CHAPTER III
A QUEER CHARACTER

A chorus of laughter broke out among the students. It certainly was mirth-provoking to see that picture in place of the fire and clouds of smoke from the volcano. The class was in an uproar.

Professor Long waited patiently until the noise had subsided. He even allowed the wrong slide to remain on the screen. The boys finally ceased laughing. Then the instructor spoke.

“I presume that was done as a joke,” he said. “If so I think it was a very poor one. I don’t mind fun, but I like it in the right place. A certain amount is good, even in the schoolroom.”

His tone was sarcastic now, and Ned began to feel a little uncomfortable.

“You young gentlemen,” and he seemed to hesitate at the word, “you young gentlemen are sent here to learn. If you can do so and have fun, all right. I am paid by the city to teach you. I am expected to put a certain amount of knowledge into your brains. I can’t unless you let me. I’m not a magician.”

“I thought you would be interested in this lecture. It seems you would rather have a lot of horse-play and rowdyism instead. If I had known that I might have provided a different set of pictures. But not in school hours. The school authorities expect me to instruct you in physics and chemistry; not in foolishness. Young gentlemen, the lecture is over, but you can remain in your seats in the darkness until the usual hour for dismissing the class.”

This was a different ending to the joke than Ned had anticipated. It was he who had put the wrong slide in with the others, having had access to the laboratory that morning. There were several murmurs from the boys not in on the plot. They did not relish sitting in the darkness for half an hour.

Professor Long began putting away the apparatus. He withdrew the firecracker slide and turned out the stereopticon. Then Ned did a manly thing.

“Professor Long,” he called, out of the darkness. “I want to apologize to you and the class. I put the wrong picture into the pile. I’m sorry and I’ll not do it again.”

A silence ensued. The boys wondered at Ned’s pluck in acknowledging his fault. But then he and his chums were that kind of boys.

“I can’t excuse your conduct under any circumstances, Wilding,” said Professor Long, sternly. “Still I will admit I like your manliness in admitting your fault. In view of what you have said, and as it is evident the other boys had no hand in it, I will go on with the lecture. But I must ask you to withdraw, and, as a punishment you will write out fifty lines of Cæsar after school.”

It was a task that made some of the boys catch their breaths. But Ned felt he deserved it, though he said to himself the joke was worth it. He left the laboratory, and the lecture went on. He remained after school and completed his penance. Professor Long, who had some experiments to prepare for the next week’s work, had also stayed after school.

“Don’t do it again, Wilding,” was all he said, and Ned was almost sure he saw the teacher smile.

Ned found his chums waiting for him. They were a little diffident about referring to the joke, but Ned had no such scruples.

“That was a sort of a boomerang,” he remarked. “I spent fifty cents getting that slide, and to think how it turned out! Long is pretty touchy when it comes to his lectures. I guess I’ll not monkey with ’em again.”

“Well, you missed a lot of fun,” said Frank slowly. “He told us a lot of interesting stuff about volcanoes.”

“Bet none of ’em could match mine,” came from Ned, with a laugh. “Mine was up-to-date.”

“What you going to do to-morrow?” asked Bart of his friends.

“Nothing special,” replied Ned.

“Can’t we arrange a ball game?” inquired Fenn.

“I tried to but couldn’t,” said Bart. “Supposing we all go fishing?”

“Fine!” was the general cry.

“All right, meet at the Point, with lines and poles, at nine o’clock to-morrow and we’ll go to the Riffles.”

The Point was a tongue of land extending out into the river about a mile above the town. It was a favorite place for swimming as there was a sort of sandy beach there. The Riffles were a series of shallow spots about two miles above the point, and from there on up was good fishing. The river near the Riffles ran through a dense woods which were seldom visited.

Promptly on time the boys were at the meeting place. They had with them everything needed for a day’s fishing, from bait and poles to a lunch for themselves, as they did not intend coming back until afternoon.

The boys tramped through the woods toward the fishing holes, which they had often visited. They were talking of the events of the previous day at school, and Ned was explaining over again how he substituted the wrong picture slide.

“Here, where are you boys going?” a voice suddenly hailed them from the bushes that lined the path they were traveling.

They looked up, to see an old man, with a white straggling beard, which fell almost to his waist, peering at them. He was half hidden by the underbrush.

“Where you going?” he repeated.

“Fishing,” replied Ned.

“Whereabouts?”

“Up at the Riffles,” said Fenn.

“Better not,” cautioned the aged person. “It’s a dangerous place.”

The man stepped forth into full view. The boys saw he was poorly dressed. His trousers were quite ragged and his coat was torn in several places. He wore no hat.

“What makes you think so?” asked Frank.

“Don’t let it be known,” the old man went on, “but the King of Paprica holds dominion over the Riffles. He has forbidden any one, under pain of being fed to the sacred crocodile, from taking the green bull frog from the pool.”

“He’s crazy,” whispered Bart.

“But we’re after fish, not bull frogs,” interposed Frank, who seemed inclined to humor the strange man.

“Oh, in that case, don’t forget to bait your hooks with soft soap,” said the old man, as he held up a warning finger. “Now remember, not a word to the King of Paprica if you meet him. He knows I’m here on guard, so don’t tell him,” and with that the old man, winking at Frank as though there was a good joke between them, vanished amid the bushes.

“Well, of all queer things,” said Ned softly.

“He’s daffy,” spoke Bart. “Escaped from some asylum, I suppose. However he looks harmless. Come on, we don’t want to get mixed up with him. We’re out for fish.”

“I’d like to find out more about him,” came from Frank. “He winked at me as though it was some sort of a trick.”

“Yes, the kind Ned played yesterday,” exclaimed Frank.

“No more from yours truly,” uttered the perpetrator of the wrong slide. “No more jokes for a while. I’m going fishing. Come on.”

CHAPTER IV
A HUT IN THE WOODS

The boys tried to learn in which direction the old man had gone, but he was not in sight. They listened to hear if he was tramping through the bushes, but there was not a sound.

“Looks as though he went through a hole in the earth,” spoke Fenn. “But never mind. His keepers are probably after him. He seems harmless enough.”

“Sometimes that’s the worst kind,” commented Ned. “We had better be on the lookout for him. He might come upon us unexpectedly.”

But the boys reached the Riffles a little while after this, and, in the excitement of hauling out a number of fish, for the sport was good, they forgot about the queer old man.

“I wonder who he could have been?” asked Frank, after a silence of half an hour following the landing of several chub and perch.

“Who?” asked Ned.

“The King of Paprica.”

“Oh, him. I’d forgotten all about it. What makes you keep thinking of it?”

“I can’t help it,” replied Frank, so solemnly that his chums looked at him in some surprise.

“I believe there is something about that man which will bear investigating. No one ever heard of a crazy person being loose in these woods before, and there’s no lunatic asylum near by from which he could have escaped. I tell you it looks queer.”

“Sometimes lunatics travel hundreds of miles,” put in Bart. “I read of one, once, that escaped, and was found a good while afterward in some place in Europe.”

“Say, did we come here to talk about odd folks or to fish?” asked Ned somewhat sharply. “If we’re going to fish let’s do it. All this talk will scare ’em away.”

“That’s what I say,” added Fenn. “Let’s finish up and go home.”

“Got a date to take a walk and gather wild flowers with some girl, Stumpy?” asked Frank.

“Well, it’s as much fun as talking about a crazy man,” retorted Fenn.

“Whoop! I’ve got a big one!” ejaculated Ned, and he pulled a wiggling beauty ashore.

It was the best catch so far, and the other boys congratulated Ned on his luck. Several other large-sized fish were pulled out after that until the boys’ baskets were nearly full.

“Haven’t we got plenty?” asked Frank. “Let’s quit and eat.”

“Good enough!” exclaimed Bart. “I’ve got a vacancy just beneath my belt,” and he patted the region of his stomach in a suggestive manner.

Frank, who had charge of the lunch basket, into which the boys had put what they had brought from home, opened it. As he was handing around the sandwiches there was a noise in the bushes behind where the lads were seated. They started, thinking it might be the strange man again, but they were relieved when they saw it was Jim Nelson, who had the reputation of being the laziest boy in town.

“Hello, Jim,” called Ned.

“Um,” grunted Jim. It seemed too much of an effort to speak. “Bait?” he asked, with a motion toward his own fishing tackle which he carried over his shoulder.

“Well, if you aren’t the limit!” exclaimed Ned. “You started off fishing and depended on finding some one to lend you the bait. Too lazy to dig it, I suppose?”

“Tired,” responded Jim, as if that explained it all. “Throw over,” he added, which the boys construed into a request that the bait can be passed over, since Jim had flopped down in a comfortable attitude on the bank.

“The very nerve of you makes you a delight,” spoke Bart as he tossed the tin can where Jim could get it. The bait fell a little out of the lazy lad’s reach. Instead of getting up for it he looked around in search of a stick with which he could poke it toward himself. There was one near his foot.

Jim reached out until he could touch the tree branch with the toe of his shoe. Then he manipulated the little club until he could get his fingers on it, which took several minutes. Once it was in his hands he managed to reach the bait can and drew it toward him. All this while he was stretched out on his back.

Still in this position he baited his hook and then, without looking to see where it landed, he threw the weighted line in the direction of the river. The hook struck just on the edge of the bank on which Jim reclined, but he could not see this and thought it had dropped into the water. The chums looked on at this exhibition of laziness, though it was no new thing to them.

“Think you’ll catch anything, Jim?” asked Frank.

“Hope not, have to pull it in, and I’m tired,” responded the recumbent lad.

“Oh, we’ll do it for you,” said Bart.

“Um,” grunted Jim, that probably being his thanks.

The four comrades were munching their sandwiches, and once in a while Jim would turn his head and look at them. He was hungry but too lazy to ask for something to eat.

“Watch me,” whispered Ned to his companions, and then he prepared to tantalize Jim.

Ned took a piece of cake and tied it to a string. The cord he fastened to the end of his fishing pole and then, moving silently through the bushes, he took a position directly behind Jim, and some distance away.

Slowly Ned raised the pole with its dangling string and bit of cake until the latter was poised right over Jim’s head. Then he slowly lowered the dainty until it was within a few inches of Jim’s mouth.

“A new way to feed lazy folks,” observed Bart in a low tone.

The cake was held there a few minutes, but Jim seemed unaware of its presence. Ned could not understand it. Then Fenn looked over and saw that Jim was asleep.

“Can’t have the trick spoiled that way,” murmured Frank, and tossed a little pebble that hit Jim on the face. The lazy boy opened his eyes, and saw the choice bit of cake directly over his mouth. It was coming right down to him, after the manner in which cocoanuts, bananas and oranges are said to drop into the hands of the happy dwellers in tropical climes.

“Now for some fun,” whispered Fenn.

The cake was almost in Jim’s mouth. He opened his jaws. A happy look came over his face. He had his lips on the dainty, when, with a quick motion, Ned jerked it away.

Jim was so surprised he did not know what to do. The disgusted look on his face made the other boys burst into a roar of laughter. Jim raised himself on his elbow and looked at the conspirators.

“Um!” he ejaculated. He was too lazy to get mad. Then he went off in another doze.

Ned went back to join his companions, all of them still laughing at the joke.

“Let’s make him believe he’s caught something,” suggested Fenn. “Tie something to his line.”

“It’s your turn,” spoke Ned, and Fenn nodded assent.

He made his way quietly down the bank until he could pull Jim’s hook from the water which just touched it. He fastened something to it and then gave the line a sudden yank. Jim had the pole tied to his wrist to prevent a possible big fish from taking it away from him as he slept, and Fenn’s jerk awakened him.

“Got one,” announced Jim, not bothering to sit up straight. Then he began to pull in. The line came up with a suddenness that surprised him, as Fenn let go, and an old rubber boot, that Stumpy had attached, flew over and struck the lazy lad in the face.

“It’s a whopper!” he cried until he saw what it was. Then, with a disgusted look at the plotters he turned over and went to sleep again.

“What can you do with a fellow like that?” asked Ned appealing to his chums.

“Death will never overtake him,” replied Frank. “It will pass him on the road, thinking Jim has already passed in. He certainly is the last word in laziness.”

The four comrades decided they had enough fishing for the day, so, putting away their tackle and adding some fresh wet grass to the baskets of fish in order to keep them cool, they started for home.

“Let’s take the short cut,” suggested Frank. “Right through the woods.”

“Do you know it?” asked Ned. “I nearly got lost once, going that way.”

“I guess I can pick it out.”

So they began their tramp. But they had not gone more than a mile along the half-discernable path before Frank, who was in the lead, uttered an exclamation.

“See a snake?” asked Bart.

“No, but here’s a hut that I never noticed before,” was Frank’s answer. “I wonder if I am on the wrong path. It looks right but I never saw this shack.”

The boys gathered around him. On one side of the path, in a little clearing, half hidden among the trees, was a small log cabin. It looked as though it had always been there, but the boys were sure it must have been erected recently.

“There’s something painted over the door,” said Bart.

The boys looked. There, in brilliant red letters, were the words: