Chapter XXIII: Tom’s Find

For a moment the Freshmen paused in their wild dancing about the pole, from which hung suspended the burning effigy. And then, as they saw the indignant figure of the disliked professor, and as they heard his demand, they broke out into a further storm of hisses that sounded above the blast of the wintry wind.

“Stop it! Stop it at once! Take down that disgraceful image!” demanded Professor Skeel. In spite of the crude way in which it had been made he--and others as well--could easily recognize that it was intended for him, by the hat. “Take it down!” he shouted.

“Never!” came the defiant cry from the Freshmen. They were not so cold now, but they were hungry and tired, and they saw in Professor Skeel the individual who, they believed, was responsible for their troubles.

“Three hisses for the professor!” called someone, and again they were given with vigor.

“Take it down! Take it down!” fairly screamed the enraged instructor. He looked around. The whole school was witnessing the spectacle of disgrace that had been arranged for his benefit. Every student was present, arranged in a big circle about the jubilant Freshmen, and most of the faculty had come to the doors of their residences to look on.

“I demand that this outrage cease at once!” cried Professor Skeel, but no move was made to heed his request. In fact, the Freshman only cheered themselves, and hissed him the louder.

Professor Skeel could stand no more. With glaring eyes he made a rush for the crowd of students, darting through the storm that still raged.

“Look out! Here he comes!” warned Jack to Tom.

“All right. I’m ready for him,” was the quiet answer. “But I don’t believe he’ll do anything more than try to pull down the image.”

“Will you let him?”

“I think not. Still I don’t want to get into a personal encounter with a teacher. Let’s form a ring around the pole, and prevent him from touching the ropes. The effigy will soon be burned out, anyhow.” The flames were eating the image slowly, as the cloth and straw was moist, and the snow flakes further dampened them.

“That’s a good idea!” commented Jack. “Hi, fellows, no surrender. We must protect our effigy!”

“That’s what!” came the rallying chorus, and under Tom’s direction the lads formed a cordon about the pole.

Professor Skeel was speeding through the drifts. He reached the nearest lads, and roughly thrust them aside. Tom had quickly whispered to those nearest the pole not to fight back, but to offer passive resistance. So, too, those on the outer edge did not make any hostile movement when the irate instructor went through them with a rush.

“Get away from that pole! Let me take that disgraceful image down! I shall insist upon the most severe punishment to every one concerned in this outrage!” stormed Professor Skeel.

“Stick to your posts!” cried Tom.

“As for you, Fairfield!” shouted the professor. “This will be your last appearance here! You incited the students to do this!”

“Correct guess!” whispered Jack with a grin.

Professor Skeel did not find it as easy as he had thought, to thrust the lads away from the pole, so that he might loose the ropes. As fast as he shoved one lad aside, in which operation no active resistance was offered, another Freshman took his place, and there was a constant shifting and whirling mass of students about the pole. It was utterly impossible for the professor to get to the ropes.

“This must stop! It shall stop!” he cried. “I--I shall be under the necessity of personally chastising you if you do not at once remove the image!” he added.

“Stick, boys!” sung out Tom.

“Then take the consequences,” shouted the instructor. He struck one of the smaller lads, who drew back his fist. In another moment there would have been presented the not very edifying sight of an encounter between teacher and pupil.

But Professor Skeel found himself suddenly clasped from behind, while Tom, worming his way to the side of the lad who had been hit, caught his upraised arm.

“It’s all right, Henry,” he called in his ear. “It’s all over I guess. Hammond has hold of Skeel.”

This was true. The big fat, jolly professor, seeing how matters were likely to turn out, had made his way into the throng, and had seized his colleague.

“You had better come with me,” he advised, quietly. “You are forgetting yourself, Professor Skeel. You can do no good here. The boys are past reasoning with.”

“I shall not go until they have taken down that disgraceful effigy of me.”

“It will soon burn down. Besides, Doctor Meredith is coming out to speak to them. I have sent for him. You had better come with me.”

Much against his will, Professor Skeel allowed himself to be led away. The boys had stopped hissing and cheering now, for they saw that the crisis had come, and that they were either to win their strike, or that some unusual measures would be taken.

“Here comes Merry!” exclaimed Jack in a hoarse whisper, as he descried the form of the venerable head of the school making his way through the storm. The burning effigy still gave light enough to see, reflected as it was by the snow on the ground and the swirling flakes in the air.

Professor Skeel left with Professor Hammond, and, as they passed the outer ring of Freshman, there came a cry:

“Three cheers for Professor Hammond!”

They were given with the “Tiger!” at the end.

Doctor Meredith made his way to where he could command a view of the class that had revolted.

“Young gentlemen!” he began in a mild voice.

“Three cheers for the Doctor!” were called for and given.

“Young gentlemen,” he went on, with a benevolent smile, “you will kindly cease this demonstration, and return to your dormitory.”

“Does that mean we win?” asked Tom respectfully. “We went on strike for better treatment in the Latin class. If we go back, and call the strike off, do we get it?”

“That’s what we want to know,” added Jack Fitch.

“And we want something to eat, too,” spoke Bert Wilson.

“You will return to your dormitory,” went on Doctor Meredith in an even voice. “This must go on no longer.”

“But what about the Latin class?” asked Tom persistently. “Are we to be prisoners? Aren’t we to be allowed to recite, or attend lectures?”

“I will settle all that tomorrow,” said the doctor. “I may state, however, that you will recite, if you do at all to-morrow, to another Latin instructor.”

“Hurray! That’s what we want to know!” yelled Tom. “Come on, boys!” he added. “Back to bed. The strike is over!”

“I don’t see how,” said Jack. “He hasn’t said that Skeel will be any different.”

“Aw, can’t you see through a hole in a millstone?” asked Tom. “Can’t you see that Skeel isn’t going to be our teacher any more?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that there’s going to be a shift. No more of Skeel’s Latin for us. The doctor has seen that it won’t do, and he’s put his foot down. Skeel can’t dictate to him any more. The strike is over--we’ve won, and it will be admitted to-morrow. Come on to bed.”

“But about the eats?” suggested Bert. “I’m half starved. What about the eats?”

“Young gentlemen!” spoke Doctor Meredith again.

Instantly there was silence.

“Young gentlemen, you will return to your dormitory. But you may first stop in the dining hall.”

“For bread and water?” asked some one.

“For--er--for your usual hot supper,” said the doctor, with a smile.

“Hurray!” yelled Tom. “The strike is sure over! We win!”

The last flickering embers of the burning effigy died out and the scene was almost dark. Doctor Meredith returned to his house. The other students turned back into their dormitories. The Freshmen made a break from around the flag staff and ran toward the place where a much-needed supper awaited them.

As Tom, with Jack at his side, hurried across the spot where Professor Skeel had struck the Freshman, our hero saw something black lying on the snow. He stopped and picked it up.

“Someone’s pocketbook,” he remarked. “I’ll look inside for a name, and return it. Oh, Jack, we win!”

“And we’re going to eat!” added Jack with a sigh of satisfaction. As they entered the dining hall they saw Sam Heller there. He had sneaked back when the others were escaping and had practically surrendered. He was hissed when this became known.