lightning rod, to the ground. He intended doing it this time.

He finished his supper, and wished it had been larger. But he consoled himself with the reflection that he could fill the void in his stomach later with an ice cream soda.

“Now to get out,” said Jack, as he went to the door and listened, to see if the professor or his sister was about. He heard nothing.

It was a small matter for the boy to get out of the window. He had wrapped the big catching glove up in a paper, and he dropped it out of the casement, so that he might have both hands free with which to climb down.

“So far, so good,” he murmured, as he picked up the glove, and started down a rear path to get beyond the house, when he would strike out for the village. But, just as he thought he was safe, he heard some one moving on the other side of a large lilac bush, and, before he could get out of the way, he was confronted by Miss Klopper. She had been out to feed a late supper to a hen and some little chickens in the lower part of the garden.

“Does my brother know you have left your room?” asked the lady of the house.

“I don’t know,” replied Jack.

That was truthful enough, for Mr. Klopper had a habit of sneaking up to Jack’s room, to look through the keyhole, on such occasions as he sent the lad to his apartment for punishment, and the crabbed old man might, even now, have discovered the absence of his ward.

“Didn’t he tell you to stay in your room?” went on Miss Klopper.

“He did, but I don’t want to. It’s too nice out,” and Jack took in deep breaths of the air, laden with the sweet scent of roses.

“You must go back at once,” went on the spinster.

“I’m not going to,” replied Jack. “I’m going to have a good time for once in my life.”

“I shall tell my brother of your insubordinate conduct.”

“I don’t care,” fired back Jack, as he hurried on.

“What have you in that bundle?” demanded Miss Klopper, as she saw the package the youth carried.

“Something of my own.”

“I demand to know what it is!”

“And I’m not going to tell you. It’s mine, and I have a perfect right to do as I please with my own things. Suffering cats!” exclaimed Jack softly. “I wish dad and mom was home,” and, not caring to have any further discussion with Miss Klopper, he passed on, before she would have a chance to summon the professor.

Jack was a good boy at heart, and he never would do a mean act, but the professor and his sister had treated him so harshly, though perhaps they did not appreciate it, that his spirit rose in rebellion.

Life at the professor’s house was becoming intolerable for Jack. How he wished his parents would come home. Yet it seemed now, with no news arriving from them, that it would be several months more before he could hope to be released from the guardianship of Mr. Klopper.

Jack made all haste to the town, from which the professor’s house was distant about a mile. He wanted to find Tom, and dispose of the glove in time to see the show from the start. He knew Tom would buy the mitt, for he had often expressed a wish to purchase it, and Tom usually had plenty of spending money.

Passing through the village streets Jack met several boys he knew.

“Going to the show?” was the question nearly every one of them asked of him.

“Sure,” he replied, as though he had several dollars in his pockets, with which to buy tickets. “I’ll meet you there. Seen Tom Berwick?” he went on.

“Yep. He’s down in Newton’s drug store buying sodas.”

Jack turned his steps thither, and met Tom coming from the place. Tom was wiping his mouth in a suggestive manner.

“Why didn’t you see me a minute sooner?” he asked. “I’d have bought you a soda,” for Tom was a most generous lad.

“Wish you had,” replied Jack. “Say, Tom, want to buy my catching glove?”

“What’s the matter with it?” asked Tom quickly, for he had several times before offered to purchase the big mitt, only to be met with a refusal. “Ain’t it any good?”

“Sure, it’s good!”

“Then what you want to sell for?”

“Well, I’m going to play short this season, and I don’t need a catching glove. It’s a dandy. Look at it,” and Jack handed it to Tom, having taken off the paper wrapping when he was out of sight of the professor’s house.

“It’s all right,” acknowledged Tom, after a critical inspection. “How much?”

“Give me two dollars?”

Jack had his own ideas about finance.

“Go on. I will not.”

“It cost seven.”

“Yes; two seasons ago. I can get a new one for three dollars.”

“Not like that.”

“Well, maybe not, but good enough.”

“I’ll let you have it for a dollar and a half,” went on Jack. “That’s cheap enough.”

“Give you a dollar,” replied Tom quickly, who knew how to bargain.

“All right,” and Jack sighed a little. He had hoped to get enough to put aside some cash for future emergencies.

Tom passed over the dollar. Then he tried on the glove. It certainly was a good one.

“Come on in and I’ll treat you to a soda,” he proposed generously, for he decided that he had obtained a bargain, and could afford to treat.

“Going to the show?” asked Tom, as the two came out of the drug store.

“Sure. That’s what I sold the glove for.”

“What’s the matter? Don’t your dad send you any money?”

“Yes, he left some for me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get it from old Klopper. He wouldn’t give me even fifty cents to-night, and he sent me to my room. But I sneaked out, and I’m going to have some fun.”

“That’s the way to talk! He’s a regular hard-shell, ain’t he?”

“I should say yes! But come on, or maybe we won’t get a good seat.”

“Oh, I got my ticket,” replied Tom. “Besides, I want to take this glove home. I’ll see you there.”

Jack hastened to the town auditorium, where, occasionally, traveling theatrical shows played a one-night stand. There was quite a throng in front of the box office, and Jack was afraid he would not get a seat, but he managed to secure one well down in front.

The auditorium began to fill up rapidly. Jack saw many of his chums, and nodded to them. Then he began to study the program. An announcement on it caught his eye. It was to the effect that during the entertainment a chance would be given to any amateur performers in the audience to come upon the stage, and show what they could do in the way of singing, dancing or in other lines of public entertaining. Prizes would be given for the best act, it was stated; five dollars for the first, three for the second, and one for the third.

“Say,” Jack whispered to Tom, who came in just then, “going to try for any of those prizes?”

“Naw,” replied Tom, vigorously chewing gum. “I can’t do nothin’. Some of the fellows are, though. Arthur Little is going to recite, and Sam Parsons is going to do some contortions. Why, do you want to try?”

“I’d like to.”

“What can you do?”

“My clown act,” replied Tom. “I’ve got some new dancing steps, and maybe I could win a prize.”

“Sure you could,” replied Tom generously. “Go ahead. I’ll clap real loud for you.”

“Guess I will,” said Jack, breathing a little faster under the exciting thought of appearing on a real stage. He had often taken the part of a clown in shows the boys arranged among themselves, but this would be different.

“Ah, there goes the curtain!” exclaimed Tom, as the orchestra finished playing the introduction, and there was a murmur all over the auditorium, as the first number of the vaudeville performance started.

CHAPTER III
JACK IS PUNISHED

The show was a fairly good one, and Jack and the other boys, as well as older persons in the audience, enjoyed the various numbers, from the singing and dancing, to a one-act sketch.

More than one was anxious, however, for the time to come when the amateurs would be given a chance. At length the manager came before the curtain, and announced that those who wished might try their talents on the audience.

Several of the boys began to call for this or that chum, whom they knew could do some specialty.

“Give us that whistling stunt, Jimmy!” was one cry.

“Hey, Sim; here’s a chance to show how far you can jump!” cried another.

“Speak about the boy on the burning deck!” suggested a third.

“Now we must have quietness,” declared the manager. “Those who wish to perform may come up here, give me their names, and I will announce them in turn.”

Several lads started for the stage, Jack included. His chums called good-naturedly after him as he walked up the aisle.

“I might as well have all the fun I can to-night,” thought our hero. “When Professor Klopper finds out what I’ve done, if he hasn’t already, he’ll be as mad as two hornets.”

The boys, and one or two girls, who had stage aspirations, crowded around the manager, eager to give in their names.

“Now, one at a time, please,” advised the theatrical man. “You’ll each be given a chance. I may add,” he went on, turning to the audience, “that the prizes will be awarded by a popular vote, as manifested by applause. The performer getting the most applause will be considered to have won the five dollars, and so with the other two prizes.”

The amateurs began. Some of them did very well, while others only made laughing stocks of themselves. One of the girls did remarkably well in reciting a scene from Shakespeare.

At last it came Jack’s turn. He was a little nervous as he faced the footlights, and saw such a large crowd before him. A thousand eyes seemed focused on him. But he calmed himself with the thought that it was no worse than doing as he had often done when taking part in shows that he and his chums arranged.

While waiting for his turn Jack had made an appeal to the property man of the auditorium, whom he knew quite well. The man, on Jack’s request, had provided the lad with some white and red face paint, and Jack had hurriedly made up as much like a clown as possible, using one of the dressing-rooms back of the stage for this purpose. So, when it came his turn to go out, his appearance was greeted with a burst of applause. He was the first amateur to “make-up.”

Jack was, naturally, a rather droll lad, and he was quite nimble on his feet. He had once been much impressed by what a clown did in a small circus, and he had practiced on variations of that entertainer’s act, until he had a rather queer mixture of songs, jokes, nimble dancing and acrobatic steps.

This he now essayed, with such good effect that he soon had the audience laughing, and, once that is accomplished, the rest is comparatively easy for this class of work on the stage.

Jack did his best. He went through a lot of queer evolutions, leaped and danced as if his feet were on springs, and ended with an odd little verse and a backward summersault, which brought him considerable applause.

“Jack’ll get first prize,” remarked Tom Berwick to his chums, when they had done applauding their friend.

But he did not. The performer after him, a young lady, who had undoubted talent, by her manner of singing comic songs, to the accompaniment of the orchestra, was adjudged to have won first prize. Jack got second, and he was almost as well pleased, for the young lady, Miss Mab Fordworth, was quite a friend of his.

“Well,” thought Jack, as the manager handed him the three dollars, “here is where I have spending money for a week, anyhow. I won’t have to see the boys turning up their noses because I don’t treat.”

The amateur efforts closed the performance, and, after Jack had washed off the white and red paint, he joined his chums.

“Say, Jack,” remarked Tom, “I didn’t know you could do as well as that.”

“I didn’t, either,” replied Jack. “It was easy after I got my wind. But I was a bit frightened at first.”

“I’d like to be on the stage,” observed Tom, with something of a sigh. “But I can’t do anything except catch balls. I don’t s’pose that would take; would it?”

“It might,” replied Jack good-naturedly.

“Well, come on, let’s get some sodas,” proposed Tom. “It was hot in there. I’ll stand treat.”

“Seems to me you’re always standing treat,” spoke Jack, quickly. “I guess it’s my turn, fellows.”

“Jack’s spending some of his prize money,” remarked Charlie Andrews.

“It’s the first I have had to spend in quite a while,” was his answer. “Old Klopper holds me down as close as if he was a miser. I’ll be glad when my dad comes back.”

“Where is he now?” asked Tom.

“Somewhere in China. We can’t find out exactly. I’m getting a bit worried.”

“Oh, I guess he’s all right,” observed Charlie. “But if you’re going to stand treat, come on; I’m dry.”

The boys were soon enjoying the sodas, and Jack was glad that he had the chance to play host, for it galled him to have to accept the hospitality of his chums, and not do his share. Now, thanks to his abilities as a clown, he was able to repay the favors.

“Well, I suppose I might as well go in the front door as to crawl in the window,” thought Jack, as he neared the professor’s house. “He knows I’m out, for that old maid told him, and he’ll be waiting for me. I’m in for a lecture, and the sooner it’s over the better. Oh, dear, but I wish dad and mom were home!”

“Well, young man, give an account of yourself,” said the professor sharply, when Jack came in. Mr. Klopper could never forget that he had been a teacher, and a severe one at that. His manner always savored of the classroom, especially when about to administer a rebuke.

“I went to the show,” said Jack shortly. “I told you I was going.”

“In other words you defied and disobeyed me.”

“I felt that I had a right to go. I’m not a baby.”

“That is no excuse. I shall report your conduct to your parents. Now another matter. Where did you get the money to go with?”

“I—I got it.”

“Evidently; but I asked you where. The idea of wasting fifty cents for a silly show! Did you stop to realize that fifty cents would pay the interest on ten dollars for a year, at five per cent?”

“I didn’t stop to figure it out, professor.”

“Of course not. Nor did you stop to think that for fifty cents you might have bought some useful book. And you did not stop to consider that you were disobeying me. I shall attend to your case. Do you still refuse to tell me where you got that money?”

“I—I’d rather not.”

“Very well, I shall make some inquiries. You may retire now. I never make up my mind when I am the least bit angry, and I find myself somewhat displeased with you at this moment.”

“Displeased” was a mild way of putting it, Jack thought.

“I shall see you in the morning,” went on the professor. “It is Saturday, and there is no school. Remain in your room until I come up. I wish to have a serious talk with you.”

Jack had no relish for this. It would not be the first time the professor had had a “serious talk” with him, for, of late, the old teacher was getting more and more strict in his treatment of the boy. Jack was sure his father would not approve of the professor’s method. But Mr. Allen was far away, and his son was not likely to see him for some time.

But, in spite of what he knew was in store for him the next morning, Jack slept well, for he was a healthy youth.

“I suppose he’ll punish me in some way,” he said, as he arose, “but he won’t dare do very much, though he’s been pretty stiff of late.”

The professor was “pretty stiff” when he came to Jack’s room to remonstrate with his ward on what he had done. Jack never remembered such a lecture as he got that day. Then the former college instructor ended up with:

“And, as a punishment, you will keep to your room to-day and to-morrow. I forbid you to stir from it, and if I find you trying to sneak out, as you did last night, I shall take stringent measures to prevent you.”

The professor was a powerful man, and there was more than one story of the corporal punishment he had inflicted on rebellious students.

“But, professor,” said Jack. “I was going to have a practice game of baseball with the boys to-day. The season opens next week, and I’m playing in a new position. I’ll have to practice!”

“You will remain in your room all of to-day and to-morrow,” was all the reply the professor made, as he strode from Jack’s apartment.

CHAPTER IV
DISQUIETING NEWS

“Well, if this ain’t the meanest thing he’s done to me yet!” exclaimed Jack, as the door closed on the retreating form of his crusty guardian. “This is the limit! The boys expect me to the ball game, and I can’t get there. That means they’ll put somebody else in my place, and maybe I’ll have to be a substitute for the rest of the season. I’ve a good notion——”

But so many daring thoughts came into Jack’s mind that he did not know which one to give utterance to first.

“I’ll not stand it,” he declared. “He hasn’t any right to punish me like this, for what I did. He had no right to keep me in. I’ll get out the same way I did before.”

Jack looked from the window of his room. Below it, seated on a bench, in the shade of a tree, was the professor, reading a large book.

“That way’s blocked,” remarked the boy. “He’ll stay there all day, working out problems about how much a dollar will amount to if put out at interest for a thousand years, or else figuring how long it will take a man to get to Mars if he traveled at the rate of a thousand miles a minute, though what in the world good such knowledge is I can’t see.

“But I can’t get out while he’s on guard, for he wouldn’t hesitate to wallop me. And when he comes in to breakfast his sister will relieve him. I am certainly up against it!

“Hold on, though! Maybe he forgot to bolt the door!”

It was a vain hope. Though Jack had not heard him do it, the professor had softly slid the bolt across as he went out of the boy’s room, and our hero was practically a prisoner in his own apartment.

And this on a beautiful Saturday, when there was no school and when the first practice baseball game of the season was to be played. Is it any wonder that Jack was indignant?

“It’s about time they brought me something to eat,” he thought, as he heard a clock somewhere in the house strike nine. “I’m getting hungry.”

He had little fear on the score that the professor would starve him, for the old college instructor was not quite as mean as that, and, in a short time, Miss Klopper appeared with a tray containing Jack’s breakfast.

“I should think you would be ashamed of yourself,” she said. “The idea of repaying my brother’s kindness by such acts! You are a wicked boy!”

Jack wondered where any special kindness on the part of the professor came in, but he did not say anything to the old maid whose temper was even more sour than her brother’s. Since his parents had left him with the professor, Jack had never been treated with real kindness. Perhaps Mr. Klopper did not intend to be mean, but he was such a deep student that all who did not devote most of their time to study and research earned his profound contempt. While Jack was a good boy, and a fairly good student, he liked sports and fun, and these the professor detested. So, when he found that his ward did not intend to apply himself closely to his books, Professor Klopper began “putting the screws on,” as Jack termed it.

Matters had gone from bad to worse, until the boy was now in a really desperate state. His naturally good temper had been spoiled by a series of petty fault-findings, and he had been so hedged about by the professor and his sister that he was ripe for almost anything.

All that day he remained in his room, becoming more and more angry at his imprisonment as the hours passed.

“The boys are on the diamond now,” he said, as he heard a clock strike three. “They’re practicing, and soon the game will start. Gee, but I wish I was there! But it’s no use.”

Another try at the door, and a look out of his window convinced him of this. The professor was still on guard, reading his big book.

Toward dusk the professor went in, as he could see no longer. But, by that time Jack had lost all desire to escape. He resolved to go to bed, to make the time pass more quickly, though he knew he had another day of imprisonment before him. Sunday was the occasion for long rambles in the woods and fields with his chums, but he knew he would have to forego that pleasure now. He almost hoped it would rain.

As he was undressing there came a hurried knock on his door.

“What is it?” he asked.

“My brother wants to see you at once, in his study,” said Miss Klopper.

“Oh, dear,” thought Jack. “Here’s for another lecture.”

There was no choice but to obey, however, for Mr. Allen in his last injunction to his son, had urged him to give every heed to his guardian’s requests.

He found the professor in his study, with open books piled all about on a table before which he sat. In his hand Mr. Klopper held a white slip of paper.

“Jack,” he said, more kindly than he had spoken since the trouble between them, “I have here a telegram concerning your father and mother.”

“Is it—is it bad news?” asked the boy quickly, for something in the professor’s tone and manner indicated it.

“Well, I—er—I’m sorry to say it is not good news. It is rather disquieting. You remember I told you I cabled to the United States Consul in Hong Kong concerning your parents, when several days went by without either of us hearing from them.”

“What does he say?”

“His cablegram states that your parents went on an excursion outside of Hong Kong about two weeks ago, and no word has been received from them since.”

“Are they—are they killed?”

“No; I do not think so. The consul adds that as there have been disturbances in China, it is very likely that Mr. and Mrs. Allen, together with some other Americans, have been detained in a friendly province, until the trouble is over. I thought you had better know this.”

“Do you suppose there is any danger?”

“I do not think so. There is no use worrying, though I was a little anxious when I had no word from them. We will hope for the best. I will cable the consul to send me word as soon as he has any additional news.”

“Poor mother!” said Jack. “She’s nervous, and if she gets frightened it may have a bad effect on her heart.”

“Um,” remarked the professor. He had little sympathy for ailing women. “In view of this news I have decided to mitigate your punishment,” he added to Jack. “You may consider yourself at liberty to-morrow, though I shall expect you to spend at least three hours in reading some good and helpful book. I will pick one out for you. It is well to train our minds to deep reading, for there is so much of the frivolous in life now-a-days, that the young are very likely to form improper thinking habits. I would recommend that you spend an hour before you retire to-night, in improving yourself in Latin. Your conjugation of verbs was very weak the last time I examined you.”

“I—I don’t think I could study to-night,” said Jack, who felt quite miserable with his enforced detention in the house, and the unpleasant news concerning his parents. “I’d be thinking so much about my father and mother that I couldn’t keep my attention on the verbs,” he said.

“That indicates a weak intellect,” returned the professor. “You should labor to overcome it. However, perhaps it would be useless to have you do any Latin to-night. But I must insist on you improving in your studies. Your last report from the academy was very poor.”

Jack did not answer. With a heavy heart he went to his room, where he sat for some time in the dark, thinking of his parents in far-off China.

“I wish I could go and find them,” he said. “Maybe they need help. I wonder if the professor’d let me go?”

But, even as that idea came to him, he knew it would be useless to propose it to Mr. Klopper.

“He’s got enough of money that dad left for my keep, to pay my passage,” the boy mused on. “But if I asked for some for a steamship ticket he’d begin to figure what the interest on it for a hundred years would be, and then he’d lecture me about being a spendthrift. No, I’ll have to let it go, though I do wish I could make a trip abroad. If I could only earn money enough, some way, I’d go to China and find dad and mom.”

But even disquieting and sad thoughts can not long keep awake a healthy lad, and soon Jack was slumbering. He was up early the next morning, and, as usual, accompanied the professor to church.

The best part of the afternoon he was forced to spend in reading a book on what boys ought to do, written by an old man who, if ever he was a healthy, sport-loving lad, must have been one so many years ago that he forgot that he ever liked to have fun once in a while.

Jack was glad when night came, so he could go to bed again.

“To-morrow I’ll see the boys,” he thought to himself. “They’ll want to know why I didn’t come to play ball, and I’ll have to tell them the real reason. I’m getting so I hate Professor Klopper!”

If Jack had known what was to happen the next day, he probably would not have slept so soundly.

CHAPTER V
A SERIOUS ACCUSATION

“Hey, Jack, where were you Saturday?” asked Tom Berwick, as our hero came into the school yard Monday morning. “We had a dandy game,” he went on. “Your catching glove is nifty!”

“Yes, Fred Walton played short,” added Sam Morton. “We waited as long as we could for you. What was the matter?”

“The professor made me stay home because I skipped out the night before to go to the show.”

“Say, he’s a mean old codger,” was Tom’s opinion, which was echoed by several other lads.

“Is Fred going to play shortstop regularly?” asked Jack, of Tom Berwick, who was captain of the Academy nine.

“I don’t know. He wants to, but I’d like to have you play there, Jack. Still, if you can’t come Saturdays——”

“Oh, I’ll come next Saturday all right. Can’t we have a little practice this afternoon?”

“Sure. You can play then, if you want to. Fred has to go away, he said.”

The boys had a lively impromptu contest on the diamond when school closed that afternoon, and Jack proved himself an efficient player at shortstop. It was getting dusk when he reached the professor’s house, and the doughty old college instructor was waiting for him.

“Did I not tell you to come home early, in order that I might test you in algebra?” he asked Jack.

“Yes, sir. But I forgot about it,” which was the truth for, in the excitement over the game, Jack had no mind for anything but baseball.

“Where were you?” went on Mr. Klopper.

“Playing ball.”

“Playing ball! An idle, frivolous amusement. It tends to no good, and does positive harm. I have no sympathy with that game. It gives no time for reflection. I once watched a game at the college where I used to teach. I saw several men standing at quite some distance from the bare spot where one man was throwing a ball at another, with a stick in his hand.”

“That was the diamond,” volunteered Jack, hoping the professor might get interested in hearing about the game, and so forego the lecture that was in prospect.

“Ah, a very inappropriate name. Such an utterly valueless game should not be designated by any such expensive stone as a diamond. But what I was going to say was that I saw some of the players standing quite some distance from the bare spot——”

“They were in the outfield, professor. Right field, left field and centre.”

“One moment; I care nothing about the names of the contestants. I was about to remark that those distant players seemed to have little to do with the game. They might, most profitably have had a book with them, to study while they were standing there, but they did not. Instead they remained idle—wasting their time.”

“But they might have had to catch a ball any moment.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed the professor. “It is an idle frivolous amusement, and I regret very much that you wasted your valuable time over it. After supper I want to hear you read some Virgil, and also do some problems in geometry. I was instructed by your father to see that your education was not neglected, and I must do my duty, no matter how disagreeable it is.”

Jack sighed. He had studied hard in class that day, and now to be made to put in the evening over his books he thought was very unfair.

But there was no escape from the professor, and the boy had to put in two hours at his Latin and mathematics, which studies, though they undoubtedly did him good, were very distasteful to him.

“You are making scarcely any progress,” said the professor, when Jack had failed to properly answer several of his questions. “I want you to come home early from school to-morrow afternoon, and I will give you my undivided attention until bedtime. I am determined that you shall learn.”

Jack said nothing, but he did not think it would be wise to go off playing ball the next afternoon, though the boys urged him strongly.

“Why don’t you write and tell your dad how mean old Klopper is treating you?” suggested Tom, when Jack explained the reason for going straight home from his classes.

“I would if I knew how to reach him. But I don’t know where he is,” and Jack sighed, for he was becoming more and more alarmed at the long delay in hearing from his father.

But Jack was destined to do no studying that afternoon under the watchful eye of Professor Klopper. He had no sooner entered the house than he was made aware that something unusual had happened.

“My brother is waiting for you in the library,” said Miss Klopper, and Jack noticed that she was excited over something.

“Maybe it’s bad news about the folks,” the boy thought, but when he saw that the professor had no cablegram, he decided it could not be that.

“Jack,” began the aged teacher, “I have a very serious matter to speak about.”

“I wonder what’s coming now?” thought the boy.

“Do you recall the night you disobeyed me, and, sneaking out of your window like a thief, you went to a—er—a theatrical performance without my permission?” asked the professor.

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, wondering if his guardian thought he was likely to forget it so soon.

“Do you also recollect me asking you where you got the money wherewith to go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I now, once more, demand that you tell me where you obtained it, and, let me warn you that it is serious. I insist that you answer me. Where did you get that money?”

“I—I don’t want to tell you, Professor Klopper.”

“Are you afraid?”