Chapter 10 A HAY STACK FIRE

Cold, wet and altogether miserable, Tom and his chums stood in the farmer's yard, waiting for they scarcely knew what. Their reception had been anything but cordial, and, considering that they were unaware that they had done any damage to the field of corn, it was almost unwarranted.

"Well, what do you know about this?" asked Bert, as he took off his cap and dashed the rain drops from it.

"I don't know much," replied Jack, dubiously as he turned the collar of his coat closer up around his neck.

"He's a cheerful chap-not," murmured George.

"He might at least treat us decently," said Tom, and there was a note of defiance in his voice. "If we've damaged his corn I'm willing to pay for it, but he might at least direct us to the road."

"That's right," chimed in Jack. "What's he doing now?"

"Getting a lantern, from the looks of things," replied Bert. The farmer had gone to the barn and in a few moments he returned carrying a light that swung to and fro, casting queer fantastic shadows on the rain-soaked ground.

"Now I'll see what sort of damage ye done t' my corn!" grumbled the man. "I don't see what right a passel of youngsters have t' tramp through a man's field for, anyhow?"

"We got lost, I told you!" exclaimed Tom, a bit provoked. "We didn't do it on purpose. If we've done any damage we're responsible for it."

"Yes, I know what that means!" sneered the man. By this time he was at the fence over which the boys had leaped into his yard, and, swinging the lantern about, he endeavored to see how much damage had been done to his corn.

"Tromped down! A whole passel of ye tromped it down!" he muttered. "I thought so, an' that's my best field, too! I've a notion t' have ye arrested fer trespass."

"Oh, be sensible," ripped out Tom, who was fast losing his temper, a thing that seldom occurred to him. "Tell us what the damage is, and I'll settle. And then tell us how we can get on the river road, and back to Elmwood Hall."

"Huh! A nice lot of school boys you are!" sneered the, man. "Th' fust thing they ought t' teach ye is manners! Spilin' a man's corn!"

"Can't you say what the damage is?" put in Jack.

"No, I can't-not until mornin', anyhow."

"Then tell us how to get on the right road, and you can send your bill to Elmwood Hall. Fairfield is my name-Tom Fairfield," cried our hero.

"Oh, I'll send you the bill all right," snapped the farmer. "I'll attend to that, and ye'll pay th' last cent due, too, let me tell you that!"

"All right," agreed Tom with a sigh. "I suppose you'll charge us double, but we've got to expect that from such as you."

"What do you mean?" snapped, the man swinging his lantern up so he could see Tom's face.

"You know what I mean! You don't seem to want to be reasonable. Now, if it's all the same to you, will you kindly direct us to the right road? And as soon as your bill comes in I'll settle it, though I want to say that we had no idea of injuring your corn, and wouldn't have gotten into your field but that we got lost."

"Huh! That's a likely story. I know you fresh young school squabs!"

"Oh, where's the road?" asked Tom impatiently. "We don't care much for your opinions!"

"Find it yourself!" snapped the man. "I'll not show you, and the sooner you get off my property the better for you!"

"Humph! I can't say that I admire your disposition," spoke Tom, in exasperation, for he was cold and wet, and the prospect of reporting in late, and making a failure of the cross-country run, was not pleasant.

"None of your sass!" growled the man. "Be off, now, or I'll turn the dogs loose!"

With another took at the trampled rows of corn he went into the house, taking the lantern with him, and shutting the door after him. It seemed darker than ever in the farmyard with the light gone, and the rain was coming down in torrents.

"Nice prospect!" murmured George.

"What are we going to do?" asked Bert.

"He's the man with the original grouch all right," contributed Jack.

"Where'll we go?"

"Over this way!" called Tom, who had been looking about. "I think I see something like a gate leading into a lane. It may take us to a road. Come on."

They followed him, splashing through the mud puddles and darkness.

Then came a flash of lightning, which showed them the lane in question.

It did lead into the road, and a little later they were on the river

highway, headed toward the Hall.

"Let's run and get warmed up," proposed Bert, and they set off on a dog trot.

"I wonder if any of the others are as badly off as we are?" spoke Jack.

"I hope not," came from George.

"I suppose we're out of the running," remarked Bert. "It must be after eight."

"Half-past," said Tom, managing to see the dial of his watch by a lightning flash.

"Ugh!" grunted Jack. "It's all up with us."

In silence they plowed on, and a little later they saw the welcome lights of Elmwood Hall.

"Humph! Late, young gentlemen," remarked Mr. Porter, the proctor, as they filed in the gate. "Report to Doctor Meredith at once."

"It was an accident-we got lost," explained Bert.

"And a crusty old farmer wouldn't show us the road," added Tom.

"I'm sorry, but I can't help it. Report to the doctor," was all the satisfaction they received.

But the head master was not at all unkind about it. He listened to their explanation, and consoled them for their ill luck.

They managed to get something to eat, and then, paying a surreptitious visit to the rooms of some of their chums, they learned that they were fully three-quarters of an hour later in coming back than were the last of the stragglers.

"Did Sam and Nick make good time?" asked Tom, of the football captain.

"Very good, yes. They were among the first ones in. I'm sorry about you boys."

"I suppose we're out of the game," hinted Jack.

"Well, not altogether, but it'll set you back. However, I'll do what I can. Better turn in now. You must be tired."

"Tired isn't a name for it!" groaned Bert. "I'll sleep like a locomotive to-night."

They were all slumbering almost as soon as they tumbled into bed, and, though they had been well soaked, they experienced no ill effects the next morning.

To their delight the football captain and coach said nothing about their ill-luck in being outside the time limit for the cross-country run, and they went to practice as usual.

"Huh! I wonder if they call that fair?" sneered Sam, when he saw his enemy, and the latter's friends, in their usual places.

"It's not right," asserted Nick, "after we made the run, and got in on time."

"Well, you didn't get lost in the woods," said George Abbot, who was at least on speaking terms with Sam and his crony. "A farm fellow told us to take the wrong road to avoid a hill."

"Did he?" asked Sam, and there was a trace of a smile on his face. "Well, you can't always trust farm hands," and he nudged Nick in the ribs, though George did not see it.

Two days later Doctor Meredith called Tom to his office.

"There has been a complaint made against you," said the school head.

"Trampling down the corn of one-er-Jed Appleby--" went on Doctor

Meredith, reading from a memoranda. "He says you agreed to pay for it,

and his bill is-ten dollars!"

"What!" cried Tom. "We didn't do half that damage! But I'm willing to pay."

"And after this, please be careful not to annoy the farmers hereabout," warned the head of the school. "We have to guard against the students doing that."

"I'll be careful," promised Tom grimly. "Ten dollars! Whew!" he exclaimed, as he took the bill and went out. "If he got a dollar he'd be getting more than the corn we trampled was worth. But I'll not dispute it. Only I'll get square with him," he boasted to his chums.

On going to pay the amount assessed against him, Tom found that the possessions of Mr. Appleby extended to within a short distance of the school grounds. At least one of the farmer's hay fields did, being connected to a main road by a long lane.

"And if he'd been decent," mused Tom, on his way back, after settling the score, "he could have shown us the way through his hay field, and we might have gotten into the Hall on time. The old grouch!"

He cut through the lot, passing a big pile of hay that was stacked and thatched for winter.

"Well, did you fix him up?" asked Jack, as his chum entered the room on his return.

"I did-worse luck to him. Some day we'll have to have the white-caps visit him, or treat him to a coat of tar and feathers. It isn't the ten dollars that I mind so much as it is being gouged by a farmer. I'll get square though!"

It was several nights after this that Tom, gathering up some packages from his dresser, slipped on his coat and cap.

"Where you going?" asked Jack, yawning and tossing aside a book he had been pretending to study.

"Oh, just out for a walk," replied Tom, evasively.

"Want any company?"

"I'll be right back," was the remark, which would seem to indicate that company was not desired.

"All right. Bring me back some peanuts if you go past Pop's place," and Jack tossed over a dime.

Tom's chums were in bed when he returned, and without awakening them, as he supposed, he undressed in the dark and tumbled into his cot.

"That you, Tom?" murmured Jack sleepily.

"Yes."

"What smells so queer? Have you been smoking?"

"No, but I came home in a trolley and there were some fellows in it hitting the pipe."

"Oh, I thought it couldn't be you," for neither Tom nor his chums used the weed.

Jack turned over, and was soon breathing heavily, and Tom, too, was not long in getting to sleep.

It was Bert who awakened them some hours later.

"Hello fellows!" he called. "There's a fire somewhere. I can see the reflection of it on the windows."

They all jumped up, and Jack, going to the casement, exclaimed:

"It isn't here. None of the school buildings are ablaze."

"No, it's over that hill," said Bert. "I have it!" he cried. "Some of Farmer Appleby's hay ricks are on fire, or maybe a barn. Come on fellows, let's help put 'em out!"

"Oh, what's the use?" asked Tom. "It serves him right. He gouged us enough to pay for a ton of hay anyhow. Let it burn!"