Dave Porter in the South Seas Part 23

"Let us hunt for the picture," came from Buster Beggs, who knew about the photograph, and all started a search, which lasted until Ben and Roger returned.

"We've discovered the chaps who are responsible," said Ben, in triumph.

"They are Gus Plum and Nat Poole," a.s.serted the senator's son. "Pop Swingly was throwing this stuff away in a hole back of the campus, when Plum and Poole came up. He heard them talking about playing a trick, but he didn't think they'd lower themselves by touching the mess. I suppose they thought that they were doing something quite smart."

"Dave's photo is gone," said Phil. "We have been hunting for it everywhere."

"You don't say! Dave, that is too bad."

"We ought to make Plum and Poole clean up this mess," came from Buster.

"Let us try to capture them."

The suggestion met with instant approval, and the boys started to locate the bully and his crony. Plum and Poole were still below, but Shadow Hamilton announced that they were preparing to come up by a side stairs.

"We must get them, sure!" cried Dave. "I want that picture back, if nothing else."

Soon one boy, who was acting as a spy, announced the coming of Plum and Poole. The pair were allowed to reach the door of their dormitory, when they were pounced on from behind and made prisoners. They tried to escape, but the crowd was too many for them, and towels pulled down over their mouths kept them from raising an outcry.

"What's the meaning of this?" spluttered Nat Poole, when he found himself and his crony in dormitory No. 12, and with the door closed and locked.

"It means, in the first place, that I want my things back," said Dave, "and especially a photograph that was between my books."

"Humph! that photo is burned up," growled Gus Plum.

"Gus Plum!" gasped Dave. He could say no more.

"Plum, do you mean to say you burned that picture up?" demanded Roger.

"If you did, you ought to be tarred and feathered for it!"

"He wouldn't dare to do it!" came boldly from Phil. "If he did, I know what Dave will do--have him sent to jail for it."

"Bah! You can't send me to jail for a little fun," bl.u.s.tered the bully.

"That is no fun, Plum," put in Ben. "That photo was of great importance.

If you burned it up, you will surely suffer."

"Is it really burned or not?" muttered Dave, hoa.r.s.ely. "Answer me, you--you cur!" and he caught the bully by the throat.

"Le-let go--don't strangle me! N-no--it's all right. I was only fooling."

"Then, where is it?"

"In the--the closet--on the top shelf."

Dave dropped his hold and ran to the closet pointed out. True enough, on the top shelf, in a back corner, were the books, with the precious photograph between them. Dave lost no time in placing the picture in an inside pocket.

"You're a fine fellow, not to take a bit of fun without getting mad,"

grumbled Gus Plum. He did not dare to say too much in such a crowd.

"So you call this fun?" remarked Phil, sarcastically. "Fun! to play the scavenger and bring this stuff up here? Well, I must say, I don't like your preference for a calling."

"Look here, you needn't call us scavengers!" howled Nat Poole. "I am a gentleman, I am!"

"Well, you brought this up here, you and Plum."

"It was only a--re--a joke. Everybody has got to put up with jokes to-night."

"Well, you are going to put up with a little hard work," came from Roger.

"Work?"

"Yes. You and Plum are going to clean up the muss and put this room in apple-pie order."

"Huh! I see myself doing it!" stormed the aristocratic youth.

"You will do it," observed Ben. "Isn't that so, fellows?"

There was a chorus of approvals.

"So take off your coats and get to work," said Dave, who felt easier, now that he had the picture back. "I guess you both need a little exercise."

"I'll be hanged if I do a stroke!" roared Gus Plum.

Hardly had he spoken, when Ben caught up a pitcher of ice-water and held it over the bully's head.

"Take your choice, Plum!" he cried, and allowed a little of the ice-water to trickle down the bully's backbone. There was a roar of fright and a s.h.i.+ver.

"Oh! Don't do that! Do you want to freeze me to death!"

"Now, Poole, maybe you want some," added Ben, advancing. Poole tried to retreat, stumbled, and sat down heavily on a decayed cabbage, which squashed beneath him. He set up a roar.

"Now see what you've done, Ben Ba.s.swood! My best gray suit, too! I'll fix you for this!"

"Both of you must get to work!" declared Dave. "We'll give you two minutes in which to get started. If you don't start----"

"We'll roll you in the decayed vegetables and kick you out," finished Buster Beggs. With the term so nearly ended, he was growing reckless.

"I'll play timekeeper," and he drew out his watch.

Plum and Poole begged and protested, but all to no purpose, and, badly scared, took off their coats and cuffs, rolled up their sleeves, and began to clean up the muss they had made. While this was under way, the other boys of the dormitory came up and viewed the scene with amazement and satisfaction.

At last the dirty job was at an end, at least so far as Plum and Poole could go. They had worked hard and were bathed in perspiration, and their hands were in anything but a clean condition. Both were "boiling mad," but neither dared to say a word, for fear the others would make them do more.

"Now you have learned your trade," said Phil, finally, "you can graduate as full-fledged scavengers. When you go out, don't fail to place that bag of nasty stuff in a corner of your own room. The smell will give you both pleasant dreams."

"Phil Lawrence----" began the bully.

"Just wait till I----" came from Nat Poole.

"Silence!" cried Dave. "Not a word, or you'll be sorry. Take up the bag.