Loe raamatut: «Bobby Blake at Rockledge School: or, Winning the Medal of Honor», lehekülg 6

CHAPTER XII
IN THE DORMITORY

By supper time Bobby and Fred knew ten boys to speak to – without counting Jack Jinks, Bill Bronson, and the school captain, Barrymore Gray. The latter they did not see at all again until they beheld him sitting at the doctor's right hand at the head of the "upper table," as they soon learned to call the one around which the head scholars and the assistant master sat with Dr. Raymond. The junior teachers sat at the heads of the other tables and kept order.

Rockledge was divided into the Upper School and the Lower School. Bobby and Fred would of course be in the Lower, but just how they would be placed in classes they would not know until the real business of the school opened on Monday.

The supper was plentiful, but plain. Bobby missed Meena's sweet cakes and hot tea-biscuit, and Fred whispered that there was hayseed in the strawberry jam, so he knew it was not "home made."

Pee Wee sat across the table from them and ate steadily, showing beyond peradventure that his plumpness arose from a very natural cause!

Until eight o'clock the boys were allowed to frolic outside as they wished, no tasks being set them as yet. Bobby noticed that one of the junior teachers was always within sight, while Captain Barry Gray, and some of the older fellows, were grouped on the main steps of the dormitory building, swapping vacation experiences.

Bobby noticed that Barry was always very well dressed – indeed, richly dressed, beside many of the boys – so he made up his mind that the school captain must come from a wealthy home.

Bill Bronson jingled money in his pockets and wore a handsome gold watch and a diamond pin in his tie. Most of the smaller boys, however, were no better dressed than Bobby and Fred.

Taken altogether, the boys who appeared at the supper table were a bright and interesting looking crowd. Bobby was sure he was going to be happy here, and Fred was already on terms of intimacy with half a dozen of the chaps about their own age.

The boys from Clinton chanced to be the only new ones to enter Rockledge this semester. There was usually a long waiting list, but Mr. Martin's influence had gained Bobby the chance to attend with Fred, because the two boys were chums.

Before they left the supper table the doctor arose and walked down the line of smaller tables and shook hands with each boy, called him by name, and welcomed him again to the school.

To some he said a word of warning, but all in a cheerful way that took the sting out of the admonition. He evidently knew the failings of each boy, and had studied their characters carefully.

When he came to Bobby and Fred he placed a hand on each boy's shoulder and said, so that all the school could hear:

"Our two new friends. I hope all of you will welcome them kindly. Make them feel at home."

This was before the evening run outside. Bobby and Fred were taken into a noisy game of "relievo," and the great clock in the tower chiming eight was all that brought the fun to a close.

The students filed into the library and general study-room on the first floor of the main building. For an hour every night the boys were allowed to read or play quiet games here. It was a cheerful, bright room, with rugs on the floor, and pretty hangings, and comfortable chairs. Although one of the teachers was always present, there was a feeling of freedom among the boys, and they could talk or read, as they pleased – just so they were not noisy.

When nine struck in the tower, they filed upstairs to bed. There was plenty of time to undress and prepare for bed before the half hour struck. Bobby and Fred found that the older boys in the small rooms were allowed to remain up a half hour longer than those occupying the big dormitories.

Captain Gray came in and advised the small boys to lay their clothing carefully on their chairs as they removed the garments.

"Part of the fire drill, you know," he said, cheerfully. "Coat and vest over the back of the chair. Pants folded nicely and laid across the back, too. Here, Pee Wee! None of that! Shake out your stockings and hang them on the chair-round. Shoes each side of the chair as you take them off – right and left. That's it."

He walked up and down between the rows of beds. He told Bobby and Fred just how to distribute the remainder of their garments so that they would be easily at hand if there came an alarm.

"Of course, there's no danger, and there are plenty of fire escapes and all that," said the big boy, cheerfully. "But the Old Doctor insists upon our being ready for any emergency. Some night you'll be waked up by the fire bell and find drill is called. Want to be ready for it."

Then he glanced again at Fred's chair. "Hi, Ginger!" he said. "Put your boots straight. Your left one's on your right side, and vice versa."

There was a good deal of fun at Fred's expense when Barry had gone. "Hi, Ginger!" resounded from all parts of the room; Fred Martin had won a distinctive nickname on the spot, and he didn't like it much.

"I knew I shouldn't like that big fellow," he confessed to Bobby. "And I'll lick some of these kids yet, if they keep on calling me Ginger."

"No, you won't," declared Bobby. "You know you won't. They all have nicknames, too. Yours is no worse than 'Pee Wee,' or 'Shiner,' or 'Buck,' or 'Skeets.' They'll stick me with one yet."

"But 'Ginger' – "

"Aw, stop your kicking," advised his chum. "It won't get you anywhere."

There was still a buzz of voices as the twenty boys finished getting ready for bed. The door opened and Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, from their room across the hall, looked in.

"Sleep with an eye open, you kids," Bill ordered, in a shrill whisper. "Something doing by and by."

"Oh, what, Bill?" cried Purdy, near the door.

"Somebody's got to ride the goat," chuckled the squint-eyed boy, looking over his chum's shoulder.

At that several of the others looked at Bobby and Fred, and chuckled. The two Clinton boys did not hear this by-play. Bill and his chum looked over at the newcomers with wide grins.

Just at this moment Bobby was completely ready for bed and he dropped upon his knees before his chair at the head of the bed and proceeded to say his prayers as he always did at home. Fred, after a moment's hesitation, followed suit.

Instantly a hush fell upon the room. The boys who had been gabbling together stopped because they saw the facial expression of those boys grouped at the doorway. Everybody turned to look at the corner occupied by the chums from Clinton.

The silence was but for a moment. Then Bill laughed and took one long stride to the nearest bed. He snatched up a pillow and sent it with unerring aim and considerable force at the back of Bobby's head.

The pillow reached its mark, and Bobby jumped. But he did not rise until his prayer was completed. A second pillow came his way, while Jack and some of the other spectators laughed immoderately.

Fred Martin jumped up with an angry exclamation. Perhaps he did not finish his prayer at all. He grabbed one of the pillows which had struck his chum and made for Bill Bronson at the other end of the room.

"You big bully!" he exclaimed, all the rage which he had bottled up that day boiling over in an instant, "You big bully! Can't you leave a peaceable fellow alone?"

He slammed the yellow-haired youth over the head, and struck him so hard that the pillow-case burst and the feathers began to fly. Bill uttered a roar of rage, and tried to seize him.

"Don't, Fred! Stop! Stop!" called Bobby, from the other end of the room.

Fred Martin had gone too far to stop now. He expected to take a thrashing for his boldness, but meanwhile he was filling Bronson's eyes and mouth with feathers.

Jack Jinks put out his foot and tripped the smaller boy up. Fred fell with Bill on top of him. The bigger boy began to use his fists.

"No fair! Let him up, Bill!" cried two or three.

"Shut up!" ordered Jack, putting his back against the closed door. "You kids that holler will get all that's coming to you."

Bobby came running up the room to help his chum, and at just that instant the door knob was turned and the door was burst in, sending Jack sliding half way across the room.

"Cheese it!" squealed Pee Wee, jumping into bed with his trousers on.

But it was only Barry Gray who appeared.

"Hello! Can't keep quiet the first night, eh?" demanded the captain. "What you doing in here, Jack?"

Then he saw Bill Bronson on top of the struggling Fred. Bill had got in one savage punch and there was blood flowing from Fred's nose upon the burst pillow.

Captain Gray seized Bill by the back of his collar and with both hands jerked him to his feet. Bill squealed like a rat, thinking the Old Doctor himself had come to Fred's rescue.

"Ow! Ow! Ouch!" he squealed. "Aw —you! Let me alone, Barry Gray. This isn't any of your business."

"All right. I'll pass it up to the teachers if you say so," snapped the captain.

"Aw – well – "

"Hold on!" commanded Barry, stepping in front of Jack who was sneaking out of the room "You're in this, too."

"No, I'm not," said Jack.

"You were holding the door," said Barry. "Stop here till we hear what's the trouble."

Half a dozen shrill voices tried to tell him at once. But Barry pointed at Fred. "You tell," he said.

"I hit him with the pillow," growled Fred, ungraciously enough.

Barry glanced down the room toward Fred's bed. "It isn't your pillow," he said. "Did he shuck the pillow at you first?"

"No," said Fred, determined not to "snitch."

But Howell Purdy didn't feel that way about it. He said to the captain:

"Bill Bronson began it. He fired a couple of pillows at Bobby Blake when Bobby was saying his prayers. Then Fred went for him."

Barry looked from Fred's flushed and bloody face to Bobby's pale one. He said nothing for a moment to either of them, but turned on Bill Bronson.

"You know the rules. You had no business in this dormitory – neither you nor Jack."

"I suppose you'll tell on us," snarled Bill. "Of course! I knew what a tattle-tale you'd be just as soon as the Old Doc appointed you captain last June. He did it so that he'd be sure to have somebody to run to him with every little thing."

"Maybe," returned Barry, flushing. "But he doesn't call it a little thing for two boys to fight in a dormitory."

"Yah!" snarled Bill.

"Give me a fair chance and I'll fight him anywhere!" declared the belligerent Fred, sopping the blood with a handkerchief that Bobby had brought him.

"You are one plucky kid," said Barry, quickly. "But if there has got to be a fight, it must be between two fellows more evenly matched. I leave it to the room: Is a fight fair between Bronson and Martin!"

"No!" cried the boys in chorus.

"But Bill Bronson started the fight, so he ought to be accommodated," Captain Gray said. "Isn't that right?"

Some of the boys giggled. Fred muttered: "Let me fight him. I'm not afraid."

"If Bill doesn't want me to go to the Doctor with this, he'll have to abide by my decision, won't he?" proceeded Barry, his eyes twinkling.

"Sure!" cried the crowd, led by Pee Wee, now delighted by what they saw was coming.

"Aw, you're too fresh," grumbled the bully.

"That's not the question," said Barry. "Do you agree?"

"To what?"

"To have me set the punishment for this infraction of the rules, instead of putting it up to the Old Doctor?"

"Well!"

"You, too, Jack?" demanded Barry of the squinting fellow.

"Yes," muttered the latter.

"All right. Then I announce that as Bill wants to fight, he shall be accommodated. Jack is a good match for him. Isn't that so, boys?"

There was a storm of giggling. The two bullies looked at each other and grinned. The idea of them fighting each other was preposterous – or, so it seemed.

"And for fear," said the captain, his eyes twinkling, "that they won't play fair, if they are matched in a regular fight, we'll make it a 'poguey fight' to-morrow morning at nine – in the gym. Now, you two fellows run to your rooms – and show up at nine in the gym, or I'll come after you."

He drove the bullies out of the room before him, and then went himself. There was a subdued whispering and giggling all over the dormitory.

"What's a 'poguey fight'?" demanded Bobby, of Pee Wee, in some alarm.

The fat boy was rocking himself to and fro on the bed in huge delight, and could scarcely answer for laughing.

"You wait and see," he finally chuckled, "It's more fun than the Kilkenny cats!"

CHAPTER XIII
THE POGUEY FIGHT

Fred staunched his bleeding nose at the basin in the corner, and then exchanged pillows with Howell Purdy. Fred slept on the burst one.

"I'll get into trouble anyway over this," Fred growled in Bobby's ear. "I wish I could have hit that mean bully just once with something hard."

Bobby hadn't the heart to scold. Fred had attacked a much bigger boy than himself just because that bully had flung a pillow at Fred's chum. That was the impulsive way of Fred Martin. Bobby knew that his chum was going to have a hard row to hoe here at Rockledge, unless he learned to control his temper.

Bobby Blake had some difficulty in getting to sleep that night – and that was not usually the case with him. The plan of Bill and Jack to haze the two newcomers to Rockledge had evidently been stopped. The dormitory was not disturbed until morning, save that once in the night Pee Wee had a nightmare and groaned and fought, until the next fellow to him punched him and woke him up.

"Wow!" said the fat boy, "I thought I was up in a balloon and they wanted to put me out instead of dropping sandbags."

"Don't eat so much at supper; then you won't dream such stuff," growled Mouser Pryde, punching his pillow and settling down again.

The rising bell at half past six got everybody but Pee Wee out of bed. Mouser pulled off the bed clothes, but that did not start the fat boy, and finally, when the others were half dressed, Mouser tiptoed over from the basins with a glass of water, and let the drops trickle down, one by one, upon Perry's fat neck.

"Ow! ow! ouch!" bawled Pee Wee. "Something's sprung a leak. Let me up before I drown!"

He struck the floor before he was half awake and landed in his bare feet upon a set of "jacks" that Shiner had conveniently dropped on the rug.

"Ow! what are these things? Wow! I'll bet I can't walk at all now."

"They hurt worse than the stone bruise, eh?" asked Bobby, grinning.

"These fellows are always playing jokes on me," grumbled Pee Wee. "And I never do a living thing to hurt them."

The fat boy was a tempting subject for a joke, and he probably was the butt more often than anybody else.

While they were dressing, Fred almost got in a fight with Shiner because the latter called him "Ginger." Bobby took his chum aside.

"Now, Fred, that name's bound to stick," he said. "What's the use of getting mad at it? They all like you; no use in making enemies. Take it laughingly."

"That's because of Smartie Gray," grumbled Fred. "He called me 'Ginger' first."

"That isn't as bad as 'Bricktop'," suggested Bobby, smiling. "You ought to be glad it's no worse. I expect they'll find a nickname for me pretty soon, that will be a corker!"

At seven the bell rang again and they all marched down to breakfast. Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks scowled at Bobby and Fred on the stairs, but the captain was near and they did not say a word to the chums.

Before the boys separated, the first master, Mr. Leith, said:

"Young gentlemen: Doctor Raymond will see you all in the hall at eleven. Nobody is to be out of bounds this morning. Be prompt at eleven, remember. You are excused."

Bobby thought Mr. Leith a very grim and serious gentleman indeed.

As the smaller boys scurried out of the hall to the porch, they found a steady stream of boys going down the basement steps to the gymnasium. Howell Purdy and Shiner were set, one on either side of the doorway, where they whispered to those who passed:

"Poguey fight in the gym at nine. Don't forget the poguey fight."

"What is that, Shiner?" asked Bobby.

"You don't want to miss it," grinned Shiner. "You and your chum are at the bottom of it."

"But we're not going to fight," declared Bobby.

"No. But Bill and Jack are. No fear!"

Bobby and Fred did not go down into the basement at once. There was still an hour before the time set by Captain Gray, the evening before, for the mysterious "poguey fight." Nobody whom the chums asked would tell them any particulars.

"I expect I'll get into trouble over bloodying that pillow," said Fred. "What shall I tell them if they ask me?"

"Say your nose bled," returned Bobby. "If they ask you how it came to bleed, that's another question."

"Well, that's the question I'm afraid of."

"Wouldn't you tell on that Bill Bronson?"

"No. The other boys would say I snitched. I hate him, but I won't snitch on him," declared Fred.

"Maybe nobody will ask you. And Barry Gray will take your side."

"I don't want him to take my side," growled Fred. "He's a big fellow, too, and expects to be toadied to."

"You're making a mistake about him, I think," said Bobby, mildly. He knew it was no use to argue the matter with his chum.

They walked out across the campus to the railing that bordered the edge of the bluff. They were standing there looking across the beautiful lake, and talking, when there was a sudden scrimmage over on one of the tennis courts.

"Hello! a fight!" exclaimed Fred, with lively interest.

"Pshaw!" said Bobby, with some disgust. "You're always looking for a fight!"

"I'm not either! What do you call that?" denied and demanded Fred in the same breath.

"It's the captain," said Bobby, slowly. "And some of the big fellows – I know! they're dragging Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks away to the gym. There's going to be something doing – "

Just then Pee Wee appeared at the corner of the main building and yodled for the Clinton boys, beckoning them across the campus with excited gestures.

"Come o-o-on!" bawled the fat boy.

Fred grabbed Bobby's hand and started running. The chums were at the gym steps almost as quickly as the big fellows and their captives.

"You let me alone, Barry Gray!" yelled Bill, as he was shoved down the steps. "I'll fix you for this."

"Thanks, Billy Bronson. I can do my own fixing. You agreed to this, and you'll go through with it," Barry said, firmly.

"I didn't do a thing," Jack was urging.

"Ah! but you're going to," chuckled Barry, who seemed to have answers ready for both objectors.

The bullies were dragged below. The smaller boys followed. Every boy in the school was waiting in the gymnasium, and no teacher – not even the athletic instructor – was present.

Some of the boys had been at work on the bars, or the ladder, or otherwise using the gymnastic paraphernalia. They all gathered around in interest to see what the big boys were going to do with the bullies.

Bill Bronson and his chum kicked and struggled for a time. But there were enough to help Barry, so that their struggles were useless. The bullies' shoes were quickly removed, despite their kicking. Then a sort of harness made of straps was buckled around both boys under their arms. There was a steel ring sewed into the crosspiece of each harness at the back.

Somebody produced eight objects that looked like huge boxing-gloves – only they were made of cotton cloth stuffed with cotton-batting. One of these clumsy things was strapped on each foot, and another on each hand. The victims of the joke were now unable to hurt any of their captors when they struck out at them, and the crowd was greatly amused as well as excited.

"Come on, now!" panted Barry. "Boost them up here. Throw the rope over a couple of rungs of the ladder, Max. That's it."

The rope in question was a strong manilla, about four feet long. At each end was a snap, such as is spliced upon the ends of hitch-ropes.

Two boys lifted each of the embarrassed prisoners, and held them under the ladder. The snaps were fastened in the rings back of their shoulders.

There they hung, kicking and sprawling. At first Barry Gray and Max Bender, one of the other big boys, held the victims.

"Here you are now," said Captain Gray, sternly. "You wanted to fight a fellow much smaller than yourself last night, Bill; and you agreed to take on a fellow nearer your size. Here's Jack willing to accommodate you. Now, go to it, you chaps, and may the best man win!"

He and Max both stepped back, dragging their prisoners with them, and then they let the two helpless ones swing together.

Their heads bumped. Bill let out a roar and tried to kick Max with one of his muffled feet. In doing so his other foot caught Jack above the knee.

"Look out what you're doing – you chump!" exclaimed Jack. "Keep still, can't you?"

"Keep still yourself," growled Bill, as his gyrating friend collided with him again with some force. He tried to push Jack away. At once the latter put out his mittened hand and punched Bill between the eyes.

"Look out what you're doing!" yelled Bill, striking madly at his opponent.

In a moment they were at it! The poguey fight was on. The two erstwhile chums swung over the rungs of the horizontally laid ladder, like the famous Kilkenny cats, punched and kicked and batted at each other in a most ridiculous manner.

They couldn't hurt each other very much, save when they bumped heads, and that was not often. But they grew madder every moment.

The spectators were delighted, and the harder the combatants tried to strike each other, the more ridiculous the whole thing appeared.

Why it was called "poguey" nobody seemed to know, but Bobby discovered that it had long been practiced at Rockledge School, and that usually the two victims accepted the situation philosophically and did not really get mad.

The two bullies, however, had never learned to control their tempers. Besides, both considered that the other was somewhat to blame for their predicament.

The battle continued, fast and furious. Bill Bronson's face was blazing. Jack Jinks' was very ugly indeed to look at. If they could have torn the gloves off their hands they would have done so and struck each other with their bare fists.

Suddenly Jack drew up his knee as they swung together, and he caught Bill right in the belt. It was a solid blow and the victim uttered a cry of anger and pain. Captain Gray stepped forward and stopped the two from swinging together again.

"Foul blow," he said, decidedly. "You know the penalty well enough, Jack. When you're let down, Bill's got the right to punch you with his bare fist – if he likes."

"And if he does, I'll hand him all he's looking for," declared the squint-eyed youth, glaring at the boy who had been his chief friend.

"Do it, and you'll get what's coming to you!" threatened Bill, just as angrily.

Barry winked at Max Bender. "Let's take them down. I guess they won't be half so thick hereafter – and then maybe some of the little fellows will have a better time."