“That’s the talk,” broke in Andy. “We’ll catch him red-handed and turn him over to the captain.”
“I—I don’t want to go back,” pleaded the toady. “Bet—better call Captain Putnam.”
“Not yet, Mumps. Where was the fellow last?”
“We’ll soon root him out!” cried Dale, and leaped up the stairs with Andy at his heels. “Come on!” And Mumps followed, but at a safe distance behind.
Dale and Andy approached dormitory Number 7 with caution. It was empty and all of the rugs from the floor were gone.
A noise in the next room reached them. They looked in and saw a man kneeling on the floor, tying half a dozen small rugs into a bundle.
“Is this the man?” asked Andy, stepping back to Mumps.
“Ye—yes,” stammered the toady. “Do—don’t let him shoot you!”
“Mumps, you are the most cowardly fellow I ever saw in my life,” went on the acrobatic youth.
“I don’t care, some burglars are desperate characters,” whined Mumps. “I’ve read of them shooting people who tried to catch ’em.”
“How do you know?” and now the toady’s eyes opened widely.
“He is the man the captain hired to clean all the rugs and the carpets in the Hall. While we are in camp the school is to have a general cleaning.”
“You’re a fine burglar hunter,” said Dale, and began to laugh. “Mumps, you ought to become a detective.”
“Oh, you needn’t make fun of me,” whined the toady, and ran off with a very red face.
The story was too good to keep, and soon many of the students knew how Baxter’s toady had thought to trap a burglar, and Mumps was plagued unmercifully. The man to do the cleaning also heard of it and laughed as loudly as anybody.
On the following Wednesday morning bright and early the cadets left Putnam Hall for the brief encampment. They took with them three wagons, loaded with tents, cooking utensils, and provisions.
The battalion certainly presented a fine appearance when it started off. Every cadet was looking his best, in a well-brushed uniform with shining buttons. Each gun and sword was polished to perfection. Major Jack was at the head, and he was filled with pardonable pride when he gave the order to march.
Tap! tap! tap, tap, tap! went the drums, and then the fifers struck up a shrill and lively air, and off they moved down the road in the direction of Lake Smalley, in the center of which was located Bear Island. The distance to be traveled was seventeen miles, and they calculated to cover it before sundown with ease.