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CHAPTER VIII
GOOD-BYE TO PUTNAM HALL
"Now, Songbird, give us one of your best poetical effusions," came from d.i.c.k Rover, after the excitement had died down a little. "We haven't heard a word out of you for fourteen minutes and a quarter."
"Yes, Songbird, turn on the poetry spigot and let her flow," put in Tom.
"Give us something on old schooldays," came from another cadet.
"Put in a touch of last farewells," added another.
"Don't forget to speak of the moon and fond memories."
"Or, shall we ever forget?"
"Or, camping on the old camp-ground, Songbird."
"And of all things, mention the soup we had last Thursday. No piece of poetry would be complete without that soup."
"Who's making up poetry about soup?" roared Songbird Powell. But then he grew calmer. "All right, fellows, here goes." And he started:
"Of all the days to mem'ry dear, The dearest days are those spent here, When we--"
"That's a libel!" interrupted Tom. "Captain Putnam's rates are no higher than the rates of other first-cla.s.s academies. I move we cut that verse out, Songbird."
"I didn't mean the cost of the days spent here."
"You can't spend anything here," put in George Granbury. "You have to go to Cedarville to do your shopping."
"I'll make a fresh start," came from Powell, and he warbled:
"Old Putnam Hall I do adore, And love the place as ne'er before, The campus, boathouse, fis.h.i.+ng pier-- The roads that run from far and near-- Each cla.s.sroom is a hallowed spot, Though many lessons are forgot!
The dormitories, bright and clean-- No better rooms were ever seen!
The mess-room, where we gathered oft--"
"To eat our eggs both hard and soft!"
finished up Tom, and then went on:
"The prison wherein I was cast, And thought that day would be my last, The teachers sweet and the teachers sour, And the feasts we held at the midnight hour, The games of ball we lost and won, And the jubilees! What lots of fun!
And then the skating on the ice--"
"When we broke in, 'twas not so nice:"
interrupted George Granbury, referring to a calamity the particulars of which have already been related in "The Rover Boys in the Mountains."
And then Songbird Powell took up the strain once more:
"I love each corner and each nook, I love the lake and love the brook, I love the cedars waving high--"
"And love the dinners with mince pie,"
interrupted Tom once more, and continued:
"In fact, I love it one and all, There is no spot like Putnam Hall!"
And then, with one accord, all standing around joined in the academy cheer:
"Zip, boom, bang! Ding, dong! Ding, dong! Bang! Hurrah for Putnam Hall!" Then the fire was stirred up, more boxes and barrels piled on top, and the cadets danced around more wildly than ever. They were allowed to keep up the fun until midnight, when all were so tired that further sport was out of the question, and all went sound asleep.
Bright and early the next morning the cadets a.s.sembled for their last breakfast in the mess-room. The parade was dispensed with, for some had to leave by the early boat on the lake in order to make the proper connections. Many were the handshakings and the kind words of farewell.
Some of the students had graduated and were not to come back. Of these a few were bound for college, while others were going into various lines of business.
"We shall never forget our days at Putnam .Hall!" said more than one.
"And I shall never forget you, boys," answered Captain Putnam. "I wish all of you the best of success in life."
It was not until ten o'clock that the three Rover boys left for Cedarville in the big school stage. As was usual, Peleg Snuggers drove the turnout, which was filled to overflowing with cadets. Behind the stage came a big wagon, heavily loaded with trunks and boxes.
"Now, young gents, no cutting up," pleaded the general-utility man.
"The hosses won't stand it, nowhow!"
"That's an old scare, Peleg," replied Tom. He had a tin horn and gave a loud blast. "That will let folks know we are coming." And then a dozen other horns sounded out, while some of the cadets began to sing.
A few minutes after reaching the steamboat dock at the village, which, as my old readers know, was located on the sh.o.r.e of Cayuga Lake, the _Golden Star_ came along and made her usual landing. The boat looked familiar to them and they gave the captain a rousing greeting.
Over a dozen pupils were to make the trip to Ithaca at the foot of the lake. There the Rovers would get aboard a train which would take them to Oak Run, the nearest railroad station to their home.
"The _Golden Star_ looks like an old friend," remarked d.i.c.k, when they were seated on the front, upper deck, enjoying the refres.h.i.+ng breeze that was blowing.'
"I am never on this boat but what I think of our first meeting with Dan Baxter and with Dora Stanhope and Nellie and Grace Laning," came from Tom. "What an enemy Dan Baxter has been from that time on!"
"And what a pile of things have happened since that time!" was Sam's comment. "By the way, it is strange that none of us have heard from any of those girls lately. They ought to be coming east from California by this time."
"I wish they were home," went on Tom. "I'd like to propose something."
"Maybe you'd like to propose to Nellie," put in his younger brother, slyly.
"No sooner than you'd propose to Grace," was Tom's prompt answer, which made Sam blush. "d.i.c.k," he went on, "wouldn't it be great if we could get the girls and Mrs. Stanhope to take that trip with us on the houseboat?"
"That would certainly be immense," cried the eldest Rover, enthusiastically. "Why didn't we think of it before? We might have written to them about it."
"Is it too late to write now?" asked Sam. "Or, maybe we can telegraph."
"Perhaps Mrs. Laning wants her girls at home now," said d.i.c.k, slowly.