Beware the Fisj (3 page)

“Stay down!” Cathy whispered. “It’s Miss Scrimmage! She’s got Bruno and Boots!”

“I thought I heard screams!” said Miss Scrimmage, pointing a shotgun at the two boys. “You should be ashamed of yourselves, coming over here and terrorizing my poor innocent girls! Hands over your heads!” Her hair curlers bounced as she gestured with the shotgun towards the highway. “Now quick-march back to Macdonald Hall! I’m taking you to Mr. Sturgeon! Move, both of you!”

Bruno looked around. There were only two of them. What had happened to Elmer?

Miss Scrimmage, seething with indignation, marched them across the road and the Macdonald Hall campus to the Headmaster’s cottage, which stood at the edge of the south lawn. Heedless of the fact that it was one o’clock in the morning and that she was in her dressing gown, she rang the bell insistently.

A few moments passed before Mr. Sturgeon appeared at the door in his red silk bathrobe and his bedroom slippers. He took in the scene with one horrified glance.

“Miss Scrimmage, put that weapon down this instant!” he exclaimed. “How dare you point it at any of my boys!”

“They are marauders!” Miss Scrimmage accused. “I caught them on our grounds terrorizing my poor, defenceless girls! You may consider yourself lucky that I did not simply turn them over to the police!”

The Headmaster hustled Bruno and Boots into his house and placed himself between them and Miss Scrimmage. “The police,” he said in icy rage, “would be interested to know that you chase children around with guns in the dead of night. These boys will be dealt with. Good evening.” He slammed the door in her face.

Mr. Sturgeon turned to Bruno and Boots to find his wife comforting them.

“Mildred,” he said, “please go back to bed.”

She ignored him. “Bruno, Melvin, you poor boys! You must be awfully frightened! What were you doing over there?”

Wordlessly Boots held out the food parcel.

Mrs. Sturgeon opened the bag. “Sandwiches! Oh, William, they were hungry! I told you growing boys have to have their evening snack!”

“Enough of this!” exclaimed Mr. Sturgeon. He opened the door a crack and peered outside.

“Is the coast clear, sir?” asked Bruno in a small voice.

“You may go,” barked Mr. Sturgeon, “but you will be in my office at eight tomorrow morning. Goodnight.”

* * *

“Oh, Miss Scrimmage, it was just terrible!” quavered Cathy. “We were so scared! Thank goodness you saved us!”

Miss Scrimmage sat down on the bed under which Elmer Drimsdale cowered, paralyzed with fear. “You poor darlings,” she said comfortingly. “You have nothing to fear while I am here. I can smell an intruder anywhere!”

Underneath the bed, some dust went up Elmer’s nose. He sneezed.

“
Gesundheit
, dear,” said Miss Scrimmage.

“Thank you,” said Cathy and Diane both at the same time.

“Would you two girls like me to spend the night in your room?” the Headmistress offered kindly.

“No!” cried Diane.

“What she means,” said Cathy quickly, “is that she has this terrible cold — you heard her sneeze — and we wouldn’t want you to catch it.”

“Oh,” said Miss Scrimmage. “How thoughtful of you. But Catherine might catch it too. Come along, Diane. To the infirmary with you. I shall look after you.”

With a glance of pure hatred at her grinning roommate, Diane followed Miss Scrimmage from the room. Cathy dragged Elmer out from under the bed. “All clear,” she said cheerfully.

Elmer mouthed the words, “I think I’m going to be sick.” His voice was gone again.

“I can understand how this sort of thing might upset you, this being your first time here,” she said sympathetically. “I’ll get a cold cloth for your head. You’ll have to stick around for a couple of hours anyway, until the heat’s off. Meanwhile, please make yourself comfortable. There’s a nice bed over there. Diane won’t be needing it tonight.”

Elmer moaned and lay down, gingerly trying to sort out the events of the evening.

* * *

“Where can he be?” exclaimed Bruno for the umpteenth time, pacing the floor like a worried father.

“I don’t care where he is!” cried Boots. “Bruno, will you think of us for a minute? The Fish is going to kill us tomorrow!”

“But what about Elmer? He’s helpless! And we just left him there!” Bruno was stricken with guilt.

“We didn’t leave him. We were marched away at gunpoint.” Boots sighed miserably. “Don’t worry, Bruno. The way our luck has been running tonight, he’ll probably turn up safe and sound!”

It was four o’clock in the morning when Bruno and Boots were awakened by a frantic scratching at the window. The two boys rushed over and pulled Elmer in.

He was a sight to behold. His face was shiny with perspiration, and his usually neat crew cut was standing on end. He was twitching nervously and his eyes were wild. He looked like a hunted animal.

“Where have you been?” stormed Bruno. “We’ve been worried sick!”

His shaky knees collapsing under him, Elmer sat down on the floor to tell his tale of woe. “It was horrible!” he croaked. “After those two girls saved me from Miss Scrimmage they wouldn’t let me leave! They made me hide under the bed! When Miss Scrimmage came in and sat down on the bed, I was terrified!”

Bruno and Boots could bear it no longer. They burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Elmer was outraged. “It’s not amusing! And besides, they told Miss Scrimmage the most horrid lies about you. They said you were terrorizing them until she came along and saved them!”

By this time Bruno and Boots had collapsed to the floor in hysterics.

“Then I had to stay there for three hours before that Cathy person would let me leave,” Elmer continued. “It was the most harrowing experience of my life!”

“No more, Elmer!” gasped Bruno, exhausted. “I can’t stand it!”

Boots caught his breath. “Not bad for a first time out! Elmer, I’m nominating you for Rookie of the Year!”

“It’s all very well for you to laugh,” protested Elmer reproachfully. “You didn’t have to go through what I did.”

“Hah!” said Boots. “Old Scrimmage marched us to The Fish at gunpoint and he almost had a fit! We’ve got to see him in the office at eight o’clock. We’re cooked!”

Elmer turned even paler. “Does — does Mr. Sturgeon know about me?”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Boots. “You’re clean.”

Elmer sighed with relief and turned to Bruno. “You told me you never get caught,” he accused. “Miss Scrimmage caught you.”

Bruno shrugged. “It was a one-in-a-million chance,” he said. “Even a pro like me can have an off night. There’s no way it could ever happen again. She got lucky.”

“Lucky or not,” Boots said mournfully, “we’re the ones who are going to have to face the music.”

* * *

“William, what are you going to do to those poor boys?”

Mr. Sturgeon sipped his breakfast coffee. “I don’t know, Mildred,” he replied. “I am still Headmaster here, and roaming the countryside in the dead of night is frowned upon by this institution.”

“But they were hungry,” his wife pleaded. “They aren’t getting enough to eat!”

“They
are
getting enough to eat,” he snapped back. “They just aren’t eating it.” He shook his head. “I should be furious with them, but somehow I just feel angry at that awful Scrimmage woman. Every time I think of her being allowed to own that shotgun … If she ever hurts one of my boys, I’ll —”

“William, you’re shouting again.”

* * *

At precisely 8 AM, Bruno and Boots marched past the heavy oak door with HEADMASTER lettered in gold, and into the office. They ignored the comfortable chairs intended for visitors and automatically sat down on the hard wooden bench facing Mr. Sturgeon’s desk.

The Headmaster leaned forward, fixing them with the cold, fish-like stare which made his nickname all the more appropriate.

“Lights-out at Macdonald Hall occurs at exactly ten o’clock,” he said icily. “From that moment on all students are expected to be in their beds. Miss Scrimmage’s Finishing School for Young Ladies is off limits at all times, especially in the middle of the night. Are those rules something new to you?”

“No, sir,” Bruno admitted quietly.

“I’m very happy to hear that,” said Mr. Sturgeon. “I never want to catch you over there again. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” chorused Bruno and Boots.

“Excellent,” said Mr. Sturgeon. “At least I’m glad to see you didn’t involve Drimsdale in your nonsense. As for your punishment — except for mealtimes, you are to spend the rest of today in your room.” He stood up. “Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” The boys backed out of the office and scurried down the marble corridor of the Faculty Building.

Once outside, Boots let his breath out in a long sigh of relief. “A day’s punishment?” he said incredulously. “I thought he was going to murder us!”

“I knew he’d go easy,” replied Bruno. “He doesn’t like Miss Scrimmage anyway. He was so mad at her he forgot he was mad at us. It’s all very simple. Anyway, we need a quiet day in our room.”

“You bet!” said Boots enthusiastically. “I could use a nap. I hardly slept at all last night.”

“Who said anything about sleep?” demanded Bruno. “Our suggestion box must be full by now. We have to get to work.”

“Swell,” said Boots without enthusiasm. “We could have started getting publicity for the Hall last night if we’d thought of it. Picture this:
Students Shot By Crazed Headmistress
. Wouldn’t that have enlarged our enrolment?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” scoffed Bruno. “This is an important thing we’re doing. If everyone takes it as lightly as you do and Macdonald Hall closes, then where will we be?”

The two boys headed for Dormitory 2 to serve their punishment and read the suggestions.

* * *

“I don’t
care
about the budget!” snapped Mr. Sturgeon into the telephone. “My boys
must
have their evening snack … Because they’re young and healthy and they’re growing, that’s why. They’re also begging food over at Scrimmage’s, and I’ll not have that! We may be in financial difficulty, but surely we have some pride! … Yes, a little cereal and milk would be fine. I’m glad you agree, Jim … Thank you. Good-bye.”

He replaced the receiver with a look of satisfaction on his face. It had taken Bruno Walton and Melvin O’Neal to get him back into harness, but at least now he was fighting back.

* * *

In room 201 the Pacific salmon smiled down on industrious activity. Elmer Drimsdale’s head was buried deep inside the black box containing his PIT system. He was tinkering happily while humming a Bach fugue.

Bruno and Boots sat cross-legged on the floor. Between them was Boots’s duffle bag, filled to overflowing with small pieces of paper.

“Here’s something,” said Boots. “
Let them close the place up so we can all go home and get a square meal
. It’s signed Anonymous.”

“You know, I’m a little disappointed in all this,” said Bruno. “A lot of the guys don’t seem to have understood what we wanted. Look at these suggestions —
rob a bank, get caught and get your name in the paper; commit a murder
, same notation. What’s the matter with these idiots?”

Boots laughed. “Here’s one from Sidney Rampulsky. It says,
Discover gold on the campus
.”

“Ha!” said Bruno. “I wish we could. Here’s two more
rob a bank
, for goodness’ sake!” He shuffled through several others. “Hey! Now here’s something! Marvin Trimble says we should fake an ancient Indian burial ground. Then the government will declare the site a national monument and they’ll never allow anything to be built here, so the school will stay.”

“Bruno, are you crazy?” Boots exclaimed. “We can’t do that. Where would we get ancient relics?”

“An arrow is an arrow,” shrugged Bruno.

“Not when it’s plastic and says
Made in Japan
!”

“So we’ll make a few in shop,” argued Bruno, “and we’ll stomp on them a bit so they’ll look old.”

“They won’t be ancient enough,” insisted Boots. “Those archeologist guys have ways of finding out how old things like that are. They’re not just going to take a quick look and say, ‘Great heavens! Arrows!’ and then put up a national monument. They’re going to check to see if the stuff is real — which it won’t be. And then we’ll be in trouble again.”

“I guess you’re right,” conceded Bruno. “What a stupid guy that Marvin Trimble is! Do you see anything else in this mess?”

Boots nodded. “Rob Adams says someone should make a great discovery, like a cure for a terrible disease. Just like that!”

“That’s Elmer’s department,” laughed Bruno. “Hey, Elm, as soon as you’re finished with that TV thing would you mind discovering a cure for some dread disease?”

Elmer’s head emerged from the black box. “Oh,” he said seriously, “as a matter of fact I’m working on a cure for the common cold right now.”

“I thought you were working on that broadcasting thing,” said Boots.

“I am,” replied Elmer. “I am currently involved in seventeen different projects — or is it eighteen? I don’t remember.” His head disappeared again.

Boots cast Bruno a look of pure wonder. “Does he ever finish anything? Is he ever successful?”

Bruno shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“At last!” cried Elmer. “It’s completed!” He leapt to his feet and gazed earnestly at Bruno and Boots. “Would you mind helping me set it up to test it?”

“Sure,” said Bruno.

He and Boots picked themselves up off the floor and watched in amazement as Elmer began gathering equipment from every corner of the room, under the beds and in the closet. They spent the next hour fetching, carrying and holding electronic gear for the eccentric genius as he set up his new invention.

When it was all done, several yards of wire and cable snaked across the walls and under the furniture to Elmer’s PIT system. On top of the box sat an enormous jumble of circuits, tubes and resistors, and a condenser microphone, all attached to a camera turret. The lens was pointed directly at Elmer’s Pacific salmon poster. On the back of the black box was a small television monitor and speaker. Bruno and Boots were awed.