CHAPTER IV.

GUS HAS A BENEFIT.

GUS took a few moments in which to think over this extraordinary proposition. He was well aware that all the students had by this time heard of the meanness of which he had been guilty—if there chanced to be any who were ignorant of it they would not remain long so—and the idea of facing them and saving himself from disgrace by a bold denial was something that had never occurred to him. The audacity of the thing pleased him.

"I declare, Simp," said he, at length, "two heads are better than one, if one is a red-head. I was afraid that the fellows would make things so uncomfortable for me that I would have to leave school; but I have a different opinion now. If Bob says anything about the oar I can say, you know, that he wants to injure me, and ask him to produce his evidence."

"That's the very idea," assented Simpson.

"Don't lisp a word of what you have told me to anyone else," said Gus. "We mustn't let it get out."

"Ah! Trust me for that. Do you think I am a greenhorn?"

Gus, feeling as if a heavy weight had been removed from his shoulders, walked off snapping his fingers, and Simpson stood congratulating himself on his shrewdness—he never thought to give Scotty any credit for it—when, happening to cast his eye toward the academy, he saw a sight that filled him with great consternation.

A crowd of students were coming from the direction of the carpenter's shop, and the foremost of them, Claxton by name, who had acted as spokesman of the group he had met a short time before, carried over his shoulder the identical oar which had been stolen from the closet and so carefully hidden in the lumber-pile. Simpson knew it the instant he put his eyes on it. His under jaw dropped down, and for a moment or two he stood staring at Claxton as if he could hardly make up his mind whether he was awake or dreaming. Then it flashed upon him again that he had done just what Scotty predicted he would do—revealed his complicity in an affair which, should it reach the ears of the faculty, would cause his expulsion from the academy.

"Simp," said an angry voice close at his elbow.

The culprit turned and found Scotty at his side.

"Simp, look there!" said the latter, pointing toward the academy door through which Claxton was just disappearing with the oar. "What did I tell you? You're not a greenhorn, are you?"

"Oh, now, Scotty, you just want to clear out," exclaimed Simpson, who, when taken to task either by the professors or the students, always fell back on the line of defense he had suggested to Gus Layton. "I would like to know why you fellows always pounce upon me when anything goes wrong about the academy?"

"Simply because you know you are the guilty one, that's why. What induced you to tell Claxton where that oar was hidden?"

"I didn't tell him. I haven't spoken to him in a month," declared Simpson, earnestly.

"Then how did he find it out? I didn't tell him."

"I don't know how he found it out. Perhaps he was watching us when we hid the oar."

"That's highly probable," replied Scotty, with a sneer. "Good-bye, Simp; you'll not do to tie to. I have at last satisfied myself of that fact. I don't know what Layton will do to you."

Simpson didn't know, either, and that was what troubled him just then more than anything else. Believing it best to keep out of sight for a while, he made his way out of the academy grounds without being discovered and directed his course toward the village of Elmwood, which lay about a mile distant. Having no other way of passing the time he roamed about the streets until seven o'clock, and then with great reluctance turned his face toward the academy. The buildings were closed at half-past seven, and all the students who were not in their dormitories at that hour were obliged to account for their absence to the professors the next morning.

As Simpson was passing the wharf he saw the little steamer which plied up and down the coast getting under way. The gangplank had been hauled in, the lines cast off, and then, in obedience to some hurried orders, the plank was once more shoved out again and the steamer made fast to the wharf. At the same time a hack, driven at furious speed, came down the road from the direction of the academy, and it was in response to the shouts of the driver and the frantic signals of some one inside that the steamer had delayed her departure. Simpson had a good view of the passenger, who was leaning more than half-way out of the window flourishing his hand-kerchief, and his heart gave a great bound when he saw that it was Gus Layton. He watched him until he was safe on board the vessel, saw the porters take charge of his baggage, and then hurried out of the village with a much lighter heart than he had brought into it.

"Thank goodness he is gone and I am safe!" said Simpson, to himself. "I do not know what the other fellows will do to me, but of one thing I am satisfied—they'll not beat me."

Yes, Gus was gone, and that, too, with the determination of never coming back. His departure had been hastened by something that transpired at the academy shortly after his interview with Simpson. He saw Claxton when he went into the building with the oar, and he noticed, too, that while the Whites still wore their colors, there was not a Blue rosette to be seen. Even Scotty's impudence could not hold out in the face of public opinion so generally and forcibly expressed, and he had thrown aside his Blue rosette; and, furthermore, he seemed anxious to avoid Gus, for when he saw him coming he slipped around the building and out of sight.

"Rats desert a sinking ship," said Gus, enraged at the conduct of his man Friday. "I must be getting low down in the world when such fellows as Scotty go back on me."

As Gus entered the hall he saw Bob and his victorious crew surrounded by a crowd of students, who were congratulating them on their success, and among the most enthusiastic Gus was surprised to see three of his own men, Sprague, Haight and Bright. They seemed to have eyes and ears for no one but the members of the winning crew—there was not one of them who took the least notice of him. Gus knew the meaning of this, and it was more than he could stand. Hastily leaving the academy, he made the best of his way to the boat-house. Pausing a moment to look at the Mist, once his pride and delight, but which now lay in her dock shattered and half-filled with water, Gus passed into a little anteroom, in which the club held their meetings, and sat down to think over his troubles and determine upon some course of action. Scarcely was he seated when the door opened, admitting Sprague, Haight and Bright.

"Well, old fellow," said Sprague, throwing his leg over the table beside which Gus was sitting, "here's a pretty kettle of fish. We're beaten out of sight, and come back to find all sorts of stories and resolutions afloat. The boys have sent you to coventry."

"I am aware of it," said Gus, bitterly. "I saw it very plainly when I was in the hall just now. I have some traitor to thank for this, and I only wish that I could find him. I would give him a lesson he would not soon forget."

"Do you really wish to know who it was that put Bob on his guard?"

"Of course I do!" exclaimed Gus, starting up in his chair. "If you will tell me who it was I will make him repent it in less than five minutes. Who was it?"

"Well, sir," said Sprague, folding his arms and looking Gus squarely in the eye, "I am the fellow! I would do the same thing again, under like circumstances."

Gus was so utterly confounded by this bold and unexpected declaration that he could neither move nor speak. He sat staring blankly at Sprague, hardly able to comprehend that he had heard aright. He showed no inclination to carry out the threat he had just made, for Sprague was two years older than himself, and, furthermore, he had been through some tight places.

"Perhaps I ought to add a word by way of explanation," continued Sprague. "When you told us what your father had done by your request, we three fellows, who are now here, got together and talked the matter over. The only thing that kept us from withdrawing from your crew was the fact that we wanted this matter of the championship decided, and in order that it might be decided fairly we thought that some one had better speak to Bob, and I was the one selected to do it. I mentioned no names, but told him if he was wise he would carefully examine his shell and everything belonging to her before he took her out of the boat-house. I judge he did so, for he rowed the race with his old oars."

"And then you fellows played off on me and let him beat!" said Gus, angrily.

"No, we did not. We pulled our level best. The Zephyrs beat us, and they can beat any crew that can be raised in this academy. Somehow, the part you and your father have played has become known, and there's no one who approves of it, unless it be some contemptible fellow like Simp or Scotty, who has no honor about him. Things look squally, Gus, and I tell you plainly that if you stop here you must make up your mind to swim in the hottest kind of water."

"But I'll not stay here!" cried Gus, suddenly jumping to his feet. "I'll be on my way home in less than an hour!"

Without saying another word to his companions Gus ran out of the boat-house. He hunted up the janitor and sent him for a carriage, and then, hurrying to his dormitory, began packing his wardrobe into his trunk. The news that he was getting ready to leave the academy quickly spread among the students, who, thinking it was a good time to show their opinion of him, went quietly to work to get up a "benefit" for him. Bob and Sprague and a few of the order-loving ones did all they could to prevent it; but seeing that the students were not to be turned from their purpose, they withdrew to their rooms, so that they might not seem by their presence to countenance any such proceeding.

By the time the carriage arrived everything was arranged. When Gus descended the stairs he found the students drawn up four deep on each side of the hall, and so loud were the yells of derision, so deafening the tooting of tin horns and banging of tin pans when he made his appearance, that the horses attached to the hack took fright and Gus came very near being left behind. He did manage, however, to spring upon the steps just as the horses started off, and banging the door after him, he sank down into the farthest corner and stopped his ears with his hands.

"Bob is at the bottom of this," said he to himself when the noise had been left behind, "and if he don't suffer for it it will be because I can't make him. School will be out in a week, and by the time he gets home I will have everything fixed for him. The house his father once owned belongs to _my_ father now, and Bob, while he stays there, shall be reminded of the fact a thousand times a day. But he shall not stay there long. I'll get rid of him somehow. I'll send him so far on the other side of the world that he'll never find his way back again."

This was a plan that Gus had been revolving in his mind for months—ever since the death of Bob's father. He believed that when he had once seen the last of him his troubles would all be over. His cousin had never in his life injured him by word or deed. There was not a single act of his to which Gus could point that was in any way detrimental to him; and yet he hated him—hated him because he was so popular everywhere, especially at the academy; because it came as natural and easy to him as it does to an Indian to hate a white man. The starting-point of this hatred was a fierce quarrel which his father had with Mr. Nellis in the years gone by. It originated over some money which Mr. Nellis, who was at that time a sailor, had placed in the hands of his brother-in-law for safe-keeping. The money disappeared, and not only Mr. Nellis, but everyone else who knew anything of the circumstances, believed that Mr. Layton had appropriated it to his own use.

In process of time Mr. Nellis left the sea and became a prosperous merchant in Clifton, his native village. When he retired from active business he made his brother-in-law his agent, and gave him full control of his affairs. He thought that the breach between them had been closed forever; but no one else thought so—not even Bob, who, boy as he was, believed that Mr. Layton was only awaiting a favorable opportunity to take a terrible revenge on his father. The sequel proved that he was right in this opinion, and that Mr. Layton had been secretly plotting for years to ruin his generous brother-in-law.

Gus, knowing how matters stood—for his father often conferred with him—took up the cudgel against Bob, as he believed himself in honor bound to do, and made his life as unpleasant for him as he could. Now he had a wider field for his operations. Mr. Nellis was out of the way, the property was all in his father's hands, and if Mr. Layton chose to say the word Bob had not where to lay his head. Gus was resolved that his father should say that word, if he could by any means induce him to do so, and if not, he would say it himself, and back it up with actions so effectual that nobody should ever hear of Bob Nellis again. Gus thought of it all the way home, and by the time the spires of Clifton came in sight he had decided upon a plan of operations which promised to do the business for Bob in fine style.