When it was gone, and the wagon with the trunks had followed, the tramp came out of the brush and gazed after both turnouts. “Say, Buddy Girk, but dat was a narrow escape,” he muttered to himself. “Wot brought dem young gents to dis neighborhood? It can’t be possible da have tracked me — an’ so quick.” He hesitated. “I t’ink I had better give dis neighborhood de go-by,” and he dove into the brush again. He was the rascal who had stolen Dick’s timepiece.
CHAPTER VII
TOM GETS INTO TROUBLE
Putnam Hall was a fine building of brick and stone, standing in the center of a beautiful parade ground of nearly ten acres. In front of the parade ground was the wagon road, and beyond was a gentle slope leading down to the lake. To the left of the building was a playground hedged in by cedars, at one comer of which stood a two-story frame building used as a gymnasium. To the right was a woods, while in the rear were a storehouse, a stable, and several other outbuildings, backed up by some farm lands, cultivated for the sole benefit of the institution, so that the pupils were served in season with the freshest of fruits and vegetables.
The Hall was built in the form of the letter F, the upright line forming the front of the building and the other lines representing wings in the rear. There were three entrances — one for the teachers and senior class in the center, one for the middle classes on the right, and another for the youngest pupils on the left. There were, of course, several doors in the rear in addition.
The entire ground floor of the Hall was given over to class and drill rooms. The second floor was occupied by Captain Putnam and his staff of assistants and the pupils as living and sleeping apartments, while the top floor was used by the servants, although there were also several dormitories there, used by young boys, who came under the care of Mrs. Green, the housekeeper.
Captain Victor Putnam was a bachelor. A West Point graduate, he had seen gallant service in the West, where he had aided the daring General Custer during many an Indian uprising. A fall from a horse, during a campaign in the Black Hills, had laid him on a long bed of sickness, and had later on caused him to retire from the army and go back to his old profession of school teaching. He might have had a position at West Point as an instructor, but he had preferred to run his own military academy.
“Hurrah, here we are at last!” cried Fred Garrison, as the carryall swept into view of the Hall. “I see twenty or thirty of the students, and all togged out in soldier clothes!”
“I suppose we’ll be wearing suits soon,”, answered Tom. “By George! I’m going to give them a salute.”
(For the doings of the Putnam Hall students previous to the arrival at that institution of the Rover boys see “The Putnam Hall Series,” the first volume of which is entitled, “The Putnam Hall Cadets.” — Publishers)