# Dave Porter at Oak Hall/Chapter 27

CHAPTER XXVII
THE MISSING COMPOSITION
The boys in dormitories No. 11 and No. 12 had just had time enough to get to bed when the two assistant teachers appeared. They looked in each bed and then withdrew silently.
"Phew, but that was a narrow squeak!" whispered Ben. "Another minute, and we should have been caught!"
"They are going through every dormitory," announced Phil, whose bed was close to the door. "I hope the others have retired."
To make certain he opened the door on a crack. The two teachers had just entered No. 13. He heard some talking, and when he shut the door again he smiled broadly.
"This is the richest yet, fellows!" he whispered. "What do you think? Plum, Macklin, and Poole are missing, and old Haskers thinks it was one of them that locked him in the storeroom!"
At this announcement there were several smothered laughs.
"They'll catch it—if they are caught," whispered Roger. "Wonder where they went?"
​"On a little jollification of their own, I suppose,—just to outdo us," said Sam Day, and he guessed the exact truth.
It was not until a full hour later that a murmur below told them that something more was going on. At the risk of being discovered, Dave and Roger crept out into the hall and listened. A crowd passed from the rear of the Hall to the doctor's private office. In the number were Plum, Poole, and Macklin.
"This is scandalous, scandalous!" they heard Dr. Clay say. "I never could have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes!"
"It's all right, doc.,—it's all right," came thickly from the bully of the school. "Just celebrated a little, that's all. No harm done."
"Plum, you have been drinking!"
"Only a glass of wine, sir—only one glass. Always drink wine at home."
"So do we," added Nat Poole. "Had a—a—cel'bration, just as Gus says. Pays to cel'brate sometimes—makes the a—a—brain clearer!"
"Go to my office!" thundered Dr. Clay. "I am—I am astounded!" And then the whole crowd passed out of sight and hearing.
"This is awful, and no mistake!" whispered Dave, as he and Roger crept back into the dormitory. "And little Macklin, too!"
​"They are bad eggs, no doubt about it," was the answer.
"What was it about?" came from several, as the door was closed.
"Plum, Macklin, and Poole have been caught."
"Humph! Well, I'm not sorry," said Sam Day.
"That isn't the worst of it, fellows," said Dave, soberly. "All of them have been drinking."
"Drinking!" came from several.
"Yes, and the doctor is so astonished and pained he doesn't know what to do."
"That's too bad," said Shadow. "I knew Plum liked a little now and then. But he shouldn't lead Macklin astray."
"What will the doctor do?" asked Beggs. "Perhaps he will send 'em home. It's strictly against the regulations to drink anything stronger than coffee."
The boys talked the matter over for a while, and then one after another dropped to sleep. Dave was the last to doze away.
"It's a pity they can't leave liquor alone," he told himself. "That is the way men make drunkards of themselves. First they take a little and then they take more and more, until they can't get along without it."
At breakfast on the following morning Plum, Poole, and Macklin did not appear, nor were they ​present during the day's session. No questions concerning them could be answered, and Dave and his chums really wondered if they had been sent away and for good.
Such, however, was not the case. The three had been locked up in separate rooms of the school and were given the plainest possible fare. Later on Dr. Clay brought them together and gave them a stern lecture.
"Such conduct will not be permitted at Oak Hall while I am the master here," he said. "It is without justification of any kind, and sure to give the academy a bad name. While you are here I expect each of you to conduct himself like a gentleman. You are acting against your own best interests, and if you do not understand that now you will understand it later on. I shall write home to your fathers and explain the situation, and if such a thing occurs again I shall send you home without delay. Now go to your rooms, and prepare your lessons for to-morrow." And thus they were dismissed, and glad to get away from his stern gaze.
"Phew! but I'm thankful he let us off so easily!" said Nat Poole. "I was afraid he was going to tell me to pack my grip right away. And I don't want to go home just yet."
"I don't know what my stepfather will do when he hears of it," said Macklin, gloomily. "Maybe ​he'll make me go home and work in his lumber yard. I don't want to do that."
"Write to him and tell him you didn't know what you were drinking—that somebody put up a job on you," suggested Gus Plum. "That's what I am going to do," and the letters were penned without delay.
After this happening matters moved along smoothly at Oak Hall for over a month. Having had such a "calling down" from Dr. Clay the bully and his cronies did not dare to do anything wrong, and Dave and his chums stuck to their lessons. The only break for Dave came at Thanksgiving, when he journeyed to Crumville, to eat his turkey dinner with the Wadsworths and Professor Potts.
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come," cried Jessie, dancing up to greet him. "You must tell me all about your school, and how you are getting along."
The dinner was a veritable feast, and all sat around the board two hours, eating nuts and raisins and listening to what Dave had to tell.
"Of course you haven't gotten into any scrapes?" remarked Oliver Wadsworth, with an amused twinkle in his eye.
"Not any serious ones, sir. Of course, I've had some fun—it's bound to come in a school like that."
"I know, Dave, and I don't blame you for wanting some sport. But don't neglect your studies."
​"His percentages speak for themselves," said Caspar Potts, proudly. "I don't see how they could be much better."
The old professor had improved greatly in health. He was anxious to get to work, or begin teaching again, but Oliver Wadsworth would not hear of it.
"You must rest this winter," said the manufacturer. "Then, next season, you can do as you please."
That evening there was quite a gathering at the house, including the Basswoods, who came with Ben, and the party lasted until nearly midnight. Dave was introduced to many people of Crumville he had never before met, and all treated him cordially.
"You must write me a letter every week, Dave," said Jessie, on parting. "Tell me about all you are doing."
"I can't tell you all that, Jessie," he answered. "I'll write whenever I have anything interesting," and he did.
Autumn was now a thing of the past, and erelong winter began to set in around Oak Hall. The oaks were bare of leaves, and the cold blasts sighed mournfully through the branches. Football came to an end, and so did rowing, and the students began to look forward to snow and skating.
"Last year we had great sport in the snow," said ​Buster Beggs. "We built a big snow fort and half the school defended it, while the other half tried to capture the place. The fight lasted all of Saturday afternoon, and the fort fell just as the bell rang for supper."
"Of course you weren't hit with snowballs," said Dave, with a smile.
"Not at all, only about 'steen times, and when they captured the fort I was buried under one of the falling walls and had to be hauled out by the heels. Some of the snow got down my back. I can feel the cold yet!" And Buster gave a shiver.
"I like winter sports," came from Roger. "Best of all, I love skating."
"And so do I," cried Dave. "I like to skate good long distances, too. I don't care so much for fancy skating."
"When skating is good you can go up and down the river for miles," said Phil. "We can take the trip some Saturday."
"Does Gus Plum skate?" asked another boy.
"Yes, he's a fine skater, and last year he won the prize for long-distance skating. My, but wasn't he stuck on himself after that," returned Shadow.
"He is keeping very mum just now," remarked Roger.
"That talking from the doctor has tamed him," said Phil. "But just wait, he'll break out again before long," and the big youth was right.
​Dave had turned again to his studies and was making such progress that he was now at the head of his class. Roger was just below him, and Phil and Ben were also doing well.
One windy day Dave was walking along the river bank, when some bits of half-burned paper blew towards him. Out of curiosity he picked up one of the bits and was surprised to see that it contained writing in his own hand.
"My missing composition on the 'Three Greatest Achievements of Gearge Washington'!" he murmured to himself, and it was true. "Now, how did this get here?"
He picked up several other bits of paper, and finally traced them to the remains of a small fire which had been built in a hollow among the rocks.
He looked over what there was of sheets in the ashes and sorted out sixteen unburnt bits. Nine were of his lost composition, and the others in another hand.
"I'd like to know whose hand that is," he mused. "Can it be that of Chip Macklin?"
Folding the bits of paper up he placed them in his pocket, and returned to Oak Hall. Entering one of the lower classrooms, he found the teacher and asked if he could look at some of the copy-books there.
"What is your object, Master Porter?" asked the under-teacher, pleasantly.
​"I should like to see Macklin's handwriting."
"Oh! Well, here is a composition he just handed in," and then the teacher turned away, for he was busy.
Dave compared the composition with the odd bits of paper and at once reached the conclusion that both had been written by the sneak of the school. He handed the composition back to the teacher, and hurried away. Outside he asked for Macklin, and learned that the boy was up in his dormitory. Going up he found the sneak and Gus Plum together, and both talking earnestly.
"What do you want here?" demanded Plum, sourly, as Dave entered.
"I want to talk to Macklin, Plum. Can I see you alone?" he asked of the sneak.
"What do you want?" was Macklin's question, in alarm.
"I guess you know well enough. Do you want to see me alone or not?"
"I—I don't want to see you at all, Porter," faltered the sneak.
"What do you want of him?" demanded the bully, arising and confronting Dave.
"That is my business, not yours, Plum."
"Macklin is under my protection. If you have anything to say, say it in front of me."
"Do you want me to do that?" asked Dave, of the sneak.
​"Ye—es."
"Very well, then, I'll speak. Macklin, I have found you out. You stole my composition on Washington. I have proofs, and it will be useless for you to deny it."