CHAPTER III
THE PLOT
George Abbot was not exactly correct in saying that the runaway horsewas _coming_ back. The animal was being brought back, and he seemedquiet and docile enough. Perhaps he had lost his fright in the run hehad taken after being freed from the cutter.
"Who's leading the horse?" asked Bert Wilson, while Tom turned to look,after having faced the angry professor until the latter turned asidehis head. Well he knew that Tom spoke the truth. A shady transaction,while a member of the Elmwood faculty, had placed Professor Skeel underthe ban of the law, and he realized that he could not appeal to itwithout bringing himself into its clutches.
"That's Morse Denton with the animal," said Jack.
"Morse must have caught him before he went very far, or he wouldn't beback so soon," spoke Bert, waving his hand toward the former Freshmanfootball captain.
"Does that horse belong there?" Morse called across the ice.
"Yes, bring him over here," said Tom. "Perhaps we can patch up theshafts and send you on your way again, Professor Skeel," Tom wenton, for he did not hold enmity, and he was willing to let bygones bebygones, if the professor did not push matters too far.
"Um!" was all the answer the former teacher vouchsafed. He was arranginghis garments, which had been rather twisted, to say the least, by hissudden exit from the cutter.
"What happened?" asked Morse, when he led the horse up to the littlegroup standing partly on the ice of the lake and partly on the shore,for the accident had happened close to the edge.
"It was a big snowball," volunteered George. "We rolled it down thehill, and Professor Skeel ran into it."
"Be correct, young man. Be correct!" growled the former instructor."The snowball ran into me, but I'll have satisfaction. I'll----"
He caught Tom's eye on him, and fairly quailed.
"Why, it's Professor Skeel!" cried Morse. "Where did you----"
But Tom gave Morse a quick and secret sign to cease questioning, andthe newcomer, still holding the captured horse, acquiesced.
"Is the animal hurt?" demanded the former teacher.
"Doesn't seem to be," Morse replied. "I saw him coming at a slow canteracross the ice, and I had no trouble in stopping him. I guessed it wasa runaway and I started him back in just the opposite direction to thathe was going. Then I saw you fellows," he added to his chums.
"I have told Professor Skeel how sorry I am that the accident occurred,"went on Tom, "and I have assured him that we will do all that we canto repair the damage." He was speaking slowly and with reserve, andchoosing his words carefully.
"Repair the damage!" snapped the man.
"The shafts are all that seem to be broken," proceeded Tom. "I know afarmer near here, and I'm sure he will lend you another pair of shaftsfor your cutter. The harness is not damaged, the cutter itself is allright, and the horse is not hurt. There is no reason why you should notcontinue your journey, Professor Skeel."
"Well, do something then, don't stand there talking about it!" burstout the irritated man.
Tom did not answer, and his chums rather marveled, for Tom was not theyouth to take abuse quietly. But Tom realized that, through no fault ofhis own, Professor Skeel had been put to serious inconvenience, and itwas no more than just that the lads should make good the damage theyhad unwittingly done.
"Let's set up the cutter, fellows," proposed Tom, after a pause, "andthen we'll see about getting another pair of shafts. We can't usethese, that's certain." They were splintered beyond repair.
The boys of Elmwood Hall were used to doing things quickly, especiallyunder Tom's leadership. In a trice the cutter was righted, and therobes and the scattered possessions of Professor Skeel were picked upand put into it. Then while Morse, George and Bert remained to adjustthe harness on the now quieted horse, Tom and Jack went to a farmhousenear the lake to borrow a spare pair of shafts.
Tom knew the farmer, of whom he had often hired a team in the summer,and the man readily agreed not only to loan the shafts, but to adjustthem to the cutter.
He made a quick and neat job of it, and soon the horse was once morehitched to the righted vehicle.
"There you are, Professor Skeel," said Tom. "Not quite as good asbefore, but almost. You can keep on, and once more I wish to tell youhow sorry I am that it happened."
"Um!" sneered Mr. Skeel.
"You may not believe it," Tom went on. "We did not see you cominguntil we had started the ball down hill, and then it was too late tostop it. We never thought anyone would cross the lake on the ice atthis point, as no one ever does so."
"I had a right to, didn't I?" demanded the irate professor.
"A right, certainly," agreed Tom. "But it is unusual. Teams go down onthe lake about a mile farther on, and you would have been perfectlysafe there."
"Humph! I guess I can cross this lake where I please! And the next timeyou roll a snowball on me, I'll----"
"I told you," said Tom, and his voice was cuttingly cool, "that we didnot roll the ball on you. It was unintentional, but if you persistin thinking we did it purposely, we can't help that. Now, is thereanything more we can do for you?" and he looked about the snow to makesure all the contents of the cutter had been picked up and returned toit.
The professor did not answer, but busied himself getting into thevehicle, and taking the reins from Morse Denton.
"You can send them spare shafts back any time," said the farmer who hadkindly loaned them.
"We'll pay for 'em if he doesn't," said Jack in a low voice, anxiousto preserve peace. "It's getting off cheap as it is," he added.
"That's right," agreed Bert. "I thought he'd raise no end of a row."
"So he would have--only for Tom. Tom closed him up in great shape,didn't he?"
"He sure did."
Without a word of thanks, Professor Skeel drove off over the ice. Henever looked back, but the boys could hear him muttering angrily tohimself, probably giving vent to threats he dared not utter aloud.
"I wonder what he is doing in this neighborhood?" ventured Bert.
"It's certainly a puzzle," admitted Tom Fairfield. "He's up to no good,I'll wager."
"That's right," agreed Jack. "Well, I'm glad he's gone, anyhow. Thatsure was some upset!"
"Say, did you notice his ear?" asked George. "It wasn't that way whenhe was teaching school here. Looks as if a knife had cut him."
"Was his ear like that when he was shipwrecked with you, Tom?" askedBert.
"No. That's a new injury," was the answer. "Rather a queer one, too. Hemight have been in a fight."
The lads remained standing together, for a little while, gazing at thenow fast-disappearing cutter and its surly occupant.
"Well, let's get back to school," proposed Jack. "It will soon begrub-time."
"And Tom can tell us more about that hunting trip," suggested Bert.
"All right," agreed our hero, but as he walked along he was puzzlinghis brain, trying to think what Professor Skeel's object was in comingback to Elmwood Hall.
Perhaps if Tom could have seen Mr. Skeel a little later, as the cutterdrew up at a road-house some miles away--a road-house that did not havea very enviable reputation in the neighborhood--Tom would have wonderedstill more over his former teacher's return.
For, as the cutter drew up in the drive, there peered from a window twomen, one with a more evil-looking face than the other, which was hisonly claim to distinction.
"There he comes," murmured the man with the less-evil countenance.
"Yes, but he's late," agreed the other. "Wonder what kept him?"
"He looks mad--too," commented his companion.
A few moments later Professor Skeel entered the rear room of theroad-house. The two men arose from the table at which they had beensitting.
"Well, you kept your word, I see," muttered Skeel to the man with theevil face. "You're here, Whalen. And you too, Murker."
"Yes. We're here, but you didn't say what you wanted of us," spoke theone addressed as Whalen
.
"You'll know soon enough," was the rejoinder. "We sha'n't wantanything--at least not for a while," Mr. Skeel went on to the landlord,who had followed him into the room. "You can leave us alone. We'llring when we want you. And close the door when you go out," he added,significantly.
The landlord grunted.
"Well, now, what's the game?" asked Whalen, when Mr. Skeel had seatedhimself at the table.
"Revenge! That's the game!" was the fierce answer, and a fist wasbanged down on the table. "I want revenge, and I'm going to have it!"
"Who's the party?" demanded Murker.
"Someone you don't know, but whom you may soon. Tom Fairfield! I owehim a long score, but I'm going to begin to pay it now. I want you tohelp me, Whalen."
"Oh, I'll help you quick enough," was the ready answer.
"He was instrumental in having you discharged from Elmwood Hall, wasn'the?" went on the former instructor.
"That's what he was."
"Something about beating one of the smaller boys, was it not?" andSkeel smiled in a suggestive way, as though he rather relished, thanotherwise, the plight of Whalen.
"Naw, I only gave the kid a few taps 'cause he threw a snowball at me,"the discharged employee went on, "but that whelp, Fairfield, saw me,and complained to Doc. Meredith. Then I was fired."
"And you'd like a chance to get even, wouldn't you?"
"That's what I would!" was the harsh answer.
"Well, I want to square accounts with him also, and, at the same time,make a little money out of it. I thought you and Murker could help me,and that's why I asked you to meet me here. I'm a bit late, and that'ssome more of Fairfield's doings. Now to business. This is the game!"
And the three plotters drew their chairs closer together and began totalk in low, mumbling voices.