Tom Fairfields Pluck and Luck | Page 9

others chorused an assent.
"Then you wait until I send for you, Tom," went on the post-graduate student. "It may take a day or so to get the experiment in shape."
There were murmurs of surprise as Bruce bowed himself out, and some were still rather in favor of taking summary action against Sam and Nick. But Tom said:
"No, I've passed my word, and that goes. Bruce knows what he's talking about, and we'll wait and see what he has up his sleeve. If his experiment doesn't work, he'll be the first one to admit it, and then he'll say the bars are down, and we can do as we like."
As he finished there came across the campus the sound of a bell ringing.
"Well, I know what I'm going to do right now, and that is get ready for grub!" exclaimed Bert. "Sam and Nick can wait for all of me, but I'm hungry."
Soon a merry party had gathered in the big dining room, for more students had arrived by later trains, or other conveyances, and Tom and his chums were kept busy renewing old acquaintances, or making new ones.
"There are a raft of Freshies," commented Jack to his chum, as they lingered over the dessert. "We'll have our hands full hazing them, all right!"
"Oh, we can do it," declared Bert. "We always have."
"Humph! We've been Sophs such a terrible long time," murmured Tom with a smile.
Discipline was rather lax that night, and there was much visiting to and fro in the rooms. The proctor and the professors were kept busy registering new students and did not pay much attention to the older ones, including Tom and his chums, who made merry.
"Oh, you boys!" exclaimed Demosthenes Miller, or "Demy" as he was called--the studious janitor. "Oh, you boys! Will you ever settle down?"
"I'm afraid not," replied Tom, as he invaded the lower regions of the man who attended to the fires, to borrow a long poker. "We want this for some fun. There's a prof. who has a room just under ours, and he wears a wig. It's out on the window sill to air, and I think I can hook it."
"Oh, young gentlemen, don't, I beg of you!" expostulated the janitor. But they paid no heed to him, and hurried off with the long poker, while the studious janitor, to drown his apprehension, took up a Latin book which he was struggling through, endeavoring to educate himself in the classics.
Tom was engaged in the exciting, if forbidden, sport of trying to lift the wig of the unfortunate professor from the ledge beneath his room window, when there came a knock on his door.
"Oh ho!" ejaculated Bruce Bennington, as he entered. "Up to your old tricks, I see. Well I can't blame you. I did the same thing once. What are you after, a bottle of pop?"
"A wig," explained Tom, briefly. "Want a try for it?"
"Not me. I've got to walk pretty straight you know. I'm regarded as a sort of professor now, and I suppose, if I did my strict duty, I'd report you. But I'm off duty to-night. I say, Tom, are you ready now for that experiment I spoke of?"
"Sure I am. But--" and Tom looked suggestively at the poker and motioned downward to where the wig was still reposing.
"We'll get it up while you're gone," said Jack.
"You will not!" cried Tom. "Do you think I want to miss all the fun? Wait until I get back. Will your experiment take long, Bruce?"
"It may take most of the evening. But the wig will keep, and you may think up a better plan in regard to it. Why not substitute another for it while you're at it?"
"By Jove! The very thing!" cried Jack.
"You can get one while you're in town if you like," went on Bruce dryly, "for I'm going to drag you off to town, Tom."
"Good! I'm with you. Mind now," he cautioned his chums, "don't touch that wig until I get back."
They promised, and, though wondering what Bruce had in mind, they asked no questions.
"I guess it's safe to run the guard to-night," remarked Bruce, as he and Tom crossed the campus on their way to the trolley line running into Elmwood.
"Oh, sure," assented our hero. "But what's in the wind?"
"I'm going to prove to you that it would be bad policy to make a class matter of sending Sam to Coventry, or of trying to run him out of the school. And to do that I invite you to have a little lunch with me in town."
"All right," assented Tom, wondering what his friend had in store for him.
A little later they were seated in a private room in one of the Elmwood restaurants much patronized by the students. Bruce ordered a tasty little lunch, and they