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"I can fix it up." "Then write ze note and I sign heem," said the Frenchman. "So he vill my pardon ask, iss it?" inquired Mr. Garlach when Jack had explained to him. "I believe that's his intention. Why can't you two meet out in the chapel and fix things up. Exchange letters so to speak. He's going to write to you in German, and you can write to him in French."
Professor Garlach, on the other hand, seemed to have written to his French friend that the latter nation was nothing but a lot of long-legged frog-eaters, who were more ladies than they were men!" "No wonder they went up into the air!" exclaimed Bony Balmore. "It was like a match to gunpowder." "Lucky we could turn the lights out," commented Nat Anderson, "or they'd be fighting yet."
"Vy do they shout for dot frog-eating nation?" inquired Mr. Garlach of Jack. "Mistake I guess," was the reply. "The boys are not very good on language yet." Then, before either of the instructors could protest, they found themselves side by side, being carried along in a press of students who marched around the academy, singing at the top of their voices, and each one rendering a different air.
At the academy, after many other adventures, including aiding and abetting the fighting of a mock duel between Professor Garlach, the German teacher, and Professor Socrat, the French instructor, Jack made the acquaintance of one John Smith, a half-breed Indian who had come to the academy for instruction. John had considerable Indian blood in his veins, as he proved on more than one occasion.
"Hurrah for France!" cried a score of voices. "My compliments!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat, bowing low to the assemblage of students. "Long may the German flag wave!" came another cry. "Ach! Dot is goot to mine heart!" said Mr. Garlach. "Zat is an insult to me!" spluttered the Frenchman, as Sam hurried him on. "Don't mind 'em. They don't know what they're saying," was Sam's comment.
Garlach joined in the cries for his late enemy, and then the two teachers shook hands, while the boys cheered again. "Now good loud ones for Dr. Mead and all the rest of the teachers!" called Jack, and by this time the cheering habit was so implanted that the lads cheered everything they could think of from vacation to Socker the janitor. Now the crowd began to break up.
"First to Professor Socrat's room," whispered Sam when the boys, including Will Slade, Fred Kaler and Bony Balmore were out in the corridor. "He's not going to fight a duel with Professor Garlach, is he?" asked Jack, recalling an occasion when the two teachers nearly did. "Not this time," replied Sam, "but there may be a fight in it."
"I vill crush the frog-eater as I do dis letter!" muttered Mr. Garlach, as he twisted the slip of paper into a shapeless mass and tossed it into the air. "Scoundrel!" hissed Mr. Socrat "Vile dog vat you iss!" came from Mr. Garlach. Then, unable to restrain their feelings any longer they rushed at each other.
It was no easy task to bring this about, but Jack had a winning way with him, and really made the Frenchman believe it was more a favor on his part to apologize than it was of Mr. Garlach to accept it. In the end Professor Socrat had agreed to write a little note to his former enemy. "Only I know not ze Germaine language," he said. "That's all right, I'll do it for you," said Jack.
"Thanks, Professor," said Jack. "I suppose you are all ready for the long rest?" "Sure I am, Ranger." "Well, we all are. I saw Professor Socrat packing up as I came past." At the mention of the French teacher's name Professor Garlach seemed to bristle up. There was always more or less ill feeling between them on account of their nationalities, but of late it was especially acute. "Ach!
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