CHAPTER XVI

AND LOWERS IT

What a commotion there was the next day!

Wayne and Don found the flag pole surrounded by a throng of delighted and amazed youths when they wandered unostentatiously to the front of the Academy Building on their way to chapel. What a chattering there was! Juniors hinted proudly that they knew more about it than they were inclined to impart, and that when it came to pure and artistic pranks their class “was really the only one, you know!” The lower middle fellows accepted the presence of the fluttering white banner with its derisive and unlovely emblem as a direct challenge from the juniors, and there was much talk of “punched heads.” The upper middle fellows asserted positively that it was the work of a certain secret society which, despite the rules, had to their knowledge been flourishing at Hillton for many years. The seniors--well, the seniors acted like all seniors. They viewed the flag with secret gusto and outward disgust and talked about “disgrace to the school” and “finding the fellows that did it, by Jove!” And Wayne and Don and Paddy and Dave, loud in expressions of surprise and condemnation, mingled with the throng and laughed in their sleeves.

Then every one ran for chapel and listened impatiently for the faculty’s expression of its views on the subject. They were not disappointed. When the time for announcements came, the principal disposed of the minor affairs with his usual tranquillity, and then took up the subject of the flag. Wayne and Don, Paddy and Dave, sitting together at the back of the hall, experienced a distinct sense of disappointment. Instead of taking the appearance of the skull and crossbones as a thing demanding censure and threats of expulsion, the principal ridiculed their splendid effort!

“I presume,” he remarked without any evidence of feeling, “that it is the work of some junior. It could scarcely be anything else. The trick is so little and silly that none but a very young and mistaken boy would have thought of it. Whoever put the flag up there arranged matters so that it can not be pulled down. It would be possible for us to have the topmast lowered, but as that would necessitate a large expense we shall not do it. So the flag will, of course, continue to fly there, a very fitting symbol of the school’s idea of humor, until the wind whips it to pieces. It may be that it will bring a certain amount of ridicule on the Academy, and the sight of it may arouse sensations of disgust in the breasts of sensible boys, but there is no help for it. The faculty will take no steps to discover the author or authors of the silly trick, and they will not have the satisfaction of knowing themselves to be offenders against the school authority. They are in no danger of the slightest punishment; I do not even ask them to own up to the affair or offer apologies. The incident is closed so far as the faculty is concerned. It would, however, have been more appropriate had the design on the flag been a donkey’s head; but it’s too late to change it now.”

The four conspirators walked out of chapel in a silence that held them until they parted at the steps of Warren Hall. Then Dave spoke:

“Smart, weren’t we?”

There was no reply, and the four went into breakfast feeling, as Paddy afterward put it, “like excommunicated angels.” Wayne was very silent during the forenoon and only scowled at every effort of his friends to engage him in conversation. The juniors posted a notice immediately after breakfast calling for a meeting in Society House in the evening; and the example was quickly followed by the other three classes. Indignation ran high. The humor had departed from the affair, and the prospect of having the skull and crossbones fly in front of Academy Building during the rest of the school year was most unwelcome. The four perpetrators of the trick felt this as keenly as any.

“It’s got to come down,” said Wayne doggedly, when the four congregated in 15 Bradley after lunch.

“Well, how’s it coming down?” asked Paddy.

“We were awful asses,” said Don disgustedly.

“It wasn’t exactly our fault,” answered Dave. “If ‘Wheels’ had only been decent about it! But what can you do if faculty won’t take your efforts toward enlivenment in the proper spirit?”

“Has any one tried to get the old thing down?” questioned Paddy.

“Yes, lots of fellows have tried. Wayne pulled the flag so far up that a corner of it’s fast in the pulley arrangement,” responded Don. “If he hadn’t been so keen to overdo the thing----”

“Oh, dry up! What’s the good of blaming Wayne. We were all in it equally,” said Paddy.

“Yes, that’s so,” admitted Don. “Let’s try and think of a way of getting the bloody thing down.”

“Bony thing,” corrected Dave.

“Look here, fellows, I got the thing up there--it was my idea in the first place--and I’ll get it down again.” Wayne scowled around the little circle. “All I want you fellows to do is to quit nagging. Who knows where I can get a boat hook?”

“There’s slathers of ’em in the boathouse,” said Paddy.

“Well, you get me one--a real light one. I’ll borrow Moore’s climbing irons, and after laboratory work I’ll have a try at it.”

“Can you climb?” asked Don doubtfully.

“Some,” answered Wayne. “There are spikes in the pole up as far as the crosstree. After that I’ll use the climbing irons as far as I can, and then shin the rest of the way.”

“But I don’t see what you want a boat hook for,” said Dave.

“To get hold of the flag, of course. It’s stuck in the block. If I can get the hook in it I reckon I can pull it free.”

“Oh, I see. Well, you might try.”

“I don’t think we ought to let him try,” said Don anxiously. “It’s an awful long way to the top of the thing, and it’s blowing a gale. At any rate, Wayne, you’d better wait until to-morrow. The wind might blow you off.”

“No, it’s got to be done to-day. We don’t want to attend the class meeting this evening and have to get up and tell the fellows that we did it and we’re awfully sorry, do we? We’d look like idiots! No, I’ll try it this afternoon, wind or no wind.”

“Well, look here,” exclaimed Paddy, “I was in this as much as you were, Wayne, and I’m stronger than you, and if anybody is going to climb that pole it’s going to be me!”

“No, I put it up; it was my scheme,” answered Wayne stubbornly. “I’ll get it down.”

Paddy’s remonstrances were of no avail, and the others at last gave their consent to the undertaking. Paddy promised to get the boat hook, and they agreed to meet at four o’clock and try to undo their work.

* * * * *

Paddy’s appearance at the flag pole armed with the boat hook and Wayne’s advent there with a pair of climbing irons over his arm was sufficient to draw a crowd, and soon the vicinity was thronged with curious watchers, who danced about in an endeavor to keep their feet warm or sought shelter from the cold blasts in the doorway of Academy Building. Dave and Don soon arrived, and the latter viewed with apprehension the task ahead of his chum. Far up in the air the white banner bearing the ridiculous skull and crossbones fluttered and whipped in the wind as though quite as much ashamed of its appearance as were the boys, and resolved to put an end to its luckless career with every convulsive tug at its lashings.

“I do wish Wayne wouldn’t try to climb up there,” muttered Don in Dave’s ear; but Dave was explaining the proceedings with great gusto to “Pigeon” Wallace, and so didn’t hear him. Wayne himself was strapping the irons to his stout shoes, and Paddy, looking as though he wished himself well out of the whole affair, stood by with the boat hook, to which a length of rope had been attached. Through the audience sped the startling information of Wayne Gordon’s contemplated adventure, and a murmur of excited interest arose; and boys who had absent friends sped away in search of them. As Wayne took his gloves off and put his foot on the first of the spikes that rendered more or less easy the ascent of the lower pole a wholly impromptu cheer arose and gained in volume until it resolved itself into a loud “’Rah--’rah--’rah, Gordon!”

Wayne paid no heed; he was already halfway up the great white-painted mast that terminated many feet above in a broad crosstree. It was easy going, save for the wind and the fact that the climbing irons interfered when he laid his feet on the rests. But the crosstree was quickly reached, and he pulled himself on to it, and clutching the topmast with his left arm, with the other pulled up the boat hook by means of the rope, one end of which was tied around his waist. Those below saw that after one fleeting downward glance he raised his eyes and did not again risk dizziness.

“Gee!” exclaimed Paddy, his head craned back as he gazed aloft. “See how the wind blows up there!”

“Is there any danger of the thing breaking?” asked Dave.

“Not a bit. It’s a nice new pine, and it’ll stand lots. But if Wayne gets up there and loses his grip-- Say, I wish we hadn’t let him do it!” Paddy looked with troubled eyes into Don’s pale countenance.

“Here comes the whole blamed faculty!” cried Dave, and as the group of boys turned to look Professor Wheeler, accompanied by “Turkey” and Longworth, pushed into the assemblage.

“Who is that up there?” the principal asked sternly.

“Wayne Gordon, sir,” answered a dozen voices.

“Gordon! _Gordon!_” The principal made a trumpet of his hands and shouted at the top of his lungs. “Come down at once!”

There was no answer from the figure on the crosstree. Possibly the wind was too strong to allow of the principal’s voice reaching him; possibly Wayne heard, but thought the command issued from one of the fellows. At all events his only response was to seize the slender topmast with his arms, dig his climbing irons into the wood, and start upward. The principal again shouted.

“Best let him alone, sir,” said Professor Durkee calmly. “I doubt if he can hear; but if he can ’twill only bother him and make the task more hazardous.” The principal turned sternly to the throng about the pole.

“Did none of you know better than to let him do this? Is that you there, Cunningham? I should have thought that you, for one, would have stopped him!”

There was no reply from the throng, and Don accepted the rebuke with a miserable countenance. It was Paddy who ventured a defense.

“He would go, sir. Nobody can stop Gordon when he makes up his mind, sir.” The principal’s only answer was a gesture of exasperation. Then all eyes were turned upward again.

Wayne had reached a place where, because of the slenderness of the pole, his irons were of no further use. To take them off was a difficult task, but to keep them on rendered farther progress well-nigh impossible. So he drove the spike on his right foot deep into the mast and unbuckled his left iron and threw it far out beyond the edge of the crowd below. Clinging to the pole with his legs and his left arm, he managed at last to undo the remaining iron and kick his foot free from the straps. Then he wound both legs about the mast, gripped it firmly with his hands, and began to shin upward again. He wished that he had left his shoes at the crosstree, for his stockinged feet would have gripped the wood much closer. But it was too late to think of that. The wind and the exertion had almost deprived him of breath, and now, as he reached a point some twenty feet above the crosstree, the topmast began to get woefully slim and swayed sickeningly in the wind. For an instant he stopped climbing and clung motionless. To the watchers below it seemed that he must be about to give up. The mast looked scarcely larger round than one’s arm, and the boy’s figure, a dark atom against the sullen gray of the flying clouds, swayed from side to side perilously.

But Wayne had no thought of giving up. He only paused a moment to gather breath for further effort and then went on, his feet, legs, and arms gripping the rocking pole with all their strength. One circumstance aided him: the mast had been varnished but a few days before, and presented to his hands a slightly sticky surface that made his grip surer and easier. He feared but one thing, and that was a look downward. He strove with all his might against the irresistible temptation to let his gaze drop for just a fraction of a second; he knew that if he yielded vertigo would master him. So far he had been successful, but now, with his task almost accomplished, the golden ball but a few feet above him, something seemingly stronger than his will forced him to lower his head. He stopped climbing again and, with despair at his heart, clung tightly to the swaying mast. His eyes dropped to the roof of the neighboring laboratories, to the ice-covered walk that led to Academy Building, to the edge of the throng!

A murmur of dismay and apprehension crept through the crowd. For a moment the March tempest was stilled, and in that moment, faint, and as though from a great distance, came a cry from below:

“_Keep agoing, Old Virginia!_”

Wayne recognized Paddy’s deep voice. With a rush the blood drove back to the boy’s chilled heart. He gave a gasp, threw back his head, and found himself staring at the golden ball, which, for the first time, seemed to beckon him upward. Arms and legs responded strongly to his demand, and inch by inch the remaining distance was won.

Some five feet from the swaying tip he again paused and gripped the mast, now scarcely more than a rod, and again hauled up the boat hook. The skull and crossbones flared and snapped loudly and derisively. Taking a firm hold of the mast with his left hand, he reached forward the long shaft. The first effort drove the hook through a corner of the white cloth; the first tug freed it from the pulley block, and with a rush the hook and flag came down. But Wayne was careful not to let the former drop. Holding it firmly, he started to descend, the flag following. And from the throng below broke a cheer that was quickly hushed lest it confuse the boy. But the rest was simple and the crosstree was quickly gained. The wind, as though angry at having been deprived of its seeming prey, lashed and whirled at him as he dropped easily and quickly from one foot rest to another. A few feet from the ground the boy paused and detached the flag from the rope. Then he stepped down into the throng. A dozen pairs of arms were outstretched to him and a rousing cheer went up. Don, pale and trembling, thrust himself through the crowd roughly and threw one arm around his shoulders.

“Wayne!” he whispered huskily.

Wayne smiled lightly back at him and pushed forward. He met a glance of sly understanding from Professor Durkee’s little gray eyes and a nod of approval. Then the principal was speaking.

“That was bravely done, Gordon, and we owe you thanks. But don’t try anything of the sort again.”

Wayne met the principal’s grave eyes and grinned.

“I won’t, sir. But nobody owes any thanks. You see, I put it up there!”