The Heroes of the School: or, The Darewell Chums Through Thick and Thin

CHAPTER VII
ALICE HAS A CHANCE

The four chums were certainly regarded as the heroes of the school that day, for they had been instrumental in winning a victory that went down in the history of the institution as a most brilliant one.

“I didn’t know you had it in you, Stumpy,” said Ned, as the nine reached the high school grounds on the return trip.

“Me either,” replied Fenn. “It sort of ‘growed,’ like Topsy in Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

“To think of beating the Preps,” murmured Bart. “It’s the finest thing that ever happened.”

“How’s your wrist, Lem?” asked Frank.

“Hurts like the mischief. Sandy came down on it with all his force.”

“Say, I wonder if he meant that?” asked Fenn.

“Meant it? What do you mean?” asked Bart.

“Well it looked queer,” went on Fenn. “There we were in a tie game and we needed every advantage we could get to hold it. Then Sandy gets up to one of his tricks, and he might have known something would happen. It always does when he tries his funny work.”

“You don’t mean to say you think he deliberately hurt me, do you?” asked Lem, winding his handkerchief around the swollen wrist.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to accuse any one unjustly,” Stumpy continued. “But I heard he was going around saying things about being done out of his place as substitute pitcher, in practice, by me. Maybe he thought he’d just hurt Lem a little so’s he could have a chance to finish out the game.”

“I’d hate to believe it of him,” remarked the captain, “but he certainly did act rather strange. He went off angry, too. Well, it can’t be helped. Guess we’d better not say anything about it unless he tries to do something else. Come on to the drug store, Lem, and we’ll get some arnica for that wrist.”

Most of the boys dispersed at the school campus where the stage had left them, but the four chums, with Lem in their midst, walked up the street together.

“I wouldn’t be afraid to tackle ’em again,” observed Ned. “We’ve got their measure now.”

“Maybe they’ll ask for a return game,” said Bart. “Hello,” he added, “here comes my sister and Jennie Smith. Look out, Stumpy, or Jennie will be doing the Juliet act to you.”

“Guess not,” spoke Fenn, and he started to walk away, but Ned held him.

“Don’t desert in the face of the enemy,” he said, and Fenn had to stay.

“Oh, is some one hurt?” cried Alice, as she saw the cloth around Lem’s wrist. “How nice! I mean how fortunate I happened to meet you! Now I will have a chance to treat you!”

“Going to treat us to ice cream sodas?” asked her brother unfeelingly.

“Don’t be foolish, Bart! What is it Lem; is your wrist broken?”

“Only sprained, I think.”

“Let me look at it,” demanded Alice, and, regardless of the crowd that gathered, when the five boys and two girls formed a group on the sidewalk, Alice proceeded to undo the handkerchief and other cloth Lem had wound about his wrist.

“Wait a minute,” said Alice. “I must look at my book on first-aid-to-the-injured to make sure what it is,” and she took a little volume from a bag she carried on her arm. Rapidly turning the pages she read:

“‘A sprain is the result of violent twisting, stretching or partial tearing of the ligaments about a joint, and there is often a fracture at the ends of the bones.’ Are you sure there isn’t a fracture, Lem? I’d love to treat a fracture as I never had a chance at one yet.”

“I hope not,” murmured the disabled pitcher. “It’s bad enough as it is.”

He was rather uneasy under the pressure Alice brought to bear on his wrist as she turned it this way and that, in an endeavor to see if it was broken.

“Do I hurt you?” she asked.

“Well – er – that is – no!” and Lem shut his teeth tightly together.

“Come right over to the drug store,” spoke Alice, as she led Lem by the injured wrist. He tried not to show the pain she unconsciously caused him. “I will get some hot water and hold your hand in it for an hour and a half.”

“Half an hour’s enough,” Lem said. “I haven’t got time for any more.”

“I must go by the book,” Alice declared firmly. “A good nurse always does that.”

Alice walked into the drug store, leading Lem as though she had done that sort of thing all her life. The four chums followed.

“Some hot water please, in a deep basin,” requested Alice of the clerk, and, though the man behind the counter looked in wonder at the strange cavalcade, he brought out the basin full of the steaming liquid.

“Put your wrist in,” commanded Alice as she rolled up Lem’s sleeve.

He thrust his arm in, half way to the elbow.

“Ouch!” he yelled. “It’s hot!”

“Of course it is,” replied the girl coolly, “it has to be. Now while we are waiting the hour and a half let’s talk about the game. It will help you to forget the pain. Maybe Bart has money for some ice cream soda.”

“I’ll buy ’em,” said Lem, trying to get his uninjured hand into his pocket.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” decided Alice. “You’re a patient. Whoever heard of a patient standing treat?” and she motioned to her brother.

CHAPTER VIII
THE STRANGE BOATMAN

Bart went over to the soda fountain and ordered “something for all hands” as he expressed it. Meanwhile Alice remained at Lem’s side, holding his wrist down well under the hot water. Lem’s face had lost some of its pained look. The heat was reducing the swelling and, consequently, the pressure.

“Will you kindly get me some cotton and bandages ready?” asked Alice of the clerk, and he produced them at once.

“When you going to graduate as a trained nurse?” asked Bart, as he came back, a glass of soda in each hand.

“Little boys shouldn’t ask the nurse questions,” spoke Alice, with a laugh.

“I say, how’s Lem going to eat his?” asked Frank. “He’s only got one hand, and it’s hard work dishing up the cream with a long handled spoon if you don’t hold the glass.”

“You boys will have to hold mine and Lem’s,” said Alice. “We can eat with one hand then,” and so it was done. Bart held Lem’s glass and Fenn took charge of Alice’s. When they finished the boys who had acted as soda-bearers regaled themselves on the beverage.

“Say, Alice, how long before that’ll be done? It’s been boiling half an hour now,” remarked Bart.

“More hot water, please,” the girl requested of the clerk. “A little longer,” she added to her brother. “Then I’m going to bandage it and we can go.”

To give her credit Alice did bandage the sprained wrist quite well. She opened her first-aid book on the counter in front of her and followed a diagram showing how to fold the cloth. The druggist complimented her on her skill.

“This is my first big case,” said Alice with a smile. She was very much in earnest over it, however lightly the boys treated her ambition. “I hope I have some more soon.”

“Well, I hope it isn’t me,” said Lem.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” said Alice, looking a little offended.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that!” Lem hastened to add. “It feels ever so much better. I meant I hope I won’t get hurt again. The season is young yet and we’ve lots of games ahead of us.”

“Guess we’ll have to take Alice along to look after the wounded,” said Frank. “She’ll be the mascot.”

“Somebody was mascot to-day all right,” came from Bart. “We certainly were in luck. Stumpy, hereafter you’re the regular substitute pitcher. Sandy Merton can consider himself released.”

It was dusk when the little group left the drug store to go to their several homes.

“You must come and report to me to-morrow,” said Alice as she bade Lem good-bye. “Be careful to keep the bandage on.”

“I will,” he promised.

His house was in the opposite direction to that which the four chums took. The chums walked on slowly together, Alice and Jennie hurrying away to do an errand for Mrs. Keene. As the boys turned a corner they almost collided with a man who was walking quickly in the opposite direction.

“I beg pardon!” he muttered as he passed through the group of lads. They were too surprised to respond and when Bart did think to say, “certainly,” the man was several feet away hurrying up the street. The boys gazed after him.

“Don’t you know who that is?” asked Ned suddenly.

“No; friend of yours?” inquired Fenn.

“I’m sure it’s the man we met in the woods Saturday.”

“Who, the crazy man?”

“No, the one at the hut – the King of Paprica – though he may be crazy for all I know. I recognized him as he hurried past me.”

“Are you sure?” asked Frank.

“Positive.”

“He didn’t have his crown on,” spoke Bart.

“And his clothes were not the same,” put in Fenn.

“That doesn’t make any difference,” insisted Ned. “I am sure it was the same man. I’ll bet there’s some mystery here, and it’s up to us to solve it,” he added.

“I don’t see why,” said Frank.

“Why haven’t we as good a right as any one?”

“I’m certain this man, if he is the one we saw at the hut, is the keeper of that poor lunatic we first met in the woods. Now what’s the use of bothering them. They have troubles enough,” replied Frank.

“Well, I want to get a look inside that hut,” went on Ned, “and I’m going to, some day.”

“Your curiosity may get you into trouble,” spoke Frank, a little seriously.

“It won’t be the first time,” and Ned laughed.

“Well, whoever he is, he was in a great hurry,” said Fenn. “Maybe the lunatic is sick and he’s going to get some medicine for him.”

By this time the man was out of sight, and, after a little further talk the boys went on.

Some one must have told Sandy Merton what Bart said about his being released from the team, for the next day he approached the nine’s captain on the school campus.

“I hear you said I couldn’t play on the team any more,” Sandy said to Bart.

“That’s what I did. Who told you?”

“That’s none of your affair. But I tell you I am going to play.”

“You refused to obey an order from the captain,” said Bart. “Not that I’m better than any of the other players, but they elected me captain and I’m going to run the nine or resign. You can’t play as long as I’m captain.”

“We’ll see how long you’ll be captain then,” muttered Sandy, as he walked away.

“Think he means anything?” asked Fenn of Bart.

“I don’t care whether he does or not. I’m sorry to have to act that way, but if the team’s going to amount to anything it’s got to obey orders. If you fellows don’t want me for captain, say the word and I’ll resign.”

“Resign nothing!” exclaimed Ned. “I’d like to see you do it. Eh, fellows?”

“That’s right!” came from the crowd that had heard what Sandy said.

“Let’s go for a row on the river after school,” suggested Bart to his chums during the noon recess, and they agreed. The boys jointly owned a well-equipped boat in which they frequently made trips down to the lake. It was a four-oared barge, roomy and comfortable, though not speedy.

“Shall we bring our fishing tackle along?” asked Ned.

“You can if you like,” replied Bart. “I’m not going to. I’m just going to take it easy.”

Quite a crowd of boys went to the river after school. Some took their swimming suits, while others went to fish or row, as a number of them had boats. The four chums soon got their craft out from the house, at a public dock, where it was kept.

“Who’ll row?” asked Frank.

“Draw lots,” suggested Bart, and the choice fell to Ned and Fenn.

“Up or down?” asked Fenn.

“Row up and float down,” said Ned. “We don’t want to be working all the while.”

They went up the stream for two or three miles, and Frank, who had borrowed Ned’s fishing tackle, cast in. But the fish did not seem to be biting.

“Put up a little further,” suggested Frank. “We’re almost to the Riffles. I’d like to get a bite as long as I’m at it.”

As the boat was sent round a turn of the river the boys caught sight of another craft in which a man was seated. His boat appeared to be anchored, and as he stood in the bow he reached down into the water with a long pole and seemed to be pulling something up.

He did this several times, and on each occasion would carefully examine the end of the pole which he had stuck into the river.

“That’s an odd proceeding,” remarked Bart, as he looked at the lone boatman.

CHAPTER IX
A PLOT AGAINST BART

The man seemed to pay no attention to the approach of the boys’ boat. He kept on dipping the long pole into the water, shoving it down as far as it would go, and then carefully examining the end of it. As the chums came nearer they saw he was conducting his investigations by means of a large magnifying glass.

“Must be small fish he’s after,” observed Frank.

“Why it’s the luna – ” began Fenn, as he looked at the man, whose boat was now opposite that of the boys.

“Hush!” exclaimed Frank, and Fenn did not finish the sentence.

The chums saw the man was the strange person they had met in the woods. At the same time the fellow looked up and seemed to recognize them.

“Have you seen the King of Paprica?” he asked, as he laid down his pole and began to pull up the rope attached to a small anchor.

“Not to-day,” replied Bart. “What are you fishing for, if I may ask?”

“You certainly may,” was the answer. “I am probing for bullets.”

“For bullets?”

“Yes, you see the king observed some one shooting up the river last night, and he directed me to probe for the bullets.”

“Shooting up the river?” inquired Ned.

“Yes, in a boat, you know. Did you think I meant a gun? How could one shoot up in a gun? But don’t mention to the king that you saw me. He’s not expecting to hear from me, and it might annoy him,” and the man allowed the boat to drift down stream again before he brought it to anchor. Then he began sticking the pole down into the mud and resumed his operation of examining the end with the magnifying glass.

“Crazy as a loon,” remarked Frank, in a low tone. “Row on, fellows.”

“I’d like to go ashore and have a look into that hut,” remarked Ned.

“Better not,” cautioned Frank. “There!” he exclaimed, “I’ve got one,” and he pulled in a fine large fish.

He had several bites after that, and, becoming interested in his success, Ned and Fenn rowed further up stream where the fishing was better. Frank caught eight fish before the boys decided to go home. They looked for the strange man in the boat, as they floated past where he had been, but he was not in sight, nor was his craft to be seen.

“Something’s up,” remarked Ned to Bart, as they met the next Monday on the school campus.

“What do you mean?”

“Keep your eye on Sandy Merton.”

Indeed Sandy did seem to be unusually busy. He went about from one part of the grounds to another, talking first with one boy and then with another. Most of them were lads with whom the chums were not on very familiar terms.

“What do you s’pose he’s up to?” asked Bart.

“Can’t guess, unless it has something to do with baseball.”

“I’m going to find out,” spoke Bart.

He approached one of the boys with whom he had seen Sandy conversing.

“What was Sandy asking you, if it’s no secret?” inquired the captain of the nine.

“Well, it is a sort of secret,” replied Fred Jenkins. “You’ll hear of it soon enough though,” and he turned away.

“Looks like a plot,” commented Ned with an uneasy laugh.

Several other boys, whom Bart asked regarding Sandy’s activities, returned evasive answers. None of the intimate friends of the chums had been approached. Bart had no time to pursue his inquiries further as the bell rang for school to assemble.

At noon, however Sandy’s actions were explained. On a bulletin board, used to post announcements of athletic and other school events, was this notice:

“There will be a meeting of the Athletic Committee this afternoon to take action on a certain matter.”

“That’s some of Sandy’s work,” said Bart. “Well I’m ready for whatever happens.”

Several boys crowded around the board to read the notice. Sandy was not among them.

“Who wrote it?” inquired a number.

“Whoever did was afraid to sign his name,” commented Bart. “It’s in printing, so we couldn’t tell whose writing it is. Well, I’ll be at the meeting.”

It was an expectant group that gathered in the court which was used, after school, for sessions of the various clubs and teams. Sandy was on hand, talking earnestly to a number of the pupils. Finally he walked up to the big iron post where the chairman of whatever gathering was called, usually stood.

“We’re here to elect a new captain of the High School baseball nine,” Sandy announced.

“What’s that?” asked several, and the four chums looked at one another.

“I’m a member of the Athletic Committee,” went on Sandy. “I called this meeting.”

“It takes a majority of the committee to call a session,” interrupted Ned.

“Well, a majority did,” responded Sandy. “Fred Jenkins, Peter Rand, and John Andrews, with myself, constitute a majority. There are only seven members. Now we’ve decided to have an election for a new captain,” Sandy went on. “There’s some objection to the present one,” and he looked at Bart.

“Who from?” called Fenn.

“Plenty; ain’t there fellows?” asked Sandy, turning to a group of his friends.

“Yes,” came the rather feeble answers.

“I move that Lem Gordon be made captain,” called Fred Jenkins, evidently in furtherance of the plot Sandy had laid to oust Bart.

“Second it,” came from Peter Rand.

“Look here!” exclaimed Bart, and his friends noticed he was pale. “Why didn’t you come to me like a man, Sandy Merton, and tell me there was opposition? I’d have resigned in a minute. But this is a sneaky way of doing things and I’ll fight it, do you understand? I’ll resign if the majority says I ought to but not before. Now go ahead and hold your election!”

“Hurrah for Bart!” called some one and there was a loud shout.

“Order!” vainly called Sandy.

“We don’t want an election!” sang out another boy. “Bart is the best captain we ever had! Didn’t we lick the Preps?”

“That’s right!” yelled a number. “Bart for captain!”

“Let them have the election!” cried Bart. “I’m not afraid. I know what it’s all about. It’s because I didn’t let Sandy pitch that game. And what’s more,” he added, “I believe he deliberately put Lem out of business so he might have a chance!”

“That’s a falsehood!” cried Sandy, making a spring toward Bart.

“Ask Lem,” was Bart’s reply. “If you want to fight, Sandy Merton, come on!”

“Don’t talk that way,” counseled Ned. “Let’s see if we can’t settle this thing peaceably.”

“Go on with the election!” called Bart, who was getting excited. “I’m not afraid! I’ll resign if you want me to!”

“We don’t want you to!” cried a score of voices.

“All those in favor of Lem Gordon for captain say ‘aye,’” called Sandy.

“I won’t take it!” shouted Lem. “Bart’s the captain for me.”

“That’s right!” yelled a dozen voices.

“All those who want Bart to continue captain say so!” cried Ned.

“Yes!” and the shout made the windows rattle.

“That settles it. Election’s over,” declared Ned.

“I say it isn’t!” yelled Sandy. “The rules provide for ballots.”

“This is good enough for us,” came from a number of boys, as they crowded around Bart to shake hands. “Bart’s the captain!”

“That was a mean, sneaking plot!” declared Ned. “Sandy thought he could work up enough sentiment against Bart to get a candidate of his own in and get back on the team. But he failed.”

“You bet he did!” exclaimed Fenn. “Come on, fellows. It’s all over.”

Most of the boys began leaving the court. Sandy, the picture of disappointed rage, stood in a group of his friends.

“Thanks to all who voted for me,” called Bart, as he made his way out past where Sandy stood.

“I’ll get even with you!” growled Sandy. “You think you’re the Czar of the school!”

“If you – ” began Bart hotly, but Ned spoke:

“Don’t pay any attention to him. You’ll only get into trouble. It’s all over. It was only a trick of Sandy’s. He hasn’t ten friends in the whole school.”

CHAPTER X
A COW IN SCHOOL

The boys thronged from the court and out on the campus. There was a buzz of talk about what had taken place and Sandy came in for a severe “raking over the coals.”

“What did you mean by saying he hurt Lem on purpose?” asked Newton Bantry, a member of the nine.

“You ask Sandy and maybe he’ll tell you,” replied Bart. “I’m sorry I said it, and I won’t refer to it again. I may have been mistaken.”

“I guess Sandy won’t give us much chance to ask him anything,” said Newton.

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to leave school. I just heard him telling some of his cronies, those who were in the game with him. He says it’s almost the end of the term, and he’s going to work.”

“Well it’s small loss,” put in Ned. “Though he’s a good ball player when he wants to take the pains. The trouble is he’s too fond of playing tricks.”

There was no further dissension in the nine, and under Bart’s leadership it won several more games. The “Preps.” challenged the boys again, but, though the high school boys did their best, they could not win. They were beaten by one run, but that was regarded as a great achievement against the redoubtable nine of older lads, and almost equivalent to a victory.

The weeks passed, and the end of the school term came nearer. Examinations were the order of the day, and the chums had little time to go off on trips along the river save on Saturdays. They made several excursions into the woods, and kept a lookout for the two queer men, but did not see them.

One day Ned went off alone in a search for the hut with the strange inscription. But he could not find it. Either he could not locate the place where he had seen it or the cabin had been moved.

“I’d like to get at the bottom of this,” he murmured, as he tramped back home. “There’s a method in the madness of those men, I’m sure.”

But, if there was, Ned little dreamed what it portended.

“To-morrow’s the last day of school this term,” remarked Fenn, one afternoon as he and his chums strolled home. “My, but I’m glad of it! Those exams., especially the algebra, nearly floored me. Lucky there’s no more.”

“Never mind,” said Bart. “Forget it. We’ll have a lot of sport to-morrow. We can cut up a bit and the teachers won’t mind.”

“That’s so,” spoke Ned. “I’ve got to do something. I can feel it in my bones! Whoop! It must be something worthy of the Darewell Chums!” He began to do an impromptu war dance.

“Don’t get us into trouble,” came from Frank.

“Trouble? Did I ever get you into trouble?”

“Oh, no,” replied Bart sarcastically. “There wasn’t any trouble when you put the live frogs in Miss Mapes’s desk and scared her and all the other women teachers nearly into fits. There wasn’t any trouble when you let a lot of mice loose in the girls’ department. There wasn’t any trouble when you brought Jimmy Dodger’s pet coon in and yelled that it was a skunk. We didn’t get blamed for it all, did we? Oh, no, I guess not. Say, Ned, if you’re going to cut up, send in an advance notice that it’s your own doings and none of ours.”

“All right,” responded Ned. “If I get up the scheme myself I’ll take all the credit.”

“You’re welcome to it,” spoke Frank. “The credit – and what comes after.”

“Are you going to do anything?” asked Bart.

“Witness is not prepared to answer,” was Ned’s reply. “I may and I may not.”

If Ned’s chums could have seen him an hour later, talking to a farmer who lived about a mile outside of the town, they would have had grave suspicions regarding what he proposed to do to make the last day of school memorable.

The morning session of the last day passed off quietly enough. There was not much done in the way of lessons. Some students arranged with their teachers to do some studying during vacation to make up “conditions,” and others were consulting with the instructors about the work for next term.

Professor McCloud announced that the closing exercises would be held in the afternoon, the boys and girls assembling in the large auditorium on the second floor.

“I don’t see that you’re going to make good about that trick of yours,” observed Fenn to Ned at the noon recess.

“Who said I was going to play any trick?”

“Why I thought – ”

“The day isn’t over yet,” said Ned, with a wink.

At one o’clock the boys and girls gathered in the large hall. Ned’s chums noticed he was not on hand, and they looked wonderingly at each other. There was no telling when or where Ned would break out.

A program of vocal and instrumental music was rendered and then came several recitations. It was while Jennie Smith was in the midst of a dramatic rendering of a poem telling of a maiden waiting and listening for the approach of her lover. She reached the lines:

 
“I feel his presence near me in the mystic midnight air
I hear his footsteps coming, coming up the castle stair – ”
 

At that moment there were, unmistakably, footsteps on the stair, only they were the stairs leading up from the court and not into a castle. Heavy footsteps they were, not at all lover-like. Up and up they came, sounding like several men with heavy boots on. Jennie paused, as she stood on the platform, and listened. The steps came nearer.

An instant later the door, which was not closed tightly, was pushed open, and into the big auditorium, in front of the pupils ambled a gentle-eyed cow, that, giving one astonished look around, uttered a loud “Moo!”