Chapter VII: Bruce Is Worried

“Nice, pleasant sort of a chap for a professor--not!” exclaimed Jack, as he and Tom went a more roundabout, and public, way to the river.

“He certainly is grouchy,” agreed our hero. “Who’d think he’d rile up just because we cut through his back yard? He may take it out of us in class.”

“Shouldn’t wonder. His kind usually does.”

“Did you see who was with him?” asked Tom.

“I saw a fellow, but no one I knew.”

“That was Bruce Bennington, the Senior I was telling you about.”

“The one you said had some trouble?”

“Yes, and to judge by his looks he has it yet. I wonder what he was doing with old Skeel?”

“Maybe explaining why he hadn’t been to lectures before this.”

“No, I understand the Senior class doesn’t have to report as punctually as we poor dubs of Freshmen. It must be something else.”

“Well, we have our own troubles, Tom. Don’t go to looking for those of other fellows.”

“I won’t, Jack, only I’d like to help Bennington if I could.”

“So would I. Look, there are some boats we might hire,” and Tom pointed to a small structure on the edge of the river, where several boats were tied. A number of students from Elmwood Hall were gathered about, and some were out in the rowing craft.

Tom and Jack learned that the man in charge kept boats for hire, and the two chums were soon out in one, pulling up the river so, as Tom explained, they would have it easier coming back with the current.

“There goes the Senior shell!” exclaimed Jack, as from the college boathouse the long, slender craft was rowed out, looking not unlike some big bug, with long, slender legs. “They’re practicing for the race, I guess.”

“I wish I was with them,” remarked Tom. “I’m going to try for the Freshman crew.”

“And I’m with you.”

The two rowed on, and soon found a quiet, shady nook, where the trees overhung the river. There they tied their boat, and talked in the shadows.

Coming back they again saw the Senior shell, the lads in it rowing more slowly, for they were tired after their practice sprint. Turning in their hired boat, Tom and Jack went to the college crew’s headquarters, and there Tom, on making cautious inquiries, learned to his regret that there would be no Freshman crew organized that fall.

“You see,” explained Reddy Burke to the two lads, who were much interested in water sports, “our rowing season is in the spring. This is only a little supplementary race the head crew is going to row with Burkhardt college, which is five miles down stream. We beat them in the spring, but they asked for another meet, and we gave it to them.

“But rowing is practically over for this year, so I guess there’s no chance for you to get in a shell. Try in the spring, if you want to.”

“We will,” decided Tom.

“Meanwhile you’d better be thinking of football,” advised Reddy. “Candidates for the team as well as for the class elevens will soon be called for.”

“That hits us!” exclaimed Jack. “I’m going to train hard. Do you think our crew will win.”

“Sure,” declared Reddy, and I might add here that when the auxiliary race was rowed, two weeks later, Elmwood did win easily over her rival.

“Bennington is here,” remarked Tom, as with Jack he walked toward the campus with Reddy.

“Is that so? It’s about time he blew in. Where did you see him?”

Tom explained, telling of the peremptory manner in which Professor Skeel had ordered them from his lawn.

“Oh, you mustn’t mind that,” advised Reddy. “He certainly is getting worse every term. I don’t see why Dr. Meredith keeps him. He’s the worst one of the faculty, and if he doesn’t look out he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“Well, what shall we do this evening?” asked Jack, as he and his chum were in their room after supper. “I’ve done with my boning.”

“So have I. What do you say to a lark? Let’s run the guard and go to town.”

“I’m with you. Let’s get some of the other fellows,” proposed Jack. “Bert Wilson will come, and so will George Abbot, I guess, if he can stop asking questions long enough.”

“Sure we’ll go,” declared Bert, when the chums made the proposal to him.

“But what will we do when we get there?” George wanted to know.

“Oh. Why, we’ll stand on our heads!” exclaimed Tom with a laugh.

“All of us?” demanded the inquisitive lad.

“No, only you,” retorted Jack. “For cats’ sake, cut out some of those questions; will you? We’ll call you Interrogation Mark if you don’t look out, only it’s too much of a mouthful to speak in a hurry. Cut along now, before we’re caught.”

It was dark enough to elude a possible spying monitor, or one of the proctor’s emissaries, and soon the four lads were on their way to town. They went to a moving picture show, enjoying it greatly.

“Now if we can get in without being seen, we’ll be all right,” remarked Tom, when they had neared the college on the return trip.

“Pshaw, I shouldn’t much mind getting caught,” declared Jack. “It would be fun.”

“Doing double boning, or being kept in bounds for a week wouldn’t though,” declared Tom with conviction. “I vote we don’t get caught, if we can help it.”

“Maybe we can’t,” suggested Bert.

“Why not?” George wanted to know.

“Oh, ask us something easier,” laughed Tom. “Come on now, and don’t make too much noise.”

They were about to cross the campus, and make for their dormitory, when there was a movement behind a clump of shrubbery, and a figure was seen to emerge.

“There’s some one!” whispered Bert.

“Caught!” murmured Tom.

“I wonder who it is?” came from George.

“It’s Bruce Bennington, the Senior,” came from Tom. “We are safe.”

“You won’t be if you continue on this way,” came grimly from Bruce. “One of the proctor’s scouts is out to-night, just laying for innocent Freshies. You’d better cut around the side, and go in the back basement door. It’s generally open, or if it isn’t I’ve got a key that will do the trick.”

“You know the ropes,” laughed Tom.

“I ought to. I was a Freshman once. Come on, I’ll show you the way, but don’t work the trick too often.”

Bruce walked up to Tom, and remarked:

“Oh, it’s you, is it, Fairfield. Glad to see you again. I didn’t recognize you in the darkness. I just got in to-day.”

“Yes, I saw you,” remarked our hero as he introduced his chums.

Bruce continued to walk on beside Tom, the others following. The Senior led the way along a little-used path, well screened by trees from spying eyes.

“Won’t you get caught yourself?” Tom wanted to know.

“No, we lordly Seniors are allowed a few more privileges than you luckless squabs. Though I shouldn’t much mind if I was nabbed. It would be like old times,” and Tom detected a sigh in the words. Clearly Bruce was still worrying.

“I saw you in Professor Skeel’s summer house this afternoon,” went on Tom.

“Oh, so you were the lads he warned away! Yes, Skeel is a--well I guess I’d better not say anything,” spoke Bruce quickly. “It might not be altogether healthy.”

“For you?” asked Tom.

“Yes. I’m under some obligations to him, and--well, I don’t like to talk about it,” he finished.

“Then you haven’t gotten over your trouble?” asked Tom sympathetically.

“No, it’s worse than ever. Oh, hang it all, what a chump I’ve been!” exclaimed Bruce. “This thing is worrying the life out of me!”

“Why can’t some of your friends help you?” asked Tom. “If I could----”

“No, thank you, Fairfield, no one can do anything but myself, and I can’t, just now. It may come out all right in the end. Don’t say anything about it. Here we are. Now to see if the door’s open.”

Letting Bruce lead the way, the other lads cautiously followed. They saw him about to try the knob of the basement portal, when suddenly Tom became aware of a light flickering through a side window.

“Hist!” he signalled to Bruce. “Someone’s coming!”

“All right. You fellows lay low, and I’ll take a look,” volunteered their guide. “I don’t mind being caught.”

“He’s got nerve,” said Jack, admiringly, as he and his chums crouched down in the darkness.

Tom and the others saw Bruce boldly look in the window through which the light shone.