CHAPTER VIII

PROFESSOR SNODGRASS

Momentary silence followed the rather disconcerting remark made by Ned after his discovery. Then Jerry asked:

“Are you sure about that? Look around. Maybe there’s another sign-board somewhere else that gives information about Fordham.”

“This is the only one there is,” declared Ned, flashing his light about, “and it doesn’t intimate that such a place as Fordham even exists.”

“Then we must have come the wrong road!” exclaimed Bob.

“Oh, fine! How’d you guess it? That’s a brilliant head you have!” said Ned, rather sarcastically.

“Well, it isn’t my fault,” observed Bob. “I wasn’t guiding the car.”

“No, I s’pose it’s up to me,” admitted Jerry. “Though I’m sure I took the turn that last fellow we asked told us to take.”

“Yes, you did all right,” agreed Ned. “It was that farmer who misdirected us. I beg your pardon, Bob, for jumping at you that way. But it makes me mad to think we’ve gotten on the wrong road, and we won’t get to Boxwood until after supper.”

“Getting hungry?” asked Jerry. “That’s Chunky’s role, you know.”

“Roll or bread--I’d be glad of either,” said Ned. “Yes, I am hungry. I didn’t eat as much lunch as you fellows did. Now go ahead, Bob, and lay it into me. I deserve it.”

Bob reached under the rear seat and held up a package.

“I’ll lay this into you, Ned,” he laughed.

“What is it?” asked the complaining one.

“Grub! Sandwiches, cake and so on.”

“Grub!” Jerry exclaimed. “Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, I had the waiter in the restaurant put it up for me. I thought we might get hungry before supper, but I didn’t think we would get lost. It’ll come in handy, won’t it?”

“It’ll come in stomachicly, to coin a new word,” declared Ned. “Chunky, if ever I say anything again about your eats, just you remind me of this occasion.”

“All right,” agreed the stout youth.

“Well, we won’t starve, that’s sure,” Jerry said. “But the question is which road are we to take?”

“Neither one of these, I vote,” said Bob. “They don’t go where we want to go. I say, let’s go back until we get to another cross highway, and that may have a sign on that we didn’t notice before which will direct us to Fordham.”

“I guess Bob’s right,” conceded Jerry. “Back we go.”

“And we can eat on the way,” Bob went on; and neither of his chums joked him this time.

Somewhat disappointed and chagrined at the outcome of their automobile trip, or rather, at the prospective outcome, the boys put back. They had counted on arriving at Boxwood Hall in some “style” with their big car. Not that the three chums cared so much about showing off, but they felt they had a right to make a certain impression, since, according to present plans, they were to remain at the college for some time.

But now they would arrive after dark, and they would be met by strange professors and college officials (all save Professor Snodgrass), they would be late for supper, and would have no chance to view the college until morning.

“Hang that farmer, anyhow!” murmured Jerry.

“I wish he had to go without his suppers for a week,” added Ned.

“Oh, we’re not so badly off,” declared Bob, as he was munching a sandwich.

“Bob wouldn’t want any one condemned to go without food,” said Jerry. “Well, I suppose it was my own fault in a way. I should have consulted the map after that fellow told us which turn to take. We’ll know better next time.”

“There’s a house,” remarked Ned. “Suppose we inquire there.”

“No!” decided Jerry. “That’s a farmer’s house, and I won’t trust any more farmers. I’ll go on back to the last turn we made. There’s a garage not far from there, and they’ll know the road, that’s sure.”

It was not a long ride back to the place where Jerry felt they had made the wrong turn, and a few minutes more took them to the garage. But it was now quite dark.

“Fordham--um, yes,” said the garage man, reflectively. “I should say you _did_ take the wrong turn!”

“Well, please tell us how to take the right one,” begged Jerry.

“The right one happens to be a left one,” said the man with a laugh. Then he gave them the proper directions, and said they ought to be at Boxwood Hall in about an hour.

“Come on!” cried Ned, as they started away once more. “On with the dance!”

“Speaking of dances, I wonder if they ever have any at the college?” asked Bob, reflectively.

“Sure they do!” exclaimed Ned, who of late had taken up fox-trotting. “Didn’t the catalogue say that all proper facilities were given for the best social life. And what is social life, I’d like to know, without a dance now and then?”

“I guess you’ll get your share of it,” remarked Jerry, his eyes on the road ahead, for it was an unfamiliar one to him, and, though the garage man had said it was a fine, straight highway, Jerry was taking no chances. The powerful electric lights made a fine illumination far ahead.

Now it might have been reasonably expected that Fate, if you choose to call it such, having dealt our heroes one blow, would refrain from giving them another, at least for a while. But it was not to be.

About a half hour after having left the garage they came to an obstruction across the road. It was in the form of a big sawhorse such as is used in cities to block streets when repair work is being done. From the barrier hung a red lantern.

“Hello! What does this mean?” asked Jerry, bringing the car up with a screeching of brakes.

“Looks like danger,” observed Bob.

“There’s some kind of a sign,” said Ned. “I’ll get out and read it.”

With his pocket flashlight he inspected a placard that was tacked on the big sawhorse.

“It says the bridge just ahead is being repaired, and can’t be used,” Ned called back to his chums. “And it says to go back half a mile, and take the road to the left.”

“Well, if this isn’t luck!” cried Jerry. “Will we ever get to Boxwood Hall?”

“There’s no help for it,” remarked Ned. “We can’t go over a dangerous bridge, that’s sure. The only thing to do is to go back. It won’t delay us much, as the road the sign mentions isn’t a five minutes’ ride back.”

“No, but it may take us on a roundabout way,” objected Jerry. “That’s what I’m thinking of. But I guess it’s the only thing we can do. I reckon the garage man didn’t know about the bridge.”

So back they turned for the second time, and, following the directions, they took the road to the left, speeding along as fast as they dared.

“Who proposed this auto trip, anyhow?” grumbled Ned.

“I did,” confessed Jerry. “But I guess it would have been better to have come by train, and have had a chauffeur bring our car on later. I’m sorry, fellows, that----”

“Oh, it’s all right,” Ned hastened to say. “I was only joking. I don’t know what’s the matter with me to-night. I seem to be on the outs all around.”

“It’s your liver,” said Jerry with a laugh. “I don’t hold it against you.”

“Fox-trotting is good for it,” observed Bob.

“Good for what?” demanded Ned.

“Sluggish and torpid livers. I guess that’s what you’ve got.”

“Get out!” laughed Ned. “I only have one liver.”

They sped along, and presently a new moon showed above the horizon, shining now and then through the masses of scudding clouds. The road was good, and Jerry had turned the wheel over to Ned, as the latter had not driven much that day, and Jerry was rather tired from the strain.

They came to the top of a little hill, and saw, not far away, a group of buildings revealed in the moonlight.

“There she is!” exclaimed Bob. “There’s Boxwood Hall!”

Jerry and Ned peered at the structures.

“It doesn’t look like the pictures,” declared Ned, dubiously.

“Just what I was going to say,” remarked Jerry. “It doesn’t look a bit like Boxwood Hall.”

“What else could it be?” asked Bob.

“I don’t know, unless some of the buildings have been destroyed since that catalogue came out. But if that had happened Professor Snodgrass would have told us,” Ned declared.

“Well, we’ll see in a few minutes,” observed Jerry.

They motored on until they came to where a gateway at the roadside led up to the group of buildings they had noticed, and then, in the glare of their headlights they read over the arch:

KENWELL MILITARY ACADEMY

For a moment no one spoke. Then Jerry burst out with:

“Well, what in the world is happening to us?”

“We’re jinxed!” cried Ned.

Bob said nothing.

“Why don’t you add to the general hilarity?” asked Jerry.

“Well, I--I’m--stumped!” murmured the stout lad.

“If that’s all you can think of to say you might better have kept still,” laughed Ned. “We sure have been up against it to-day!”

“About as bad luck as we ever had,” admitted Jerry. “Still it might be worse.”

“The worst is yet to come,” quoted Bob, with a laugh. They all joined in, for, after all, there was a funny side to the whole thing.

“Did that sign where the red lantern was say the left road went to Fordham?” asked Jerry.

“No, it didn’t say that,” admitted Ned. “But it didn’t say anything about any other road. There wasn’t any choice.”

“Well, I’m going to get this straight now,” said Jerry, in a determined tone. “I’m going up to that academy and get them to draw us a plan of the right road to take. No more mistakes for me!”

“Here’s some one coming now,” remarked Bob. Into the glare of the headlights came a man. He stepped to one side, to get out of the too brilliant illumination.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Jerry, “but we are trying to find Boxwood Hall, near Fordham. Can you direct us to it?”

“Boxwood Hall! Of course I can. I am an instructor there, but I have had the misfortune to----”

Something in the voice caused the boys to give a simultaneous shout of:

“Professor Snodgrass! It’s Professor Snodgrass!”