Tom Fairfields Pluck and Luck | Page 2

camp Bert went up in the country, where his folks were stopping, and Jack took a little coasting trip on a fishing boat. We were to meet here, but they must be delayed. However, school doesn't open for a day or so. But I want to get my place in shape."
"Good idea. That's what I did. Well, here we are," Morse added as the two came opposite a large building. "Let's go in and see what Old Balmy has in stock."
They advanced into the dormitory, being met in the lower hall by a pleasant-faced German who greeted them with:
"Ach! Goot afternoons, gentlemans. Und it iss rooms vat you are seeking?"
"Rooms it is, Herr Balmgester," replied Morse. "My friend, Tom Fairfield, here, wants that big one next to mine."
"Vat! Dot large room for one lad?"
"Oh, I've got two friends coming," explained Tom. "I had a double room over in the Ball and Bat," he added, referring to the Freshman dormitory, "but there'll be three of us here."
"Ach! Dot iss goot! Two boys makes troubles," and the German monitor of the Sophomore dormitory held up two fingers. "Three is besser--vat one does not vant to do ven der oder two does makes like a safety-valve; ain't it yes?" and he laughed ponderously.
"Oh, we'll be good," promised Tom, with a wink at Morse. "Let's see the room."
It proved all that could be desired in the way of a study and sleeping apartment for three healthy, fun-loving lads, and Tom at once signed for it, feeling sure that his two chums, when they did arrive, would approve of his choice.
"Well, now that's done, come on into town, and I'll treat you to ice cream," invited Morse, for though it was late in September the day was warm. "I'm in funds now," went on the football captain, "and I may not be--later," he added with a grim smile.
"Oh, I don't know," said Tom, hesitatingly. "I rather thought I'd hang around. Maybe Jack or Bert will come, and--"
"They can't get here until the five o'clock train, now," declared Morse. "You've got time enough to go to town and be back again. Come ahead."
"All right," assented Tom. "Wait until I get the porter to fetch my trunk from the station."
The check having been given to the porter, Tom and his chum strolled toward the trolley line that would take them into the small city of Elmwood.
"Here comes the human interrogation point!" exclaimed Morse, when they were almost at the trolley line.
"I thought he wasn't coming back to school," remarked Tom, looking around.
"He did say he wasn't, but I guess his folks made him. He wanted to branch out for himself and be a lawyer, I believe. He sure would be great on cross-examining witnesses with the way he asks questions," finished Morse with a laugh.
A small lad was approaching the two friends on the run, and, as he neared them, he called out:
"Hello, Morse! Say, Tom Fairfield, when did you get in? Did you have a good time? I hear you went camping and discovered a hidden treasure. Did it amount to much? How much did you get? Where's Jack and Bert? Are you going in for football? Where are you rooming?"
Tom and Morse came to a stop. They eyed each other solemnly. Then Tom said gravely:
"Isn't it a shame; and he's so young, too!"
"Yes," assented Morse with a mournful shake of his head. "I understand that his case is hopeless. They are going to provide a keeper for him."
"Say, look here, you fellows!" exclaimed the small lad. "What's eating you, anyhow? What do you mean by that line of talk?"
"Oh, he heard us!" gasped Tom, in pretended confusion. "I didn't think he had any rational moments. But he has. There, Georgie," he went on soothingly. "Go lie down in the shade, and you'll be all right in a little while. Do you suffer much?"
"Say, what's the joke?" demanded George Abbot, the small lad referred to. "Can't I ask you a question, without being insulted and called crazy?"
"Sure you can, Why," replied Tom, giving the lad the nick-name bestowed on him because of his many interrogations. "Of course you can ask one question, or even two, but you can't fire broadsides at us in that fashion. Remember that we have weak hearts."
"And our constitutions are not strong," added Morse.
"Oh, you be hanged!" murmured George. "If you can't--"
"Oh, come along!" invited Tom, catching him by the arm. "We're going to town. It's Morse's treat. Yes, George, I did have a bang-up time on my vacation. I'll tell you all about it later."
The three were soon on a trolley car and, a little later, they had reached the town, heading for a drug store where ice cream sodas were a specialty.
"It goes to the right spot!" exclaimed Tom gratefully,