"All right, Gus--I"ll try to see you this noon," replied Dave, in a low tone; and then all the students pa.s.sed down to the dining-hall.
"Plum has certainly got something on his mind," was Roger"s comment.
"Well, that exposure was a terrible thing for him," returned Phil. "Of course what he did wasn"t as bad as what was done by Nick Jasniff and those two robbers, but it was bad enough. I"d hate to have such a black mark against my name."
The Thanksgiving holidays had been rather short, and those pupils who lived a long distance from Oak Hall had remained at that inst.i.tution; consequently the routine of studies was taken up that day without much trouble. Fortunately Dave was now placed under Andrew Dale, the first a.s.sistant, a teacher loved by all the scholars.
"I know I shall learn faster than ever," said Dave to Roger. "Mr. Dale knows just how to bring out all there is in a fellow."
"I wish the doctor would get rid of old Haskers," returned the senator"s son. "I simply can"t bear him."
"Haskers is under contract, so I"ve been told, Roger. Maybe he"ll be dropped when the contract runs out."
Just before the bell rang for the morning session Shadrach Mellick drove off in his big sleigh. The schoolboys gave him a parting salute of s...o...b..a.l.l.s which the farmer tried in vain to duck.
"Hi, yeou!" he roared. "Want to knock the top of my head off? Stop it!"
And then, to escape his tormentors, he whipped up his horses and dashed out of the Hall grounds at top speed. It was the last the boys saw of him for a long time.
It was not until after the day"s sessions were over that Dave got a chance to see Gus Plum alone. The two met in the upper hallway and walked to the dormitory the former bully occupied, and Plum locked the door.
"Sit down, Dave, I want to talk to you," said Plum, and motioned Dave to the easiest chair the dormitory contained. Then he sank on the edge of a bed close by.
"All right, Gus, fire away," answered Dave, and he wondered what was coming next.
"I--er--I don"t know how to say it--how to begin," stammered the former bully, and his face showed a trace of red in it. "But I"ve made up my mind to speak to you, and ask your advice. You saved me from a terrible disgrace, Dave, and I know you"ll tell me the best thing to do."
"What about?"
"Well--about everything. First of all, about staying here. At first I thought I could do it--that I could face the crowd and live it down. But now--the way some of the boys treat me--and look at me--and the remarks made behind my back! Oh, Dave, it"s terrible,--you can"t imagine how hard it is!" And there was a quiver in Gus Plum"s voice that meant a great deal.
"I am sorry to hear of this, Gus. But you must live it down, there is nothing else to do."
"I can go away--my folks are ready to send me to another school."
"Don"t do it--stay here and fight it out. I know how you feel--I felt that way when they called me "a poorhouse n.o.body.""
"Oh, Dave, I did that! I am so sorry now!"
"You are bound to win in the end--if you do what is fair and honest. So long as Doctor Clay is willing to keep you, you"d better stay by all means."
"Yes, yes, I know, but--but--there is something else." Plum dropped his hands in his face. "I don"t know how I am going to tell you, but I want to tell somebody. It"s been on my mind ever since it happened." And then, to Dave"s amazement, Gus Plum threw himself across the bed and began to sob violently.
CHAPTER VI
GUS PLUM"S CONFESSION
That the former bully of Oak Hall was thoroughly broken-down there could be no doubt, and Dave pitied him from the bottom of his heart. He wondered what Gus Plum would have to say next, and resolved to aid the lad as much as lay in his power.
"Come, Gus, you had better tell me your whole story," he said, kindly, and sitting on the bed he took one of the lad"s hands in his own.
"Well, you know how I promised Doctor Clay I"d turn over a new leaf, and all that," began Plum. "I haven"t done it."
"Oh, Gus!"
"I wanted to--but the force of circ.u.mstances, and my own weakness, wouldn"t let me. Do you remember how I told you about my financial affairs--losing money on that football game and all that? Well, I learned that I was deeper in debt than I thought I was. I paid what debts I could and then found out that I still owed two men in Oakdale forty dollars. I didn"t dare to write home for money, for after that exposure my father said he would only allow me five dollars a month spending money and not a cent more, for the next year. I met one of the men in Oakdale the day before Thanksgiving--after you were away--and he--oh, how can I tell it!--he got me to go to that tavern with him and gamble again, in the hope of winning the money I needed."
"And you gambled, Gus? That was too bad."
"At first I played cards for small amounts, but then the men treated--they insisted upon my drinking--and then we made the stakes larger, and when I came away, instead of winning back the forty dollars, I found myself owing them eighty-five dollars. And now they say if I do not pay up at once they"ll expose me to the doctor and my folks." Gus Plum heaved a deep sigh. "Oh, I wish I was dead!" he sobbed.
"Gus, I thought you were going to give up gambling and drinking?"
"I was, but those men persuaded me before I was aware. If I ever get out of this you"ll never catch me doing it again--never, as long as I live!"
"You say you owe them eighty-five dollars?"
"Yes."
"Do you owe any more than that?"
"They say I owe the tavern keeper two dollars. But I don"t think so. I didn"t order anything."
"Have you any money at all?"
"Three dollars and a half."
"Come to my room."
"What for?"
"Never mind, come along--before any of the others come up."
Wondering what Dave had in mind to do, the former bully of Oak Hall followed Dave to Dormitory No. 12. Here Dave went straight to his trunk, brought out a long flat pocketbook, and began to open it.
"Why, Dave, you don"t mean to----" began Gus Plum, his eyes opening widely.
"Gus, I am going to lend you the money, but only under one condition,"
said Dave.
"Do you mean to say you have that much on hand?" demanded Plum.
"Yes, I have exactly a hundred dollars in this pocketbook. It is a special sum that my uncle advised me to keep for emergencies. He says he may go away some time and I may need money before he can send it to me.
It has nothing to do with my regular allowance. I will loan you the eighty-five dollars on one condition--no, on two conditions."
"What are they?"