Edward Stratemeyer - Dave Porter and the Runaways - or, Last Days at Oak Hall

“No, I won’t stand it, I tell you,” cried Phil, stubbornly. “He can’t make a pack-mule of me.”

“Well, then, speak to the doctor about it,” advised Roger.

“I don’t have to speak to the doctor,” stormed Phil; and walking over to a rack, he caught up his cap and marched from the room.

“He is certainly in a bad humor,” was Dave’s comment. “I am afraid he’ll put his foot into it, Roger.”

“So am I. He’s been aching to get back at old Haskers ever since he put all this studying up to us.”

“Do you know, Ben is just as angry at Haskers as Phil is?” went on our hero, after a pause, during which both had hoped that their close chum would return. But Phil had stalked down the stairs and out of the building.

“Ben?”

“Yes, so he told me this noon.”

“What about?”

“Oh, Ben talked in class and old Haskers penalized him heavily – gave him a lot of extra Latin to do. It nearly broke Ben up.”

“You told Ben about that Breen affair, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe he and Phil will both go to Haskers about it.”

“I hope not, Roger. I don’t think it is just the right thing to do – to use that as a club over Haskers to get him to let us off. I don’t like that kind of dealing.”

“Neither do I. But it’s just what such a mean-spirited fellow as Haskers deserves. He has never treated us squarely since we came here. I think this school would be a good deal better off without him, even if he is well educated.”

Dave heaved a deep sigh. He was on the point of replying, but changed his mind. He took up his book again, and soon was trying his best to study. Roger followed his example.

But both boys made slow progress. Each was thinking about Phil. What would be the outcome of their headstrong chum’s actions?

So far Dave and Nat Poole had not met face to face. Our hero had seen the money-lender’s son a number of times, but Nat had always been with some of his cronies and had, apparently, not taken any notice.

But on the morning following the conversation just recorded, the pair came face to face in one of the narrow hallways.

“Good-morning, Nat,” said Dave, pleasantly.

“Morning,” grumbled the other student. He was about to pass Dave, but suddenly changed his mind. “So you got back, eh?”

“Yes, I’ve been back several days.”

“I heard that Link Merwell got away from you?”

“That is true.”

“Humph! If I had the chance to nab him that you had, I’d not let him get away.”

“We held Jasniff.”

“Maybe you let Merwell go on purpose,” continued the money-lender’s son, shrewdly.

“Not at all, Nat. He gave us the slip, clean and clear.”

“Humph!” Nat paused for a moment. “I got word from my dad that you almost smashed him up on the road with your auto.”

“Hardly as bad as that.”

“He is going to make your uncle pay for the damage done.”

“It wasn’t much.”

“It was enough. You want to be more careful with your car after this. You auto fellows seem to think you own the whole road.”

“What about your motor-boat, Nat?” asked Dave. He remembered how the money-lender’s son had played more than one mean trick while running the craft.

“Oh, my boat is all right, Dave Porter!” sniffed Nat; and then he moved on, with a scowl on his face.

“The same old Nat,” soliloquized our hero. “Too bad that he can’t make himself a bit more agreeable.”

That day was a particularly trying one in the classroom. The lessons were unusually hard, and Dave had all he could do to pass, especially in those studies presided over by Professor Haskers. Roger made one miss in his Latin and poor Phil made several, while Ben Basswood’s recitation was a complete failure.

As was usual with him, Job Haskers was exceedingly dictatorial, and said some cutting things that brought the blood to Dave’s face.

“You must do much better than this, Porter and Morr,” said the professor. “Otherwise I shall have to place you in the next lower class. You, Lawrence and Basswood, have failed so utterly that I will have to take your cases under immediate consideration. The class is dismissed.”

“The old bear!” growled Ben, under his breath.

He looked inquiringly at Phil, and the latter nodded knowingly.

Dave did not know what to do. He did not wish Phil and Ben to get into further trouble, yet he did not know how to interfere. Besides, he was suffering himself and hardly knew what to do on his own account.

“This is the worst yet,” cried Roger, as he and our hero came out of the classroom side by side.

“There go Phil and Ben,” returned Dave. “Roger, they have got some plan up their sleeve.”

“I believe you, Dave. I wish I knew what to do. Shall we go to Doctor Clay?”

“I’ve been thinking of that, Roger. But I hate to do it. I’d rather fight my own battles.”

“So would I.”

“Let us wait until to-morrow and see if things don’t take a turn for the better.”

“All right, just as you say. But it’s a shame, the way old Haskers treats us,” grumbled the senator’s son.

In the meantime Phil and Ben had gone on ahead. Both were exceeding angry and consequently not in a frame of mind to use their best judgment.

“It’s an outrage!” burst out the shipowner’s son. “An outrage, Ben! I am not going to stand for it!”

“Well, I am with you, Phil,” returned Ben. “But what can we do?”

“You know what I spoke about last evening?”

“Yes.”

“How about doing that?”

“I am with you, if you are game.”

“Of course we may make old Haskers tearing mad.”

“We’ll only face him with the truth, won’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Then, let us do it. And the sooner the better.”

“Yes, but we must see him alone.”

“Of course. I think we can manage it just before supper – when he goes up to his room to fix up for the evening.”

The two chums talked the affair over for a long time.

“I don’t suppose Dave will like this,” ventured Ben, presently. “What do you think?”

“He isn’t hit as hard as we are,” answered Phil, lamely. “If he was – well, he might look at things in a different light.”

“That’s so,” answered Ben. But deep down in his heart he was afraid that our hero would not altogether approve of what he and Phil proposed to do.

The boys took a walk, and purposely kept out of the way of Dave and Roger. They did not return to the Hall until fifteen minutes before the first bell for supper. Then they came in by a side entrance and passed swiftly up the stairs and along the hallway to the room occupied by Job Haskers.

“Who is it?” asked the teacher, sharply, when Phil had knocked.

“Mr. Haskers, it is Phil Lawrence,” was the reply. “Ben Basswood is with me. We wish to see you.”

“Ah, indeed!” said the teacher, coldly. “You come to me at an unusual hour. You may see me to-morrow, before class.”

“Mr. Haskers, we wish very much to see you now,” put in Ben.

“We have got to see you,” added Phil, warmly.

There was no immediate reply to this. The boys heard Job Haskers moving around the room and heard him shut a bureau. Then the door was flung open.

“You insist upon seeing me, eh?” demanded the professor, harshly.

“We do, Mr. Haskers,” returned Phil, boldly.

“Very well, young gentlemen; step in.” And Job Haskers glared at the boys as he stood aside for them to enter.

“We came to see you, sir, about those Latin lessons,” went on Phil, finding it just then difficult to speak. He realized that Job Haskers was in no humor for being lenient.