Bart Keene's Hunting Days: or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp. Chapman Allen
you.”
“But the lamp won’t give any light unless I press the spring,” explained Bart, for the electric switch was thus operated.
“I’ll show you how to make it,” volunteered Ned. “I can fasten the spring with a match,” which he proceeded to do, the light glowing without any one touching the spring. Bart had no further excuse, and assisted his chums in transferring to the bags he had brought a large part of Professor Long’s collection. The reptiles made little resistance, though one of the large turtles did nip Frank slightly.
“Never mind, Alice will put on some carbolic salve or peroxide,” said Bart, cheerfully. “I guess we’ve got enough now. Look out, there’s a snake going to get away!” He grabbed the lively reptile just in time, and stuffed it into his bag.
The three conspirators hurried away from the school, and made their way to the back yard of Fenn’s house. The shack was fastened with a simple catch, which Bart had no difficulty in loosening. Then, working quickly and silently, the three chums made a large addition to Fenn’s collection. The snakes, turtles, lizards and frogs from the school cabinet were put in the boxes with Fenn’s pets, and the small doors fastened. Then the hut was closed.
“Now we must be on hand here early to-morrow morning,” said Bart, as they sneaked away.
“Sure. We’ll pretend to Fenn that we are anxious to see his collection,” said Ned. “He’ll be only too glad to take us out here, and then we can see his expression, when he catches sight of the visitors. Oh, we’ll be on hand all right!” and then the trio went to their homes.
Early the next morning, Bart, Ned and Frank called on Fenn. He had not been in evidence the night before, so they felt sure their trick had not been discovered. He came to the door in response to their whistles.
“Say, you fellows are on the job early, aren’t you?” inquired Stumpy, with just a shade of suspicion in his tones.
“We want to have a little football practice,” answered Bart. “And we came to see if you’d show us your collection of turtles.”
“Hey? What’s that?” asked Fenn, quickly.
“That’s straight, Stumpy,” added Ned. “We won’t hurt ’em, will we, fellows?”
“Sure not,” agreed Frank.
His suspicions lulled to rest, Fenn led the way to the shack in the back yard.
“I haven’t fed ’em yet,” he remarked. “I was just going to when you chaps came along. I haven’t had my breakfast yet.”
“Oh, it’s awful to have to pay these social calls on young ladies!” mocked Bart, pretending to yawn. “It keeps you up so late, and morning comes too soon.”
“Aw, cut it out,” advised Fenn, with an injured air, but he blushed. “Now, no poking the turtles,” he stipulated, as he opened the shack door.
“Visitors are politely requested not to feed or annoy the animals,” quoted Bart, from some menagerie sign. “Do they eat much?” he asked of Fenn.
“Oh, not much, especially in cool weather. They’re sort of sluggish then. I haven’t got many yet, but I expect to – ”
By this time Fenn had the door open, and the sight that met his eyes almost bereft him of speech.
For, to his small collection had been added nearly all the reptiles from the High School. Snakes reared up their heads and hissed at him. From the corner of one cage a large mud turtle stuck out its leathery neck. A fat toad, one of many, squatted on the box of worms Fenn kept for his “pets,” and two alligators, like twins, waved their long tails to and fro.
“For the love of Mike, what have you here?” cried Bart, pretending to be frightened.
“Good land! You never said you had so many!” added Ned.
“Is it safe to go in? Let me hide behind you, Stumpy. You’re so fat and juicy that they’d grab you first,” said Frank.
For a moment Fenn did not speak. Then he understood the joke that had been played.
“You fellows think you’re awful smart; don’t you?” he demanded. “Well, all I’ve got to say is – ”
“That you’re stung! Eh, Stumpy, my lad?” cried Bart good naturedly, clapping his chum on the back. “Take your medicine like a man. You’re stung good and proper. We thought your animals would be lonesome, so we added a few for luck. Pretty, aren’t they?” and, at the sight of Fenn’s bewildered face, Bart went off in a paroxysm of mirth, finally lying down on the ground outside the shack, and rolling over and over.
Frank and Ned joined him, and their howls brought Mrs. Masterson to the back door to see what was the matter. As soon as she saw the four chums she knew, without being told, that it was some joke.
“It wouldn’t be them, if they weren’t up to something,” she observed, as she went on getting breakfast.
Fenn was not long proof against the infectious laughter of his chums. The frown faded from his face, and a smile replaced it. Soon, he too, was laughing heartily at the joke played on him.
“All I’ve got to say,” he remarked, “is that you fellows went to a lot of work to get a laugh. You must have brought nearly all the school collection,” for he recognized the professor’s specimens.
“We did,” admitted Bart, “but it was worth it all; eh, fellows?”
The boys paused to admire Fenn’s “pets” as well as to take a more careful view of the reptiles they had “borrowed” from the school. Then Bart and his two chums put back into the bags the snakes, lizards, turtles, toads and alligators belonging to the professor, and hurried back with them to the school. They were lucky in escaping observation by the janitor, and soon the science-cabinet cages held their former tenants.
There was a football game that afternoon, in which the four chums took part, playing hard and well, their team winning the contest by a narrow margin. They took a short walk, Sunday, discussing the game, and talking rather vaguely of the possibility of going to a winter camp that year.
“I think it would be just the cheese, fellows,” observed Bart.
“It would, and the crackers, too,” conceded Ned. “But I don’t see how we can manage it.”
“Maybe we can,” declared Frank indefinitely.
When the four chums went to school the following Monday morning they were made aware that something unusual had taken place. It was not so much in what was said, as in an indefinable air of expectancy on the part of several members of the faculty. After the usual opening morning services, Principal McCloud advanced to the edge of the platform in the assembly hall, and remarked:
“Young gentlemen, I have something to say to you. After I have finished, Mr. Long, the science teacher, has a few words to add.”
At once Bart cast apprehensive looks at his chums. Had the “borrowing” of the specimens been discovered? It looked so.
“Some time between Friday night and this morning,” went on the principal, “this school was entered, and some objects were taken from the science cabinets.”
There was no doubt about it. The blow had fallen. Bart, Ned and Frank prepared to “take their medicine.”
“It has been discovered,” continued Mr. McCloud, “that several specimens of snakes, lizards, toads and alligators were surreptitiously removed from Professor Long’s cabinet. This would not have been so serious, for, whoever took them, brought them all back again – that is all save one. I regret to report that one of the finest and largest specimens of mud turtles is missing. Now Professor Long has a word to say.”
Mr. Long, who was a small man, with a bustling, nervous manner, came briskly to the edge of the platform.
“I can only confirm what Professor McCloud has said,” he began. “While I regret exceedingly that any persons, least of all pupils of this school, whom I may say we suspect, could so far forget