# The Rival Pitchers/Chapter 28
#### CHAPTER XXVIII
##### THE ESCAPE

After the first shock of surprise was over Tom struggled against being taken away by his captors. He almost succeeded in breaking loose, but so many came at him, crowding close around him, that by sheer weight of numbers they formed an impassable barrier.
"It's all right, freshie, you're hooked good and proper, so don't try to get away," advised a tall youth whom he recognized as Battersby.
"All right," agreed Tom good-naturedly, though he by no means intended to give up trying to escape. But he would bide his time. 'Where are you going to take me?" he asked.
"Oh, a good place. You'll have plenty of company. Take him along, fellows. I'll go back and help capture some more. The idea of these freshies thinking they could pull off a dinner without us getting on to it. The very idea!" and Battersby laughed sarcastically. He and Gladdus had fully recovered from the electric shocks and were ​probably glad of a chance to make trouble for the freshmen.
Tom, in the midst of half a dozen sophomores, was half led, half pushed along a dark path, over the bridge and then down a walk which extended through the woods. He recognized that he was being taken toward a little summer resort on the shores of the lake.
Once he thought he saw a chance to break loose as the grips on his arms loosened slightly, but when he attempted it he was handled so roughly that he knew the sophomores had made up their minds to hold on to him at any cost.
"You're our first prisoner," explained one lad, "and for the moral effect of it we can't let you get away. You'll have company soon."
A little later Tom was thrust into a small shanty. He recognized the place as one that had been used for a soda water and candy booth at the picnic grounds, but which shack had not been opened this season yet, though others near it were in use. There was nothing doing at the grounds on this night and the resort was deserted.
"Lock the door," exclaimed some one as Tom was thrust inside. "Then a few of us will have to stand guard and the others can go back and help bring up the rest."
Tom staggered against some tables and chairs ​in the dark interior of the shack. He managed to find a place to sit down.
"We're a bright lot of lads," thought the scrub pitcher, "to be taken in after this fashion. We should have stuck together and then we could have fought off the sophs. But it's too late now. I wonder if Sid was caught?"
He listened and could hear the retreating steps of his captors. That all had not gone and that some were left on guard was indicated by the low talk, that went on outside and by the tramping about the shack of several lads.
"Can he get out?" Tom heard some one ask.
"No. The place is nailed up tight."
"Maybe I can't and maybe I can," mused Tom. "Anyhow I'm going to have a look. Wait until I strike a match."
Holding his hat as a protection, so that no gleams would penetrate possible cracks in the door, Tom struck a light and examined the walls of his prison. The shack consisted of only one room and was cluttered up with chairs, tables, benches, counters and other things. Tom at once eliminated from his plan of escape the front, as there he knew the sophomores would remain on guard. He must try either the sides or the back. The sides, he saw, were out of the question, as they contained only small windows, hardly big enough for him to get ​through. In addition the casements were closed by heavy wooden shutters, nailed fast.
"No use trying them," thought Tom. "The back is the only place."
This he examined with care, and to his delight he saw what he thought would enable him to get out. This was an opening near the top, and it was closed by a thin wooden shutter swinging on a hinge.
"It's nailed fast," Tom remarked when, by dint of lighting many matches inside his hat, he had examined the shutter. "But I can reach it by standing on two chairs, and if I can get it open, I can crawl out and drop to the ground. But how am I going to pull out those big nails?"
Indeed it did seem impossible, but Tom was ingenious. His fingers, when he had thrust his hands into his pockets, had touched his keen-bladed knife, the one that had gotten him into trouble about the wire and which had been returned to him by the proctor.
"I can cut away the wood around the nails," he thought, and at once he put his plan into operation. He managed to get two chairs, one on top of the other, and mounting upon this perch, he attacked the shutter. Fortunately the wood was soft, and working in the darkness by means of feeling with his fingers around the nails, Tom soon had one spike cut free of the shutter. Then he began on the ​others, and in half an hour he could raise the solid piece of wood. A breath of the fresh night air came to him.
"No glass in it," he exclaimed softly. "That's good. Now to get away and show up at the dinner. I hope they didn't get any other fellows. They haven't brought any more here, that's sure."
He listened at the door a moment.
"I wish some of our fellows would come back," he heard one of the guards saying.
"Yes, it's lonesome here. I wonder if Parsons is still there?"
"Sure he is. How could he get away?"
"That's so. He couldn't."
"Wait a bit," whispered Tom.
He again mounted the chairs, and pulling himself up by the edge of the opening, after fastening up the shutter, he prepared to crawl through and drop down outside.
"I hope it isn't much of a fall and that the ground is soft," he murmured.
Just then he heard a commotion in front of the shack.
"They're bringing up some more of our class," he reasoned. "Maybe I can help 'em. Had I better stay in?" He was undecided, and he remained on the edge of the window, partly inside and partly outside the shanty. He heard the door open, and looking back in the semi-darkness, saw that a ​struggle was going on. He guessed that the sophomores were trying to thrust inside one or more freshmen. Then another shout told Tom that his escape was discovered.
"I'll drop down outside," he decided, "and see what I can do toward a rescue."
He looked down. In the gloom below the high window was a figure.
"Look out, soph, I'm going to drop on you!" cried Tom warningly. He heard a half-smothered exclamation and then he let go, prepared to defend himself against recapture.
The fall was longer than he anticipated, for there was a depression at the back of the cabin. He toppled in a heap, and before he could straighten up, he saw some one rushing toward him. Then around the corner of a shack came two figures, one carrying a lantern.
"What's up?" they cried together.
Tom was aware that the dark figure which he had seen underneath the window was jumping toward him. The light of the lantern shone full on Tom's face. He was in the act of struggling to his feet when he felt some one kick him in the side, and as the toe of a heavy shoe came against his right elbow with crushing force the pain made Tom cry out.
The lantern swung in a circle and by the light ​of it Tom, glancing up, saw Langridge standing over him. It was he who had administered the kick. Then the light appeared to fade away, and Tom felt a strangely dizzy feeling. He seemed to be sinking into a bottomless pit.