Bart Keene's Hunting Days; or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp
CHAPTER I
A MIDNIGHT EXPEDITION
“Hold on there! Go easy, now, fellows,” cautioned Bart Keene to his two chums, as they stole softly along in the darkness. “What are you making all that racket for, Ned?”
“It wasn’t me; it was Frank.”
“I couldn’t help it,” came from Frank Roscoe in a whisper. “I stumbled on a stone.”
“Well, don’t do it again,” retorted Bart. “First thing you know some one will hear us, and the jig will be up.”
“And then we can’t play the joke on Stumpy,” added Ned Wilding.
“Of course not,” went on Bart. “Easy now. Come on. Keep behind me in a line, and walk in the shadows as much as possible. We’re almost there.”
The three lads bent upon playing a peculiar trick on their chum, Fenn, or “Stumpy” Masterson, kept on toward the Darewell High School, at which they were students. The building set well back from the street, and the campus in front was now flooded with brilliant moonlight. It was close to midnight, and to approach the institution unobserved, to take from it certain objects, and to steal away without having been noticed, was the object of the three conspirators.
“Are you coming?” asked Bart, as he turned around to observe what progress his companions were making. He saw Ned and Frank standing still, crouched in the shadow of a leafless tree. “What’s the matter?” he continued, somewhat anxiously.
“Thought I heard a noise in the building,” whispered Frank, hoarsely.
“You’re dreaming,” retorted Bart. “Come on. It’s getting late, and we want to finish.”
“Yes, and it’s as cold as Greenland,” added Ned. The boys had on light overcoats, for winter was near at hand.
Once more the two advanced, and joined Bart. The three were now in the shadow of one of the wings of the school, and, as far as they knew, had not been seen.
“Which way are you going in?” asked Ned, of Bart, who was leading this midnight expedition.
“Through the side court, and in at the girls’ door. That’s most always open, as Riggs, the janitor, lives on that side of the school, and he doesn’t take the trouble to lock the door, as his house is so near.”
“Good idea,” commented Frank. “Lead on, Falstaff, an’ may he who – ”
“Cut it out,” advised Bart sharply. “This is no time to spout Shakespeare stuff.”
Once more the three advanced. Suddenly Bart stopped, and Ned, who was close behind, collided with him.
“What’s wrong now?” whispered Ned, as soon as he caught his breath.
“Hush!” cautioned Bart. “I saw a man just then! He was right by the front door of the school.” Bart had come to a halt in the shadow of a buttress, just before stepping across an open space that led to the court.
“A man,” murmured Ned. “Probably it was Riggs, the janitor.”
“No, he was too tall for Riggs,” answered Bart. “Besides, he didn’t limp, as Riggs does, from a leg that was once broken. No, this man wasn’t Riggs.”
“What was he doing?” asked Frank.
“Standing near the front door, as if he was going in. Then he seemed to change his mind. I think – There he is again!” exclaimed Bart, suddenly, and he shrank farther back into the dense shadows, his chums following his example.
At the same instant Ned and Frank caught sight of the man. The stranger approached the front door as if afraid of being seen, and, every now and then, he turned about, as the boys could notice to take an observation. As they looked on they saw him suddenly open the front door, after fumbling about the lock, and enter the school, closing the portal behind him.
“Well, what do you think of that?” gasped Bart, after a moment’s pause.
“He’s a burglar!” declared Frank.
“Let’s go tell the police,” suggested Ned.
“No, wait a minute,” advised Bart, putting restraining hands on his two chums. “Don’t tell the police.”
“Why not?” Ned wanted to know.
“Because they might ask what we were doing around the school at night, and we don’t want to tell – do we?”
“That’s so,” agreed Frank. “Maybe that chap isn’t a burglar, after all.”
“You’re right,” came from Ned. “What could a burglar steal in the school?”
“Books, and instruments from the laboratory,” was Bart’s contribution to the opinions. “But I, myself, don’t believe he is a burglar. Possibly he is some one whom Riggs hired to help out with the sweeping and dusting.”
“Let’s wait and see,” suggested Frank, and this was agreed to. Silently the chums, from their place of hiding, kept their eyes on the school. Presently there was a flicker of light in the windows of one of the upper rooms.
“There!” exclaimed Ned, “what did I tell you! He’s a new janitor, sweeping out,” for the light moved to and fro.
“What room is that?” asked Bart.
“Professor Long’s – the place where we’re bound for,” answered Frank.
“Hush! Not so loud,” pleaded Bart. “Some one may hear you, and get on to our trick. I guess you’re right. We’ll wait until he gets out of the way.”
“It may be a long time, and Fenn may come looking for us,” ventured Ned.
“Can’t help it,” decided Bart. “We can’t go in while the man is there.”
There seemed no way out of it, and the three chums crouched in the shadows, waiting. It was cold, and more than once they wished they had not started to play the joke on Fenn, but they were not going to give up now. They saw the light, moving to and fro, but it did not leave the room where they had first observed it – the classroom of Professor Long, the science teacher.
“He must be giving that a good cleaning,” remarked Bart. Hardly had he spoken than the light disappeared. A few minutes later it was visible on the floor below, and then it could be traced, as the person carrying it, descended.
“He’s coming out,” declared Ned.
“So much the better,” commented Frank.
An instant later the front door opened and the man who had gone in, hurried out. He seemed in great haste for, giving a quick look around, he darted away from the school, down the front walk, and up the street.
“Fellows, that was no janitor!” declared Bart. “I believe he was a burglar!”
“But he didn’t have any bundles,” declared Frank. “If he had stolen anything, he’d have to pack it up, as anything of value in the school is quite bulky. I don’t believe he took anything.”
“Then why did he run?” demanded Bart.
This
