Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

He and Will carried them back to school, and managed to smuggle them in. It was a new experience for Will to have a friend like Jack Ranger, and to be taking part in this daring but harmless breach of the school rules. Under this stimulus Will was fast losing his melancholy mood, and he responded brightly to Jack’s jokes.

“Now you stay in your room until I call for you,” our hero had said to Will on parting after supper that night. Jack wanted to spring a sort of surprise on his chums, and introduce Will to them at the feast. In accordance with his instructions the lads had gathered in his room about ten o’clock that night, stealing softly in after Martin, the monitor, had made his last round to see that lights were out. Then Jack had announced his plan of having the feast in the basement.

“Grab up the grub and come on,” said the leader a little later. “Softly now – no noise until we’re downstairs.”

“Will Socker keep mum?” asked Bony.

“As an oyster in a church sociable stew,” replied Jack. “I’ve promised to listen to another of his war tales.”

“Jack’s getting to be a regular martyr,” observed Sam.

“Silence in the ranks!” commanded Captain Jack.

The lads stole softly along the corridors. Just as they got opposite the door of Martin’s room, there was a dull thud.

“What’s that?” whispered Jack softly.

“I – I dropped one of the pies,” replied Bony, cracking his knuckles at the double-quick in his excitement.

“Scoop it up and come on. You’ll have to eat it,” said Jack.

In fear and trembling they went on. Fortunately, Martin did not hear the noise, and the lads got safely past.

Jack, who was in the rear, paused at a door at the end of the hall, and knocked softly.

“Yes,” answered a voice from within.

“Come on,” commanded Jack, and he was joined by a dark figure.

They reached the basement safely, no one having disputed their night march. Socker, the janitor, met them at the door of the boiler-room.

“Here we are,” said Jack.

“So I see, Mr. Ranger. Why, it reminds me of the time when Captain Crawford and me took a forced night march of ten miles to get some rations. We were with Sherman, on his trip to the sea, and – ”

“You must be sure to tell me that story,” interrupted Jack. “But not now. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Ranger. But I depend on you not to say anything about this to Dr. Mead in case – ”

“Oh, you can depend on us,” Jack assured him.

“I thought I could. It reminds me of the time when we were before Petersburgh, and a comrade and I went to – ”

“You must not forget to tell me that story,” interrupted Jack. “I particularly want to hear it, Socker.”

“I will,” said the janitor, delighted that he had at last found an earnest listener.

“But not now,” said Jack. “We must get to work. Do you like pie, Socker?”

“Do I, Mr. Ranger? Well, I guess I do. I remember once when we were at Gettysburg – ”

“Bony, where’s that extra choice pie you had?” asked Jack with a wink at his chum. “Give it to Mr. Socker here,” and Bony passed over the bit of pastry that had met with the accident in the hall.

“That will keep him quiet for a while,” said Jack in a whisper.

The lads, bearing the good things Jack had provided, passed through the boiler-room and into a storage apartment, where cans of oil, waste, tools and the like were kept. Socker had arranged some boards on a couple of sawhorses for the students, and there, by the light of several candles stuck in the necks of bottles, the table was spread.

“Say, but this is jolly, all right,” said Sam Chalmers. “Jack, you’re a public benefactor.”