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CHAPTER XI
TOM HICKSLEY REAPPEARS
The housekeeper carried out the principal’s order to the letter. And she did it with the better grace because she herself was fond of the boys. She bustled about and in a very short time, which seemed long enough, however, to the hungry boys, had a smoking hot meal on the table. The boys gathered around and pitched into the good things like so many hungry wolves, while the housekeeper watched them with a genial smile on her good-natured face.
“Some feed,” pronounced Fred, with a sigh of satisfaction, when at last they were through.
“We’ve had a tough day in some ways,” declared Pee Wee, “but a mighty lucky one in another. Just think of the three cooks we’ve come up against. Meena for breakfast, Mrs. Wilson for dinner, and Mary here for supper. Yum-yum!”
“Sounds as if you were a cannibal,” commented Mouser, with a grin.
“Oh, Pee Wee hasn’t got to that yet,” mocked Fred, “but there’s no telling when he will if that appetite of his holds out.”
“I’d hate to be out on a raft with Pee Wee in the middle of the ocean, if we were short of grub,” chuckled Mouser. “Just think of the hungry looks he’d be throwing at me.”
“I’d like nothing better than to have Pee Wee along,” put in Bobby. “We could live off him for a month.”
The chaff flew back and forth for a while, and then the call of sleep began to make itself felt.
Bobby yawned and reached for his watch.
“I wonder what time – ” he began, and then stopped short in chagrin.
“No use, Bobby,” said Mouser. “The chances are that you’ll never see that watch again.”
“Maybe it’s in some pawnshop by this time,” was the cold comfort that Fred had to offer.
“No loss without some gain,” chimed in Pee Wee. “I won’t have the trouble of unfastening my sleeve buttons anyway.”
“That’s looking on the bright side of things all right,” laughed Bobby. “Come along, fellows, and let’s get to bed.”
There was no dissenting voice, and they made their way upstairs to the old familiar dormitory.
This was one of the brightest and most cheerful rooms in the school and not the least of its charm was that it commanded a splendid view of the lake. There was ample space for the twenty beds that the room contained. A locker stood beside each bed for the exclusive use of the occupant, and there was a chair at the head of each bed on which the regulations of the school demanded that clothing should be carefully folded and arranged each night upon retiring.
Most of the boys had already arrived for the beginning of the term, and the room was full of noise and the clatter of tongues. Later on, a little more quiet would be insisted upon, but the regular school course was not in full swing yet and the boys were allowed a little more latitude than usual.
The other occupants of the room clustered instantly about Bobby and his party, who were general favorites. They had already learned almost all there was to be told about the adventures of the day, but they were keenly interested in the exploits of the party during their winter holiday in the Big Woods.
“Shiner” – the nickname that had been bestowed on Jimmy Ailshine – Howell Purdy and “Sparrow” Bangs, had also been on that memorable trip, but as they too had reached school but a little earlier in the day, they had been able to tell only enough of their adventures to whet the appetite for more. The newcomers were pleased at this, as they had feared that all the wind would be taken out of their sails and that the trip would be an old story when they arrived upon the scene.
“Sparrow says that you killed a big bear up in the woods,” said Sam Thompson, one of the younger boys.
“And to hear Sparrow tell it, it must have been a twenty-foot bear at least,” laughed Frank Durrock.
“No,” grinned Fred. “It had only four feet, just like any other bear.”
“Smarty!” Frank shot back at him.
“But it seemed like twenty feet when he reared up at us,” explained Bobby.
“He was an old sockdolager, all right,” added Mouser.
“I don’t want to see any bear so close again,” remarked Pee Wee.
“I’ve seen him in my sleep once or twice since,” said Fred, “and I’ve waked up all in a sweat.”
“Just which one of you was it that killed it?” asked Sam, his eyes as big as saucers.
“That’s something we can’t tell,” answered Bobby. “We all fired at it, but I guess it was Gid Harple, the guide, who did the trick. He was a dandy shot, all right.”
“Gid’s going to fix up the claws and teeth and send ’em down to us,” said Mouser. “Then you can see for yourself just what a big fellow that bear was.”
“I heard that you had a shot at a wildcat too,” put in “Skeets” Brody.
“Yes,” said Fred, “and that was a fool stunt too. We didn’t have much chance of getting him, and that left our guns empty when we saw the bear the first time. My! but we had a run for it that day. Talk about a Marathon!”
“How did Pee Wee manage to make it?” asked Frank skeptically. “I can’t imagine him putting on speed.”
“Pee Wee wasn’t with us that time,” explained Bobby. “The rest of the fellows walked down to the station, but Pee Wee came behind in the sleigh with Gid.”
“I had more sense than the rest of the gang,” put in Pee Wee, with a superior air.
“I hear you got a lot of muskrats by stunning them through the ice,” said Skeets. “How did you make out with training them, Mouser?”
“Not very well,” confessed Mouser. “They’re too wild. Gid said I couldn’t train ’em, and I guess he knew what he was talking about.”
The finding of Pat’s father in the little shack, and the story of the hunting lodge, completely buried in the big snowslide, and the great fight they had to get out alive were also subjects of which their audience could not have enough. The listeners kept clamoring for more details and still more, until in sheer self-defense the boys had to call a halt.
“Have a heart, fellows,” said Bobby. “I’m so dead tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“Yes,” added Fred, “we’ll have all the term to tell you about the rest of it.”
Their hearers had to be content with this, and in a few moments more the boys had undressed and were in bed. But it is safe to say that in their dreams that night enough bears and wildcats were seen to stock a menagerie.
“Say, Fred,” was Bobby’s last remark that night, as he slipped between the sheets, “isn’t it bully to be back in the old dormitory again? Just suppose the tramps had tied us up in that old shack while they slipped out and left us there.”
“Ugh!” shuddered Fred, as he snuggled still deeper in his bed. “It gives me the cold shivers just to think of it.”
It was a hard thing for the boys to get out of their warm beds when the rising bell sounded the next morning. But there was no help for it, and they washed and dressed in a hurry, cheered by the thought of breakfast waiting for them.
Several tables were spread in the large bright dining-room. One of them was reserved for Dr. Raymond and his family, together with the head teachers. The boys were ranged about the others, with a junior instructor sitting at the head of each to keep order. But his duties were light, for the boys were so intent upon dispatching their food that they had little time left for mischief. Each kept a wary eye on his plate, however, for special dainties had a way sometimes of vanishing mysteriously, and “eternal vigilance” was the price of pie.
The morning was frosty but sunny, and after they had finished their meal, the boys lost no time in getting outdoors. There was little to be done on the first day except to gather in the classrooms for a few minutes and have their lessons assigned for the following day.
“Any new fellows here this term, Skeets?” Bobby asked, as the latter strolled with him and Fred on the hard snowy path in front of the main building.
“Two or three came in yesterday, I heard,” answered Skeets, “but I’ve only met one of them so far. His name’s Tom Hicksley.”
“What kind of fellow does he seem to be?” asked Fred.
“I don’t care for him very much,” replied Skeets. “That is, judging by his looks. But you can’t always tell by that. There he is now,” he added, as a boy approached them.
Fred and Bobby looked first at the newcomer and then at each other.
“My! it’s the fellow we squelched for teasing the old soldier on the train!” gasped Bobby.
CHAPTER XII
A NEW ENEMY
Tom Hicksley had caught sight of the three boys at the same moment, and from the spiteful look that came into his small eyes it was clear that he recognized Bobby and Fred.
The boys looked at him coldly but did not speak, and Hicksley, on his part, seemed at first as though he were going to pass them without saying anything. But the events of the evening before still rankled in him, and he suddenly stopped.
“So you’re the butt-ins that mixed up in my affairs last night, are you?” he asked, in a tone that he tried to make sarcastic.
Fred flared up at once.
“Yes, we did,” he shot out; “and we’d do it again if we saw you up to your mean tricks. You can’t do anything of that kind while we’re around and expect to get away with it.”
“Hello! what’s the fuss about?” asked Skeets, with sudden interest.
“You shut up!” commanded Hicksley. “This isn’t any of your funeral. I’m talking to these two boobs here.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” cried Skeets, who had a hair trigger temper very much like Fred’s own.
“I’ll tell you anything I like,” retorted Hicksley, who seemed to be a master in the “gentle art of making enemies.”
“I’ll tell you what it was, Skeets,” said Bobby. “I don’t wonder that he’s so ashamed of it that he doesn’t want it talked about. We saw him teasing an old soldier – a real old man, mind you – who was trying to get a little sleep. Then when the old man went up the aisle to get some water, this fellow stuck out his foot and tried to trip him up. The man had all he could do to keep from falling. That was too much for us fellows and we made him stop.”
“He ought to have had his head knocked off,” growled Skeets.
“It would take more than you fellows to knock my head off,” returned Hicksley belligerently.
“You’d probably get along as well without it as with it,” retorted Fred. “We knocked your cap off anyway, and I notice that you changed your seat just as we told you to.”
“That was because the conductor came along,” replied Hicksley. “And it’s a mighty good thing for you that he did. If he hadn’t I’d have knocked you into the middle of next week.”
“You couldn’t knock me into to-morrow, let alone the middle of next week,” returned Fred, who was now thoroughly aroused.
“Come, come, Fred,” said Bobby soothingly. “There’s no use in getting into a temper about this fellow. He isn’t worth it.”
“I’ll show you whether I’m worth it or not,” cried Hicksley, in a rage. “Don’t you think for a minute that you’ve heard the last of this. There were four of you fellows last night, and there are three of you now. But I’ll catch each one of you alone some time, and I’ll tan each one of you within an inch of your life.”
“You’d better try it,” answered Fred. “You’d be afraid to tackle a live one. All you’re good for is to torment a helpless old man. You’re a nice fellow, you are.”
The quarrel, although it was none of the boys’ seeking, was growing so hot that it was perhaps just as well that Mr. Carrier, one of the teachers, should come walking briskly along just at that moment. He saw from their flushed faces that something unpleasant was in the wind, but thought it just as well to ignore it rather than give it importance by taking notice of it.
“Good morning, boys,” he called cordially. “It’s just about time for meeting in the main hall. I’m going over there now, and you’d better come along with me.”
This put an end to the threatening trouble for the time, and the boys followed along in his wake, Hicksley some distance behind the other three and muttering threats under his breath.
“Isn’t he a pippin?” said Bobby, in a low voice, so that Mr. Carrier could not hear.
“Looks to me like something that the cat brought in,” grumbled Fred, whose rumpled feathers took some time for smoothing.
“He’s going around looking for trouble,” observed Skeets; “and that kind is sure to find it before very long.”
“No decent fellow will want to have anything to do with him,” remarked Fred.
“Except perhaps Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks,” amended Bobby. “He’ll be just nuts for them.”
“I said decent fellow,” repeated Fred.
They soon reached the main assembly room into which the boys were streaming from all directions.
Dr. Raymond and the rest of the teaching staff were seated on a platform in the front of the room. When the gathering had subsided into silence, the principal rose and gave the boys a little informal talk about the duties of the coming term and the spirit in which he hoped they would go about their work. He dwelt especially on the incentives offered them to become members of the “Sword and Star,” the main society of the school, and as he mentioned the name of the society, the boys who were members jumped to their feet and gave the society yell:
“One, two, three —boom!
Boom Z-z-z-ah!
Rockledge! Rockledge!
Sword and Star!
Who’s on top?
We sure are —
Rock-ledge!”
The hearty shout brought a flush of pleasure into the doctor’s cheeks and he looked around upon his charges with a face beaming with pride. He concluded his talk with an urgent invitation to each of the boys to strive for the Medal of Honor, the highest prize within the gift of the school, and then dismissed them to their respective classes.
Here the proceedings were brief. The tasks for the following day were assigned and then the boys were left to their own devices until the hours set aside that afternoon and evening for preparing their lessons.
“Our soft snap is nearly over,” mourned Fred. “From now on it will be steady work until the end of the term.”
“But think how much fun we’ll have in between,” comforted Bobby. “I’ve got a hunch that we’re going to have the bulliest time at Rockledge that we’ve ever had yet.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Fred pessimistically.
“I said it was a hunch, didn’t I?” demanded Bobby. “You don’t have to explain a hunch. You just have it and that’s all there is to it.”
“I hate to think of buckling down to work again,” said Fred. “We had such a bully free time up in the woods that I wish it would last forever.”
“That’s all the more reason you ought to be willing to work when the time comes,” remonstrated Bobby. “Think of the poor fellows that never have any outings and have to work hard all the time.”
“I suppose you’re right,” conceded Fred. “I don’t know just what it is that makes me feel that way. It wasn’t so when I got up this morning. I’ll tell you just what I think it is,” he said, as a sudden explanation of his mood suggested itself to him. “I’ll bet it’s that Tom Hicksley. I wanted to get a crack at him this morning when Mr. Carrier came along and stopped us. I’d have felt better if I’d lit out at him.”
“Now, Fred, cut out that fighting talk,” said Bobby impatiently. “There’s nothing in it. What’s the use of getting into a row that will make your folks feel bad when they hear of it and perhaps bring you up before the doctor?”
“I notice that you’re ready enough to fight sometimes,” grumbled Fred in self-defense. “You’d have pitched into Ap Plunkit if he’d hit you with that whip yesterday morning, and you were all worked up on the train at Hicksley.”
“That’s a very different thing from looking for trouble,” said Bobby stoutly. “It’s all right to take your own part when people try to bully or strike you. But it’s always best to keep out of a fight unless you’re forced into it. There wasn’t really any reason to fight Tom Hicksley this morning, and you know it.”
“Perhaps if you had hair as red as mine you wouldn’t find it so easy to keep your temper,” said Fred, falling back on an excuse he was fond of using.
“Maybe not,” laughed Bobby, “but you can make a try at it anyhow.”
“What’s this I hear about fighting?” said Frank Durrock, as he came up behind them.
Frank was larger and older than the two boys, and a prime favorite with them. He held the post of captain of the school. This carried with it no official power, as that rested wholly with the teachers. But Frank was supposed to have a general oversight, stop any disorder that went too far and in general to act as a sort of big brother to the younger boys.
He was a fine athlete also, and had been captain of the football team on which Bobby and Fred had played the preceding fall and which had won the Thanksgiving game from Belden. His skill in baseball was also marked, and he was expected to play first base on the nine in the spring.
“Oh, Fred was feeling a little sore over a row he had with Hicksley this morning,” explained Bobby.
“That new fellow?” asked Durrock. “I passed him a little while ago and he was talking with Bronson and Jinks. They seemed to be quite chummy together.”
“What did I tell you?” cried Fred to Bobby. “I knew those fellows would get together as sure as shooting.”
“They’re three of a kind,” assented Bobby.
“I don’t know anything about what kind of fellow he is,” remarked Frank, “but somebody was telling me that he was a good baseball player.”
The boys did not think it was worth while to tell what they knew of Hicksley and so kept quiet.
“He’s big and husky and ought to make a good slugger,” continued Frank, “and we can’t have too much batting strength on our nine. So if he can field as well as bat, he may be able to get a place on the team.”
The prospect was not at all pleasing to Bobby and Fred, but above everything else they were loyal to the school, and if the newcomer would be a help to the Rockledge nine they were perfectly willing to forget their own feeling.
“So you see, Fred,” continued Frank, “you don’t want to hold any grudge you may have against Hicksley. I don’t know what your scrap was about and I don’t want to know, but whatever it is, forget it.”
“Sure I will,” said Fred heartily.
“You know how it was on the football team,” went on Frank. “There were fellows on that team that you didn’t like – Jinks, for instance – but you overlooked that feeling and played good football just the same. And we want to do the same thing on the nine.
“I’m especially anxious to get up a strong nine this year,” he continued, “because we’re going to have some pretty nifty teams against us. Belden has got two or three new fellows that they say are crackerjacks and they’ll give us all we want to do to beat ’em.
“Then, too, we’re going to have a little different scheme this season than we ever had before. While you hunters have been up in the woods shooting bears” – here he grinned – “I’ve been hustling around with a few others and organized a new league.”
“A new league!” exclaimed Bobby and Fred in the same breath.
“A new league!” repeated Skeets Brody and Sparrow Bangs, who had come up just in time to hear the last words. “What do you mean, Frank? Tell us all about it.”
They gathered about him, their eyes glistening.
CHAPTER XIII
THE MONATOOK LAKE LEAGUE
“Now, now, don’t all get excited,” admonished Frank, who, all the same, was immensely delighted with the sensation he had stirred up by his announcement.
“Don’t keep us waiting, Frank,” pleaded Fred, who would rather play baseball at any time than eat.
“Out with it, like a good fellow,” chimed in Bobby, whose pitching had won a game from Belden the previous term.
Frank, with the instinct of the true story teller, waited until he had got his audience worked up to the proper pitch. Then when they were on edge, he proceeded:
“It’s this way,” he explained. “Up to now we’ve been going on in a kind of rut. Belden is about the only team we’ve ever played any real games with, and that hasn’t given us enough practice. We’ve had our own scrub nine to practice with, but as a rule they’ve been so easy that we haven’t had to work hard enough to win. The only way we can learn to hit different kinds of pitching is to come up against nines that give us a stiff fight to win.”
“But we have played with village nines sometimes,” interrupted Fred.
“We played the Benton team last year and beat them six to five,” reminded Bobby.
“Yes, I know,” admitted Frank; “but those were only single games, and there wasn’t enough at stake. It didn’t make much difference whether we won from them or not as long as we put it all over Belden.
“Now, don’t you see how much more exciting it would be to have several different teams, all members of one league, each one playing the other a certain number of games, each one fighting hard for every game and each team working its head off to get the pennant, which would be given to the nine that had won the most games at the end of the season?”
The boys broke into a chorus of delighted exclamations.
“That would be bully!” cried Bobby.
“It would be a regular see-saw!” exclaimed Fred. “First one team would be in the lead and then the other. It would be a rattling hard fight all the way from the start of the season to the finish.”
“It’s a corker,” agreed Skeets.
“A pippin of a scheme,” declared Sparrow with emphasis.
“I thought you fellows would like it,” said Frank, much pleased at the enthusiastic reception of his plan. “I talked it over with Dr. Raymond, and he said that he saw no objection to it.”
“The doc’s a good old sport,” commented Fred.
“And Dr. Raymond saw the head of the Belden school and he agreed to it too,” continued Frank, “while the captain of the Belden nine is fairly daffy over it.”
“How many clubs are there to be in the league?” asked Bobby.
“We decided that four would be enough,” answered Frank. “You see, we have only Saturdays to play, and if we had too many clubs in the league we couldn’t play enough games to really make the thing go. But with four teams, each can play three games with every other team and that would give us a pretty good line on the strength of each nine.”
“Every team would play nine games altogether, then,” figured Fred.
“Yes, and that would take nine Saturdays. Allowing for some days when it might be too rainy to play that will just about cover the playing season before school closes for the summer.”
“Who are to be the other two nines besides Belden and ourselves?” asked Sparrow.
“We’ve been scouting around and have found two town nines that will be glad to go in with us,” answered Frank. “One is at Somerset and the other at Ridgefield. They’re all within a few miles so that we wouldn’t have to travel far to play them. The fellows are about the same age as we are, from eleven to fourteen.”
“What will be the name of the league?” asked Skeets.
“How does Monatook Lake League strike you?” asked Frank. “Both towns are right on the lake, just as Rockledge and Belden are.”
“Just the thing,” was the verdict of all.
“Some of those town boys are dandy players,” said Skeets. “I saw the Somerset team play once and they certainly put up a fine game.”
“And the Ridgefield boys have a pitcher who is a peach, all right,” said Frank. “But that’s just what we’re looking for. It wouldn’t be any fun defeating a lot of dubs.”
“We’ll have to look out that they don’t ring in some good players from other towns to fill up weak places on their team,” said Fred.
“Of course we’ll have to take a chance on that,” admitted Frank. “But I don’t think we’ll have to worry much. I know some of the boys on both teams and they seem to be pretty square fellows.”
“You’ll have to limber up that pitching arm of yours and get it in good shape, Bobby,” cried Fred jubilantly, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
“How do you know I’ll get a chance to pitch?” asked Bobby modestly. “The nine isn’t made up yet and won’t be till we’ve had a chance to practice. Some of the new fellows may be a good deal better than I am at pitching.”
“I don’t believe they will be,” returned Skeets. “Do you remember, Fred, that last game when Bobby pitched and we beat Belden by three to two?”
“You bet I do,” replied Fred. “And I remember that catch that Bobby made in the ninth inning when he rolled over and over and yet held on to the ball. If he had let it get away from him, Belden would have won sure.”
“I wish we could go right out on the field tomorrow!” exclaimed impatient Fred, who was very much worked up over the prospect of sport that the new league opened up.
“That would be rushing things for fair,” laughed Frank.
“It would hardly do to be playing ball in overcoats and mittens,” grinned Skeets.
“Let’s see,” said Sparrow. “This is the twenty-fifth of January. To the twenty-fifth of February is one month and to the twenty-fifth of March is another. The field ought to be in shape for playing by that time. Don’t you think so, Frank?”
“If we have a fairly early spring it ought to,” said Frank. “Still in this climate I’ve seen snow on the ground sometimes in April.”
“February is a short month,” said Fred hopefully. “That will cut the time down some.”
“Anyway we can do a whole lot of practicing indoors,” said Bobby. “The gymnasium is good and warm and we can rig up some kind of a cage for pitching and catching.”
“Just as they do in colleges,” said Sparrow proudly. “I tell you, fellows, we’re some class!”
“I’ll bet the town papers’ll put in reports of the games,” said Fred, who already in imagination saw his name in print.
“Sure they will,” agreed Skeets. “They’ll be glad of a chance to fill up space.”
This was not very flattering, and Fred, who saw fame coming his way with giant strides, rather resented it.
“They won’t do it only for that reason,” he said indignantly. “I bet there’ll be some dandy games played and lots of people in the towns will come out to see them.”
“Maybe, especially as they won’t have to pay to get in,” retorted Skeets, who was not averse at times to stirring Fred up just for the fun of seeing him roiled.
“Well, we can always count on big crowds when Rockledge and Belden play anyway,” put in Bobby, before Fred had a chance to throw back at Skeets.
“We ought to get some kind of monogram sewed on our uniforms or caps to show the name of the league,” said Sparrow, who was quite as alive as Fred was to the new dignity that was coming to them.
“The letters M. L. L. would look nifty, sure enough,” agreed Bobby.
“Well there’s plenty of time to think of those things before the season opens,” remarked Frank. “The main thing now is to get up a team that will put it all over the other fellows.”
“Just think how it would feel to be the champions of the league,” said Sparrow.
“And to pull up the pennant on the flagpole just back of center field,” gloated Fred.
“Rockledge wouldn’t be big enough to hold us,” said Bobby.
“That’s all right, fellows,” cautioned Frank. “But remember all the other fellows are feeling the same way. It’s easy enough to win games in our dreams, but the only ones that count are those that are won on the diamond.”
“We’ll win them all right there too,” replied Fred, who already saw himself cracking out a home run with the bases full. “We’ll be there with bells on from the time the season opens.”
“I bet we’ll go all through the season without losing a game,” declared Sparrow, in a wild flight of fancy.
“Come off the perch,” warned Bobby.
“Turn over, turn over, you’re on your back,” said the irreverent Skeets.
“You’ll bring bad luck on us if you talk like that,” cautioned Frank. “It stands to reason that we’ll have to lose some games. The other fellows are no slouches, don’t you forget that, and they’ll be out to win just as we are.”
“The best teams in the big leagues lose lots of games, even to the poorest ones,” said Bobby. “You’ll notice that the nines that win the championships don’t often come through the season with much more than six hundred per cent.”
“Just what does that mean?” asked Skeets, who had never been especially strong in mathematics.
Bobby did a swift sum in mental arithmetic.
“That means they won three games out of five,” he announced. “So you see they had lots of losses before they won the pennant. We’ve got a swell chance of winning every game – I don’t think. If we win six out of the nine, I shall be perfectly satisfied. That will give us a percentage of six hundred and sixty-seven.”
“Bobby’s right,” confirmed Frank. “That would be two out of every three, and the team that wins isn’t likely to do any better than that. The best team in the world will sometimes be whipped by a poor one. That’s what makes baseball such a bully game. Lots of good luck and hard luck come into a game, and it’s never settled until the last man is out in the ninth inning.”
“But in the long run it’s the best team that wins,” protested Fred, still undaunted. “And the best team in the Monatook Lake League this year will be the team of Rockledge School.”
