Academy Boys in Camp, Page 2

  *CHAPTER II.*

  *A COSTLY "YES."*

  It was near the close of the summer term, the end of the school-year,and the boys were looking forward with brightest anticipations towardsthe camping season. Provided their school reports had averaged wellthroughout the year, the boys were given a fortnight of camp-life beforescattering to their several homes.

  Sometimes they had gone to the mountains with their tents andaccoutrements for hunting and fishing; sometimes to Lake Myrtle; andlast year they had explored Barrimore river from the mouth to thesource.

  This year Mr. Bernard had obtained permission to take his boys out toWhaleback, an island containing about a hundred acres, uninhabited saveby the family of the lighthouse-keeper.

  There they would be "monarchs of all they surveyed," and no one would bedisturbed by their noise--consequently no one to complain of "thosedreadful boys."

  This excursion was the great treat of the year for the Academy boys, andthrough the spring months it was the favourite theme for conversation.

  Some ten or fifteen of the boys had forfeited their right to join theexcursion by bad conduct or incorrigible laziness with lessons; butthose who had reason to expect to go were already collecting and puttingin order fishing-tackle, guns, bows and arrows, and all the things thatboys consider essential to camp-life.

  The rifle barrels were polished till they shone like steel mirrors; andunder the careful supervision of one of the teachers, the ownerspractised with them two or three times a week.

  The archery club had their targets set in the playground, and were indaily practice, the members considering themselves rivals of the rifleclub.

  Joe Chester was one of the most eager of all for the fun of camp-life,and he, with some four or five other boys, had ordered a boat to be sentto the landing where they were to take the steamer for the island.

  Two or three other boats had also been engaged for the use of thescholars--row-boats; for Mr. Bernard absolutely declined theresponsibility of sail-boats, even for those who were accustomed tomanage them.

  During the forenoon following the summary dismissal of school, the boyswere anxiously discussing the probable effect of this mischief upontheir vacation trip; and, after all, their conjectures ended in a returnto the same question, "Who can the mean fellow be who made all thistrouble?"

  In the midst of the discussion the great bell sounded, and the boysreturned to the school-room.

  There were no laggards now; every boy was in his seat before thedesk-bell had been struck.

  Mr. Bernard stood in the desk with his hand on the open ledger, whilethe other teachers were seated near by.

  The room was so still that a pin dropped would have sounded loud, andthe boys almost held their breath while they waited for Mr. Bernard tospeak.

  He was evidently in no haste; lessons could wait. After a silence thatseemed very long to the boys, he began to speak.

  It was a short, sharp lecture upon the meanness of falsehood and alldeceit, without a word in regard to the original trouble--the mutilationof the books.

  I think it doubtful if a lecturer ever before had so attentive andawe-struck an audience. At the close he said, "Boys, I will call theroll once more. Let each answer on his honour--if he have anyhonour--whether he mutilated the books of the class in 'Anabasis.'"

  Again from the beginning to the end of the roll the names were called,and again every voice unhesitatingly answered, "No."

  Joe Chester's face was crimson; he dared not look up.

  Some of his school-mates noticed his confusion, and whispered to theirneighbours, "Look at little Joe! Do you suppose he did it after all?"

  "Is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Bernard in a despairing tone. "Have Ibeen harbouring a liar among my boys all the year?"

  With a sigh he opened the book again, and said, "On your honour, boys,answer me this question: Do you know who did the mischief? Although Iconfess I almost forget _that_ in my regret that one of my boys has tolda direct lie."

  Once more the boys answered to their names, "No."

  Joe listened almost heart-sick, hoping that Carver would say yes; buthis negative was a decided one.

  Then followed "Cheney."

  "No."

  "Chester."

  The whole burden was to rest on him after all.

  Joe blushed to the very roots of his hair, and without glancing up,answered bravely, "Yes, sir."

  There was a little pause, followed by a suppressed buzz of surprise;then Mr. Bernard proceeded with the roll.

  Again Drayton's name was called; and, as before, he answered boldly,"No."

  No one but Joe Chester in all the school knew aught of themischief-maker.

  The ledger was returned to its place in the desk, and leaving the roomin charge of Mr. Andrews, one of the head-teachers, Mr. Bernard retiredto his study, and summoned poor Joe for an interview.

  The boy turned as pale as he had been rosy, as he passed up the room andacross the platform to the door of the study, and disappeared.

  "Little Chester, after all!" said some.

  "Ain't I glad I am not Joe Chester?" and similar expressions, wereexchanged by the boys, until Mr. Andrews began to distribute blackmarks, which had a tendency to restore order, as a certain number ofthese marks would prevent participation in the summer gipsying, and someof the boys were alarmingly near the limit.

  The eighty-five tongues were stilled, but twice eighty-five eyes werecontinually straying towards the study door behind the desk. In themeantime, Drayton could only conceal his anxiety and alarm by pretendingto be very much engaged looking up a Latin translation, while all thetime he was saying over and over to himself, "Joe promised to be mum!Joe promised to be mum!" and the minutes seemed hours.

  "What could teacher and scholar be doing?"

  The boys were all asking themselves that question, as they studied, ortried to study, in obedience to Mr. Andrews's orders.

  It was a full hour before Joe appeared and came across the platform.

  He did not glance up as he came down the room, and hastily seatedhimself, bending over his book, with both hands thrust through his shortcurls.

  Mr. Bernard did not appear at once, and the lessons went on as usual.

  When the usual hour for closing came, Mr. Bernard addressed the schoolagain:--

  "I am aware that among boys there is a code of honour in regard toinformation that will implicate a companion, and I have respect for it;but in this case, if the boy who is guilty will not confess, I deem itmy duty to the school to hunt him down, and it seems to me that ordinaryscruples ought not to prevent justice. This lie rests like a cloud overthe whole school. Chester refuses to tell me what he knows."

  A murmur of applause followed, but a heavy rap on the desk silenced it,and Mr. Bernard continued:--

  "I am sorry to add, that unless the guilty boy is manly enough to savehim by confessing his guilt, Chester must lose his fortnight in camp."

  An audible "Oh no!" followed this. But Joe's voice did not join in themurmur; he only bent a little lower over his book, and looked steadilyat the page without seeing a word upon it.

  "You are dismissed."

  The bell gave the signal for each class, and the boys passed out in anorderly way; but once outside there was a shout, "Chester! Chester!"

  As soon as he appeared he was seized by the crowd and borne on theshoulders of his comrades to the centre of the playground, where allbegan cheering and scolding him in the same breath.

  "If any fellow is mean enough to keep still and let you bear thepunishment, he ought to be told on! I wouldn't keep his secret for him!"exclaimed one of the older boys.

  "I declare I didn't know we had such a mean fellow among us!" saidanother.

  "He must feel about the size of a dried pea about this time."

  "But he won't be mean enough to let you stay behind and go himself tocamp out," said Fred Wurden, one of the quiet boys.

  S
ome of the more impulsive boys cried, "If Joe can't go, we won't any ofus go!"

  Joe said little, and went away to his room as soon as possible withDavid Winter, his room-mate. Drayton had not joined the indignant crowd.He and Ben Carver had an errand at the village, and hurried away; andduring the remainder of the term these two boys held themselves alooffrom the other boys, who were, however, too busy with their plans forvacation to remark upon it.

  Only once did Ralph and Joe meet alone, and then Ralph said, "I don'tknow how this affair is to end, old boy; but I would rather be in yourshoes than mine."

  "So would I!" exclaimed Joe heartily.

  At length the examinations were over, and the last day of school wasabout closing, when Mr. Bernard said, "To-morrow morning at six we areto start for the Cape to take steamer for our island camp-ground.Several boys will be left behind, having forfeited their pleasure.Unless the boy who was guilty of the mischief, and the far greater crimeof hiding himself behind a lie, will confess, Joseph Chester must staybehind."

  There was a pause long enough to allow the guilty boy time to speak.

  "There is time now for the guilty boy or boys to speak."

  No voice answered, and the silence grew painful.

  Then Mr. Bernard said, "Chester, my boy, unless you receive other ordersyou will remain behind. This, I think you know, gives me more pain thanit does you, and I am sure you understand why I deem it necessary."

  Chester bowed, and made a desperate effort to bear the sentence bravely,but soon resorted to the old attitude, and sat staring blindly at hisbook, with both elbows on the desk and both hands buried in his hair.

  The boys passed out of the room when dismissed, and only Chesterremained behind with the teachers, who waited to speak with him; butfinding that he could not well bear their pity, and that his quiveringlips could not frame a reply, each expressed his regret at thedisappointment, and presently Joe occupied the room alone. Still heshowed no sign of moving after a half-hour had passed.

  Presently the door opened and some one peeped in; then Joe heard a stepinside, and with the pretence of looking up a book on the differentdesks, he stood a moment at Joe's side, and dropped a note on his openVirgil, and then hastily retreated.

  Joe unfolded the note and read:--

  "JOE, I hate to go. I only go to keep my father from finding out. Youcan't hate me any more than I hate myself. D."

  That evening Joe kept his room; he could not bear to hear his friendssaying continually, "Poor Joe!" "Oh, if Joe could go!"