The Mercer Boys at Woodcrest. Capwell Wyckoff
of you. What are you laughing at?”
The question was addressed to the entire number of boys, so no one took the responsibility of answering. The lieutenant turned away.
“Report at Locke Hall and register,” he snapped, and strode off, the one leg ridiculous in the extreme. The newcomers watched him with interest. A brother lieutenant came out of Locke Hall and they saluted, and once past him the other turned to look at the upraised trouser. Then he grinned until, seeing the new boys looking, he composed his face and passed them. Still unheeding the lieutenant went on until he met an instructor, also in uniform, whom he saluted and would have passed, except that the instructor stopped him.
“What has happened to your trousers, Sommers?” the boys heard the instructor ask.
Sommers looked down at his right leg and then stooped and savagely tore the pins and string out. With a savage glance he looked back at the interested group of boys and his eyes blazed. Hastily saluting his superior he hurried on, and the teacher, with a faint smile on his face, resumed his walk.
“Well,” sighed Terry. “That’s over. Worked better than I thought it would.”
“You’re lucky,” laughed Don, as they made their way to the office. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he took it out on you later on.”
Don and Jim registered first and then went off to their rooms, which were on the floor above. Terry registered and awaited his orders.
“Inslee Hall,” nodded the clerk, with an engaging smile. “Room 17, second floor.” He pointed out of the door. “Go to your left along the path and you can’t miss it. Supper at six o’clock. Next!”
Terry picked up his suitcase and went out of the screen door and out onto the well-kept driveway. A wide expanse of lawn spread out before him and off in the distance he saw the hall which was to be his dormitory. Just beyond it he could see the roof of another building that they had not been able to see from the main road. Terry was not sure which of them was Inslee Hall, especially as the path ran, after a split, to both of them.
“Must be the one in the rear,” he thought, and started toward it. After skirting a clump of high bushes and a fringe of fine trees he saw the hall before him, an old wooden building with three chimneys and broad windows. The path which ran to it was not as well kept and Terry wondered at that. Drawing nearer to the place he was amazed at the neglected appearance of the place. Close to the building weeds grew in careless profusion, and the steps were covered with brushwood and dirt. Terry was frankly puzzled.
“I’ll want to get a transfer from this place in a hurry,” he murmured. “Funny, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around.”
He stepped up on the stone steps and looked in the narrow windows that flanked the main door. At once he saw his mistake.
“This isn’t the place,” he decided. “This place is deserted. Wonder what kind of a place it is?”
He pressed his face close to the glass and looked in. The main hall of the old building was before him, and a desk, two chairs and a bookcase stood there. Thick layers of dust covered everything. In the back of the hall a curving flight of stairs ran up to the second floor.
“This place hasn’t been used for years,” thought Terry, about to turn away. Just at that moment a white door at the far end of the downstairs hall opened slowly and an old man appeared. In his hand he had a tin tray, upon which were two plates of meat and potatoes. Steam rose from the tray, and as the old man shuffled slowly forward Terry noticed that he held a lighted candle in his hand.
“Somebody does live in the place,” he thought. “Wonder they wouldn’t clean up a bit.”
At that moment the old man looked up and saw him. With an expression of terror he blew out his candle, at the same time stepping into a doorway and out of sight. Terry stared in amazement.
“Well, what do you know about that!” he gasped. “Poor old guy must have thought I was a ghost or something. Well, I’m in the wrong place, I can see that.” He stepped back and looked up at the front of the building. On a board sign, its letters almost rubbed out by the elements, was a name painted in white. It said “Clanhammer Hall.”
“Clanhammer Hall,” mused Terry, turning away. “According to my catalogue, that was the original building of Woodcrest School. Well, it isn’t much of a place now, I can tell you. I wonder why that old man ducked out of sight when he saw me?”
CHAPTER 2
Life at Woodcrest
He had no further trouble finding Inslee Hall and once there room 17 was easy to find. Two newcomers were already there, young fellows by the name of Harlow and Murray, and Terry got acquainted with them before he left to go to Locke Hall. He stowed his belongings away and then went over to the main hall to look up his friends. He found them in room 21, a large pleasant room in the front of the main building. They were arranging things around the room when he entered and he sat on the extra bed and watched them.
“Just saw something awfully queer,” he informed them, when they had finished.
In answer to their inquiries he told them of his experience at Clanhammer Hall. Both of the boys were interested but treated the matter lightly.
“They must use the place for something special,” Don suggested.
“That’s all well and good, but that doesn’t explain why that old guy ducked into the doorway the way he did. No, I feel that there is something more in it than that. However, perhaps we had better keep it to ourselves, at least until we are a little better acquainted around here.”
The Mercer brothers agreed that this plan was best. Just at that moment a knock sounded on the door. Jim called, “Come in.”
The door opened to admit a fine-looking fellow in full uniform with stripes of a cadet captain. He had a nice smile and the newcomers felt a friendliness toward him at once.
“How do you do, boys?” greeted the cadet. “I am Captain Rhodes of the senior class, and I’ve come to look in on you. One of the traditions of the seniors here is to make fourth class men feel at home, and so I’ve come to introduce myself. I’m not intruding, I hope?”
“Not at all, Captain Rhodes,” replied Don. “Very glad to have you, and we appreciate your tradition. I am Don Mercer, and this is my brother Jim. This is Terry Mackson.”
“Glad to know you all,” nodded the captain, shaking hands with them. “Is this the fellow who pinned up Sommers’ trousers?”
“My fame has run before me!” murmured Terry, smiling.
“Yes, Terry’s the culprit,” laughed Don. “A bad boy all around, always into something, but he means well, Mr. Rhodes.”
“I don’t doubt it,” returned the cadet. “You may drop the mister, Mercer. Speaking of Terry’s well-meaning attempt on Mr. Sommers, I can safely say that no harm was done except a temporary bruising of the lieutenant’s feelings. He is our prize dignitary, but underneath a very nice fellow. Nothing mean about him, but simply filled with a spirit of military efficiency. Well, how do you think you are going to like Woodcrest?”
The boys assured him that they thought they would like it very much. Rhodes went on to tell them a few things about the school and to praise their colonel.
“Colonel Morrell is a fine man,” he said. “We all look up to our headmaster. He isn’t here yet, but will be in a day or so. At present we are in the charge of his assistant, Major Tireson. The colonel is a little short, fat fellow, full of good humor and every inch a man. Have you seen the grounds yet?”
“We’ve been busy unpacking,” replied Jim. “But Terry saw some of them. He’s rooming over at Inslee.”
“I didn’t see much,” put in Terry. “I did see that old dormitory in the back, Clanhammer Hall. Isn’t the place used any more?”
“No, and it hasn’t