CHAPTER VIIITHE PEEP-SHOWVery early on Saturday morning Bobby and Fred went down to Hurley Street and hung the painted banners upon the front of the show tent. As to their beauty, there might have been some question, but Fred had painted the words clearly, and there could be no mistaking their meaning.The sheets on which the signs were painted stretched across the width of the tent, and the upper line read:FOUR MARVELS OF THE WORLDUnderneath this startling statement, in no less emphatic letters, appeared the following:ON EXHIBITION:The Strongest Man in the WorldThe Handsomest Woman in the WorldThe Prettiest Girl in the WorldThe Smartest Boy in the WorldThe surprising nature of these signs began to draw a crowd almost at once—even before breakfast. The early comers were mostly boys, and Bobby and Fred were not yet ready to admit the curious.The chums kept perfectly serious faces and refused to answer any of the questions, or respond much to the raillery of their young friends."You know that ain't so, Bobby Blake!" exclaimed one boy. "You can't have all those people in that tent. And where'd you get them? Huh! 'Strongest man in the world.' Who's that? Sandow, or John L. Sullivan? Bet you jest got a picture of Samson throwin' down the pillars.""That's what it is—just pictures!" agreed the other curious ones.Fred grinned at them and was—wonderful to relate!—as silent as his chum. They had agreed to say nothing in response to the chaffing."And who was the handsomest woman in the world?" scoffed another boy, who was rather better informed than most of his mates. "Cleopatra, maybe! And she was blacker than our Phoebe who washes for my mother. All Egyptians are black.""I'd just like to know who you think is the prettiest girl, Bobby Blake?" demanded one of the bigger girls who went to school with the chums, her nose tip tilted to show her scorn. "What do you know about pretty girls?""If you want to see her, you can do so by paying your penny by and by," said Bobby politely."Humph! I'd like to see myself!" snapped the young lady—and at once went home and secured a penny for that very purpose!"I s'pose you've got a photograph of your own self in there for the smartest boy, Reddy Martin!" suggested one of the big fellows who dared give Fred this hated nickname."Well," drawled Fred, his eyes sparkling, "if it lay between you and me who was the smartest, I don't believeyou'dget any medal."The boys took turns breakfasting on crackers and cheese in Mr. Martin's store. Fred's father was greatly amused by the signs in front of the tent and he wanted a private view of the wonders. But he was politely refused."We can't begin the show till Bobby's made the lecture, Dad," declared Fred. "And we're not going to begin till there's a crowd on the street. We'll pass them right into the store here, and I bet you and the clerks will be too busy waiting on customers to see the show at all," and he chuckled.In only a single matter did the boys have help in the arrangements for the show. Mr. Blake, without being in the secret of the show itself, had written the lecture which Bobby was to deliver outside the tent every time a crowd gathered.Bobby put on a shabby drum-major's coat, with one epaulet, which had been found in the Martins' attic. On his head he perched an old silk hat belonging to his father, with the band stuffed out so that it would not slip down over his ears and hide his face entirely.He beat upon a tin pan with a padded drum-stick, and thus brought together the first crowd before the show-tent at about nine o'clock. His ridiculous figure and the noise of the drumming soon collected twenty or thirty grown people—mostly men at that hour—beside a crowd of boys, and a few timid girls who fringed the crowd.Having called his audience together, Bobby, with a perfectly serious face, began his speech which he had learned by heart, and spoke as well as ever he recited "a piece" on Friday afternoons at school:"Kind Friends:"This wonderful exhibition has been arranged for the sole purpose of extracting money from your pockets and putting it into ours. We make this frank announcement at the start so that there may be no misunderstanding."This marvelous Museum is not a charitable institution nor is it for the benefit of any philanthropic cause."It is merely an effort and an invention to promote good humor; any person unable to appreciate a joke on himself, or herself, is respectfully requested not to patronize our stupendous and surprising entertainment."Where before, in any conglomeration of Wonders of the World, have four such marvelous creatures been placed simultaneously on exhibition?"Now, kind friends, but one person is admitted to our entertainment at a time, and but one of these advertised marvels will be exhibited to each visitor. This is a positive rule that cannot be broken."The charge for our educational and startling exhibit is but a penny—a cent—the smallest coin of the realm. It will not make you, and it cannot break you."In addition, it is understood that the person paying his, or her, entrance fee to this Museum of Marvels, agrees to keep silent regarding what is shown within, for at least twenty-four hours. On that, and on no other terms, do we accept your penny."If one should not be satisfied that a penny's worth is given in exchange for the entrance fee, the same will be cheerfully refunded."Now, kind friends, one at a time," concluded Bobby, stepping down from the rostrum to the narrow entrance to the tent. "Form in line at the right, please. Have your pennies ready; we cannot make change. Doctor Truman is the first to enter the Hall of Marvels. Thank you, Doctor!" as the cheerful, chuckling physician, bag in hand, on his morning rounds to see his patients, pushed forward to the entrance of the tent.There was a good deal of hanging back at first. Bobby had expected that. And Fred might have lost hope had he been outside where he could see the crowd that began to dwindle away when Bobby's funny speech was finished.But in a moment the doctor's roar of laughter from within the tent brought some of the suspicious ones back. The doctor appeared at the store door, his plump sides shaking with laughter, and wiping the joyous tears from his eyes."What is it, Doc?" asked an old farmer. "What's them 'tarnal boys doin' in that tent?""Pay your penny and go in and see," exclaimed Doctor Truman, hurrying away. "If a laugh like that isn't worth a cent, I don't know what is!"Fred's whistle had announced the departure of the first visitor by way of the shop door, and Bobby urged up another:"Don't crowd, kind friends. The performance will continue all day and this evening—or until everybody desiring to do so has seen one of these four Wonders of the World."Jim Hatton, the harness maker, followed the doctor. He didn't laugh, but the curious ones heard him exclaim, a moment after his disappearance:"Well, I'll be jiggered!" which was Mr. Hatton's favorite expression, and he came out of the front door of Mr. Martin's shop, grinning broadly."What was it, Jim?" asked the same curious farmer."Can't tell ye, Jake. See it yourself—'nless you're afraid o' riskin' a penny to find out just how smart our boys here in Clinton be," and Mr. Hatton went off to his shop still grinning.Somebody pushed forward the very girl who had sharpened her wit on Bobby before the exhibition opened. She had her penny clutched tightly in her hand."Don't you let go of that cent, Susie," advised Bobby, grinning at her, "if you think you'll want it again for anything. For you won't be pleased by what you see—maybe."Susie tossed her head and went inside. In just a minute Fred blew his whistle and Susie, with flaming cheeks, appeared at the front door of the store."What was it, Susie?" demanded one of her friends."Which did you see—the strong man, or the handsome lady, or the pretty girl, or the smart boy?" cried another.But Susie shut her lips tightly, glanced once at Bobby, who was letting the curious old farmer pass into the tent, and then she ran home. The curiosity of the boys and girls mounted higher and higher.The old farmer popped out almost as quick as he popped in. He was chewing a straw vigorously, and his face was flushed. It was hard to tell for a moment whether he was mad, or not."Wal, Neighbor Jake, did yet git your money's wuth?" demanded another rural character.The bewhiskered old fellow turned on the speaker, and gradually a grin spread over his face."Say, Sam!" he drawled. "You never had none too much schoolin'. Your edication was frightfully neglected. You pay that there boy a cent and go in there, and you'll l'arn more in a minute than you ever did before in a day! You take it from me."Thus advised his neighbor pressed forward and was the next "victim." When he came out his face was red likewise, while Jake burst into a mighty roar of laughter and rocked himself to and fro on the horseblock in front of the store door.Soon the second farmer joined in the laughter, and thereafter, for an hour, the two stood about and urged everybody from out of town whom they knew to enter the peep-show.Occasionally Bobby mounted the platform, banged on the pan, and lifted up his voice in the speech Mr. Blake had written for him. It coaxed the people to stop before the show every time. And between whiles, Bobby kept repeating:"It is only a cent—and your money back if you are not satisfied! If it is a joke, keep it to yourself and let the next one find it out. Come on! Have your pennies ready, please, kind friends. See one of the four greatest wonders of the world."At first none of the ladies who were out shopping did more than stop and listen and wonder among themselves "what that Blake boy was up to now." But the girl who worked in Mr. Ballard's real estate office ran across the street to see what the crowd was about, and was tempted to enter the tent.She came out giggling, and greatly delighted, and pretty soon the girls who worked in the offices and stores along Hurley Street, were attracted to the show. They all seemed to be highly delighted, when they came out through the store."I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Hiram Pepper, to a neighbor, as they passed the peep-show again. "I've a mind to see what that means.""It's some foolishness," said her friend, who was a rather vinegary maiden lady named Miss Prissy Craven. "I wonder what that boy's mother can be thinking of!""Why, Mrs. John Blake is as nice a lady as there is in town," declared Mrs. Pepper. "And I must say for Bobby that he's never in any mischief. He's full of fun—like any boy. But there ain't asmitchof meanness in him.""Humph!" exclaimed the other lady, sourly."Now, you wait. I'm going in," declared Mrs. Pepper, fumbling in her purse for a penny.She marched up to Bobby, eyeing him rather sternly. To tell the truth, for the first time the young showman quailed."Maybe you'd—you'd better not go in, Mrs. Pepper," he mumbled."Why not? Ain't it fit for a lady to see?" demanded she, with increasing sternness."Oh, yes!" and Bobbyhadto giggle at that. "But—but—Well, anyway, you mustn't tell, and you can have your money back if you don't like the show.""Ha!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, "as though I was worried about the loss of a penny," and she went into the tent with her back very straight.She came out shaking with laughter. The tears rolled down her face and she had to sit down on Mr. Martin's steps to get her breath. Miss Prissy Craven demanded, sharply: "What under the sun is the matter with you, Mis' Pepper? I never seen you behave so. What is it in that tent them boys have got? I sh'd think it was a giggle ball full o' tickle!""Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the amused Mrs. Pepper. "You go in yourself, Prissy, and see what you think of it. I can't tell you.""I'm going!" announced the maiden lady, nodding her head. "But lemme tell you," she added to Bobby, "if it's anything I don't like, you'll hear about it when I come out."Bobby looked across at Mrs. Pepper doubtfully, but he had to grin. The lady who was laughing nodded to him vigorously, and he let Miss Craven through.In less than a minute she flounced through the store and demanded, in her high, rasping voice:"What did you mean by trickin' me that-a-way, Mis' Pepper? I never was so disgusted in all my life. A perfec' swindle—""You can get back your penny if you didn't like it," suggested Bobby, trying hard not to laugh."Well, I—"But Mrs. Pepper broke in upon the angry spinster's possible tirade: "Jest what did you see, Prissy?" she asked the angry one, with emphasis. Miss Craven's mouth remained open for fully half a minute, but no sound came forth. The blood mounted into her face, and then she shut her lips and started off hastily for her own home.Evidently she did not want to tell!This incident excited the curiosity of the bystanders more than ever. So far every person seeing the show had "played fair" and had refused to say what he or she had seen on the inside of the tent.Bobby had refused to let the smaller boys or girls into the show, telling them that late in the day they might see it for nothing. That had been agreed upon with Fred, for the proprietors of the entertainment were afraid that the little folk would be tempted to talk the matter over among themselves and thus spoil the fun—as well as reduce the receipts.And the pennies came in faster than Bobby or Fred had dared hope. During the morning those people who had business on Hurley Street came to see the show, and to listen to Bobby as "bally-hoo," and by noon-time wind of the peep-show had gone all over town.Bobby's mother, and Fred's, too, heard of it from their husbands at luncheon, and they decided to see what their young hopefuls were about. Bobby was just a little bit scared when he saw his mother; he didn't know whether she would see the joke as his father had, earlier in the day—for Mr. Blake had come out of the tent roaring with laughter."It beats anything how those two youngsters have got the whole town guessing," he had said to Mr. Martin. "And they have hit on a positive human failing that shows more sober thought than I believed either of them capable of.""Dare you let your mother in to see this show, Bobby Blake?" asked Mrs. Blake, seriously, when the boy's lecture—which he now rattled off glibly enough—was finished."There's no 'free list'," said Bobby, his eyes twinkling. "Pa told me to be sure not to let you in unless you paid. And I am sure, Mother, that you will see the handsomest woman in the world, if you want to, when you go inside.""I declare! you havemepuzzled, Bobby Blake," said easy going Mrs. Martin."Just a minute, please!" urged Bobby, detaining his chum's mother. "You'll have to take your turn. But one person is allowed to enter at a time. This way! this way, kind friends! The line forms on the right. Only a penny—a cent—the smallest coin of the realm. It won't make you and it can't break you!"The two mothers joined each other afterward outside of Mr. Martin's store. They looked into each other's faces wonderingly."What do you think of those boys?" demanded Mrs. Martin. "What will they do next?""I—I don't know," admitted Mrs. Blake, with a sigh. "But Idofear that they will turn that school they are going to this fall topsy-turvy!"CHAPTER IXOFF FOR ROCKLEDGETrade at the peep-show was brisk until mid-afternoon. Bobby and Fred had been able to get only a bite of luncheon from the store "in their fists," and had compared notes but seldom.Bobby's trouser-pockets were borne down with the weight of pennies. In refusing to make change it soon became very hard along Hurley Street to obtain pennies at all. All the copper money in the town was fast coming the way of the proprietors of the peep-show.Neither Bobby nor Fred realized this fact—nor what it meant to them—until after the First National and the Old Farmers' Banks had closed their doors for the day. The storekeepers then began running around to borrow copper money, and it was some time before anybody knew what made the scarcity of pennies in the storekeepers' tills!Meanwhile the financial adventure of Bobby Blake and Fred Martin was prospering.Bobby suddenly saw the long-armed, white-headed Applethwaite Plunkit standing in the crowd eying him while he delivered his talk. The crowd before the rostrum laughed as usual, and those who had been in to see the show urged their friends to venture likewise.The white-headed farm boy from Plunkit's Creek was pushing forward to enter the show. Bobby had hoped he would not venture, but when Ap approached, Bobby made up his mind quickly."You can't go in, Applethwaite," he said, decidedly. "We don't want you.""Why not!""Never mind why not," said Bobby, firmly, looking straight into the flushed face of the boy who had treated him and Fred so meanly just a week before. "But you can't go in.""Ain't my cent just as good as anybody else's?""Not here it isn't," declared Bobby, who knew very well that if the white head appeared in the tent where the red head was, there would be an explosion! Besides, he did not trust Ap. He believed Ap would do all he could to break up the show after he had seen it.Ap began to bluster and threaten, but there were too many grown folk around for him to dare attack Bobby. "You jes' wait," he whispered. "I'll fix you some time."Bobby did not know what Applethwaite might try to do, and when he saw him a little later with a group of boys who were pretty rough looking, he was worried. These boys stood across the street from the show and Bobby was afraid they were waiting for some slack time, when there were no grown folk about, to "rush" the tent.He called Fred out and told him what he feared and Fred went through and told the biggest clerk in his father's store. The clerks were interested in the two young showmen, for they had been into the tent and were delighted with what they had seen.The big fellow promised, therefore, to come running and bring the other clerks to help, if the boys whistled for assistance. This plan quieted Bobby's fears, and he gave his mind to the lecture, and to coaxing the audience into the show, one by one.Suddenly the young lecturer saw Mr. Priestly in the crowd. He flushed up pretty red when he saw him, for Mr. Priestly was the minister at the church the boys attended, and Bobby thought he was about the finest man in town.The clergyman was a young man who had made a name for himself in University athletics, and he had the biggest Boys' Club in town. Bobby and Fred were particular friends of the young minister, and for a moment Bobby wondered if Mr. Priestly would approve of the peep-show.The gentleman's ruddy, smoothly shaven face was a-smile as he listened to Bobby's speech, and his blue eyes twinkled. He was the first to reach the tent entrance when Bobby stepped down from the platform."Which wonder amIto see, Bobby?" he asked, as he presented his penny to the youthful showman."We—we favor the clergy, Mr. Priestly," said Bobby, hesitatingly, yet with an answering smile. "Youshall see two wonders." Then he called in to his partner: "Hey, Fred!""Hullo!" returned the red-haired one, coming to the entrance."Here's Mr. Priestly," said Bobby, in a low voice. "I want you to showhimthe strongest man in the world, and the very best man in Clinton!""Oh-ho!" cried Mr. Priestly. "That'sthe way of it, eh?" and he pinched Bobby's cheek as he went into the tent. "I believe I can guess your joke, boys.""Never mind! nobody else has guessed it," chuckled Fred, going before him. "Stand right there, Mr. Priestly."The oil lamp was in a bracket screwed to a post in the back of the tent. Just where its light shone best was a narrow red curtain. Fred became preternaturally solemn as he stepped forward and laid his hand upon the cords that manipulated the curtain."We will show you, Mr. Priestly," he said, "the Strongest Man in the World—and as Bobby says, the verybestman in Clinton!"He pulled aside the curtain and Mr. Priestly saw his own reflection in a long mirror that had been borrowed from the Martin attic."Well, well!" exclaimed the minister, nodding. "And is this all your show?""Anybody who is not satisfied with what hesees," returned Fred, chuckling, "can have the entrance fee refunded."At that the clergyman burst into a great laugh. "You boys! you boys! You certainly have themthere. One must be dissatisfied with himself to ask for the return of his penny. I—I am not altogether sure that this doesn't smack of a swindle; but it certainlyissmart. You should show your own face in the glass, Fred, when the younger victims come in to see the Smartest Boy in the World.""No, sir," grinned Fred. "Every fellow that comes in is better satisfied to see his own reflection, I reckon."The clergyman went out, laughing. That the joke had kept up all day was the wonder of it. The audience became smaller as supper time drew near.Then came Mr. Harrod, who kept the variety and ice cream store down the street. "Say," he said to Bobby. "You boys must have cornered all the pennies in town. I've got to have some. I'll give you a dollar bill for ninety cents, Bobby Blake.""All right, sir," cried Bobby. "Is a dollar's worth all you want? I'll send them down to your store in a few moments.""Send two dollars' worth," returned Mr. Harrod, hurrying away."Hi, Betty Martin!" shouted Bobby to Fred's "next oldest sister," who was on the fringe of the crowd. "Come here and count pennies—do, please!""Hi Betty Martin" stuck out her tongue promptly and did not stir. "Call me by my proper name, Mister Smartie!" she said, sharply."Oh, me, oh, my! I beg your pardon," laughed Bobby. "Miss Elizabeth Martin, will you please count some of these pennies and roll them into papers—right there on the box, please?""All right," said Betty, who did not like to be called after any Mother Goose character.She was a bright girl and she counted the pennies correctly into piles of thirty, rolled them up that way, carried six of the rolls down to the variety store, and brought back a two dollar bill.Then Mr. Martin needed copper money, and Betty counted a dollars' worth out for him—at the rate of exchange established by Mr. Harrod."Wow, Bobby!" murmured Fred, at the door of the tent. "We get them coming and going, don't we? Ten cents on the dollar, too! We're getting rich."But the peep-show had had its run. Not many could be coaxed in after supper, and the boys were tired, too. They had not eaten a proper meal all day, and Mr. Martin advised them to shut up shop.They took down the signs, put out the lamp, and went into the back room of the grocery to count the receipts. The amount was far beyond their expectations, and naturally Bobby and Fred were delighted."It takes you to think up the bright ideas, chum," said Fred, admiringly.But Bobby looked thoughtful. "I wonder if Mr. Priestly thought it was just right?" he murmured. "I suppose wedidfool them all," and he sighed."Shucks!" exclaimed Fred. "They didn't have to be fooled if they didn't want to. And even Prissy Craven didn't come back for her penny, did she?"Only a few days more before they would start for Rockledge School. The chums bought the bats and mask and other things they craved. They packed their trunks two or three times over. They carried the books they liked best, and many treasures for which their troubled mothers could see no reason whatsoever."Now, this can of pins and nails, Bobby," urged Mrs. Blake, helplessly. "Whatpossiblegood can they be? I do not see how I am to get your clothing into the trunk.""Aw—Mother!" gasped Bobby. "Don't throw them away. A fellow never can tell when he'll want a pin—or a nail—or a button—or something. Never mind putting in so many stockings. Leave the can—do, Mother!"All the Clinton boys who had been the chums' particular associates at school were greatly interested in what they termed Bobby's and Fred's "luck." They all had to be told, over and over again, of the expected wonders of Rockledge School."And I bet you and Fred turn things upside down there," said "Scat" Monroe, with an envious sigh."I bet we don't!" responded Bobby, quickly. "Dr. Raymond is awfully strict, they say. We'll have to walk a chalk line.""Well, if Fred Martin ever walks a chalk-line," scoffed another of the fellows, "it'll be a mighty crooked one!"However, the night before the boys were to start for Rockledge, the good natured groceryman gave his son a long talk, and Fred went to bed feeling pretty solemn. For the first time, he began to realize that he was not going away to boarding school merely for the fun there was to be got out of it!"You haven't made much of a mark for yourself in the Clinton Public School, Frederick," said Mr. Martin, sternly; "but I do not believe that is because you are either a dunce, or stubborn. You have been frittering away your opportunities."I am tired of seeing your name at the foot of your class roster—or near it. Inattention is your failing. You are going where they make boys attend. And if you do not work, and keep up with your mates, you will be sent home. Do you understand that?"And if you are sent home, you shall be sent to another school where you'll have very little fun at all for the rest of your life. I mean the School of Hard Experience!"You shall be set to work in my store half of each day, like a poor man's son, and go to the public school the other half day, and your name will be on the truant officer's list.""And I guess he meant it," said Fred to Bobby the next morning. "Father doesn't often scold, but he was mad at me for being so low in my classes last term."The boys started for the railroad station with Mr. Blake, gayly enough, however. When Bobby had parted from his mother, he had to swallow a big lump in his throat, and he hugged her around the neckhardfor a minute. But he had forced back the tears by the time they got to the Martins' house.There the other children were all out on the front porch to bid their brother and Bobby good-by. "Hi Betty Martin" threw an old shoe after them."For luck," she said. "That's what they do when folks get married.""But Bobby and I aren't getting married," complained Fred, rubbing his right ear where the shoe had landed. "And, anyway, no girl's got a right to shut her eyes tight and throw an old boot likethat. How'd you know you wouldn't do some damage?""That's the luck of it," chuckled Bobby. "It's lucky she didn't hurt you worse."CHAPTER XNEW SURROUNDINGSThe boys were so eagerly looking ahead that they scarcely gave a backward glance at Clinton, as the train rolled away. Mr. Blake had his paper and a whole seat to himself. Bobby and Fred occupied a seat ahead of him, and laughed and chattered as they pleased."This is only Friday," said Fred, "and classes don't begin at Rockledge until Monday. We'll have two whole days to get acquainted in. Do you s'pose there will be some of the boys at the Rockledge station to meet us?""And a brass band, too, maybe—eh?" chuckled Bobby. "I guess nobody but the principal of the school knows we're coming, Fred. We'll be new boys, and the bigger fellows will boss us around at first.""Huh! they can't bossmeif I don't want to be bossed," declared the pugnacious Fred."Don't you begin to talk that way," advised his chum. "We'll have to be pretty small potatoes at first.""I don't see why," grumbled Fred."You'll find out. My father went to a boarding school when he was a boy, and he told me," Bobby explained.They did not have to wait until reaching Rockledge to learn something about the temper of the boys with whom they would be associated. At Cambwell several students got aboard and came into their car. They were all older than Bobby and Fred, and they were very noisy and self-assertive.They sang, and joked together in the seats up front. Finally they spied the two boys from Clinton sitting in the middle of the car."Hullo!" exclaimed a tall, thin, yellow-haired boy who seemed to be a leader in the fun. "There's a couple of kids who look as though they'd just left home and mamma. Bet they're going with us."One of the other boys said something in a low tone, and then he and the yellow-haired one got up and came down the aisle."Say!" said the second boy, who was short and stocky and squinted his eyes up in a funny way when he talked. "Goin' to school, sonnies?""Yes, we are," said Fred, sharply."Rockledge or Belden?""Rockledge, if you please," said Bobby, politely."Huh!" said the tall boy, grinning. "I don't know whether it pleases us any to have you go to Rockledge. But it's lucky you're not bound for Belden.""Why?" asked Fred."We'd have to chuck your hats out of the window. We don't allow any Belden boys to ride in this train with their hats on.""And do the Belden boys throw the Rockledge boys' hats out of the window?" asked Bobby, innocently enough."If they're able. But they ain't. You sure you are going to Rockledge?""You can wait till we get off the train and then find out whether we tell the truth, or not," said Fred, rather crossly."Say, young fellow! we don't like fresh fish at Rockledge," warned the yellow-haired boy. "If you're going there, you want to walk Turkey."Bobby pinched Fred warningly, and both the chums remained silent."I never did like the looks of red hair, anyway—did you, Bill?" suggested the squinting chap, grinning."No. We'll have to dye it for him," said the yellow-haired boy. "What color do you prefer instead of red?" he asked Fred Martin."Well, I wouldn't like it to be straw-colored," responded Fred, promptly, and with a meaning glance at his interrogator's hair. "Any other will suit me better."The yellow-haired boy flushed and his pale eyes sparkled. Fred stared back at him quite boldly, for the ten year old was no coward, whatever else he might be."Fresh fish—just as I told you," muttered the other strange boy, scowling and squinting at the same time. He was a very ugly boy when he did this. "Both of them.""Well!" began Bill, and then stopped.The train had halted at another station the moment before. Somebody entered the front door of the car, and at once the group of boys going to Rockledge School set up a shout."Hi, Barry!""See who's come in with the tide! Hey, Captain!""Hullo, Barry Gray!""Captain! Captain! How-de-do!"Even the yellow-haired boy and his comrade turned to look. Bobby and Fred saw a handsome, brown haired fellow coming down the aisle. He was fourteen or older. He carried a light overcoat over his arm and he was very well dressed.He tossed his coat and bag into one of the racks, and began shaking hands. Everybody seemed glad to see him. As he quickly glanced down the aisle his look seemed to quell Bill and the squinting boy."He's going to butt in, of course," growled the first named."Sure. Feels his oats—"The fellow with the squint said no more. The handsome fellow, whose name seemed to be Barry Gray, came down the aisle almost at once."Hullo, Bill Bronson," he said, with some sharpness. "Up to your usual tricks?""It isn't any business of yours, Barry, what Jack and I do," growled the yellow-haired boy."I'll make it my business, then," said Barry Gray, laughing. Then he turned directly to Bobby and Fred."You kids going to Rockledge this term?" he asked."Yes, sir," said Bobby, quickly.Barry Gray was not as tall as Bill Bronson, and perhaps not as old, but he evidently was not afraid of either of the bullies."Where are you from?""Clinton, sir," pronounced Bobby, again taking the lead."What's your name—and your chum's?" asked Barry."My name is Bob Blake, and this is Fred Martin," said Bobby."Glad to know you," said the older boy, shaking hands with both of them, and even Fred began to forgive him for calling them "kids.""Ever been to school before?" asked Barry."Not to boarding school," Fred said."Come on up and I'll introduce you to the other fellows. Don't mind Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, here," added Barry Gray, grinning at the two retiring bullies. "If they bother you much, come to me. I'm captain of the school this year, and Dr. Raymond expects me to keep all of the fellows straight. Being a captain is like being a monitor. You understand!""Oh, yes, sir," said Bobby."And you needn't 'sir' me so much," said the kindly captain. "Come on, now—"Bobby turned to ask permission of his father. Barry at once saw that Mr. Blake was with the chums from Clinton."Who's this, Bob? Your father, or Fred's?""This is my father," said Bobby, politely.The frank school captain stepped forward and offered his hand. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Blake," he said. "You trust the boys with me. I'll see that they get in right with the other fellows, and that they're not put upon too much.""I'm sure of it," said Mr. Blake, smiling. "I shall feel better about leaving Bobby and Fred at Rockledge, knowing that you will have an eye on them.""Oh, you can be easy about them," said Captain Gray who, despite his natural conceit, seemed a very nice fellow. "Of course, they'll have to take a few hard knocks, and the boys will 'run' them some. But they sha'n't be hurt.""Huh!" muttered Fred. "I guess we can take care of ourselves."Barry looked down at him and grinned. "Yes, I see you own red hair," he observed, and Mr. Blake laughed outright.Fred followed his chum and Barry Gray up the aisle with rather a lagging step. He felt his own importance considerably, and he did not see why he should be as respectful as Bobby was to the captain of Rockledge School.In a very few minutes Master Martin felt better. The other boys were a lot more friendly than Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, who the chums learned later, were two of the most troublesome boys at the school. Not many of the others liked the bullies.There were some fellows quite as young as Bobby and Fred, but none of them were "greenies," like the chums from Clinton."Sure you'll have to be hazed!" explained a fat, genial boy, named Perry Wise—called "Pee Wee" because of his initials and his size. "Every fellow has to, that comes to the school. But Barrymore Gray won't let them go too far. He's a nice fellow, he is.""I think he is fine," said Bobby, enthusiastically."He's pretty fresh, I guess," grumbled Fred."We don't call the captain of the school fresh," said Pee Wee. "He has a right to boss us. The Doctor lets him. Next to the teachers, Barry's got more to say about things in the school than anybody else."This did not please Master Martin much. He wanted to be of some importance himself, and he had never been used to giving in to other boys, unless it was to Bobby Blake.However, there was so much to hear, and so many new people to get acquainted with that Fred had little time to worry about Barry Gray. The chums found the time passing so quickly that they were surprised when the train slowed down and the brakeman shouted, "All out for Rockledge!"There was no crowd of boys and no band. Rockledge was a busy town, with oak-shaded streets, great bowlders thrusting their heads out of the vacant lots, and much blasting going on where new cellars were being excavated.There was an electric car line through the middle of High Street, which turned off at the shore of the lake (they learned this afterward) and went as far as Belden.Bobby and Fred, with Mr. Blake, took a car on this line and crossed the railroad, finally bringing up within sight of the grounds of Rockledge School.It was not a large school, and there were only four buildings, including the gate-keeper's cottage where all of the outside servants slept. It had once been a fine private estate, and Dr. Raymond had made of it a most attractive and homelike institution.The doctor and his family, and his chief assistant, lived in a handsome house connected with the main building of the school by a long, roofed portico. This last building was of brick and sandstone, and held classrooms, dining-rooms, the kitchen department in one end of the basement, and a fine gymnasium in the other.In the upper stories were a hall, two large dormitories in each of which were beds for twenty boys, and five small dormitories for two boys each. The ten highest scholars occupied these small rooms, and from them was chosen the captain of the school each June.The junior teachers slept in this big building, too.There were beautiful lawns, fine shrubs, winding, shaded walks, and a large campus on which were a baseball diamond, a football field, and courts for tennis, basket-ball, and other games.These facts Bobby and Fred gradually absorbed. At first they were too round-eyed to appreciate much but the fact that the place seemed large, and that there positively was an immense number of boys! Fifty boys seemed to have swelled to a hundred and fifty—and they all stared at the newcomers.Mr. Blake went immediately to the doctor's study, taking Bobby and Fred with him. Dr. Raymond was a tall, big-boned man, wearing very loose garments and a collar a full size too large. The big doctor had bushy side-whiskers, and his chin and lip were very closely shaved. He had white, big teeth, and he showed them all when he smiled.His eyes were kindly, and wrinkles appeared around them when he smiled, in a most engaging fashion. When he shook hands with Bobby and Fred, some magnetic feeling passed from the big man to the boys, so that the latter decided on the instant that they liked Dr. Raymond!"Manly little fellows—both," said the doctor, to Mr. Blake, as the two gentlemen walked toward the big windows at the end of the room, leaving Bobby and Fred marooned, like two castaway sailors, on a desert isle of rug near the door.The doctor's study was enormously long, with a high ceiling, and lined with books, save where a fireplace broke into the bookshelves on one side. There was a very large flat-topped desk, too, several deep chairs, and a number of smaller tables at which the older boys sometimes did their lessons."You'll find them just as full of fun and mischief as a couple of chestnuts are of meat," said Mr. Blake, with a chuckle. "But I don't think there is a mean trait in either of them. My boy has had, we think, rather a good influence over Freddie Martin. The latter's red hair is apt to get him into trouble.""I understand," said the doctor, nodding and smiling. "I try to leave the boys much to themselves in the matter of deportment. The bigger boys are supposed to set the standard of morals, and I am glad to say that I have never yet had occasion to be sorry for beginning that way."We run Rockledge School on honor, sir. Every year—in June—we present to the boy who earns it, a gold medal stating that for the past year he has shown himself to be worthy of distinction above his fellows in a strictly honorable way."This medal is not given for scholarship—yet none but a fairly studious boy may earn it. It is not given for deportment strictly—though no boy who is not gentlemanly and of manly bearing and action, can win it. The medal is not given for mere popularity, for a boy may sometimes be popular with his fellows, without having many of the fundamental virtues of character which we hope to see in our boys."The boy who won it last year, and is gone from us now, stood ninth in his class only, and was not much of an athlete—which latter tells mightily among the boys themselves, you know. Yet my teachers and myself, as well as the school, were practically unanimous in the selection of Tommy Wardwell as the recipient of the Medal of Honor."The gentlemen talked some few minutes longer. Then Mr. Blake came to bid Bobby and Fred good-by. He shook hands gravely with his own son and then took Fred's hand."You've got some trouble, some fun, and a lot of work before you, Master Fred," he said. "I expect your father and mother will be anxiously waiting for good reports about you."Then he looked at Bobby again. That youngster was having great difficulty in "holding in." His father was going away—and going to a far country. Thousands of miles would separate them before they would meet again."You got anything to say to me, Bobs?" asked 'Mr. Blake, briskly."Ye—yes, sir!" gasped Bobby. "I—I got to kiss you before you go, Pa!" and he flung his arms around Mr. Blake's neck and for a minute was a baby again.He knew that Fred would think such a show of emotion beneath him, and he saw the doctor looking at him curiously. Just the same, Bobby Blake was glad—oh, how glad!—many and many a time thereafter that he had bade his father good-by in just this way.
CHAPTER VIII
THE PEEP-SHOW
Very early on Saturday morning Bobby and Fred went down to Hurley Street and hung the painted banners upon the front of the show tent. As to their beauty, there might have been some question, but Fred had painted the words clearly, and there could be no mistaking their meaning.
The sheets on which the signs were painted stretched across the width of the tent, and the upper line read:
FOUR MARVELS OF THE WORLD
Underneath this startling statement, in no less emphatic letters, appeared the following:
ON EXHIBITION:The Strongest Man in the WorldThe Handsomest Woman in the WorldThe Prettiest Girl in the WorldThe Smartest Boy in the World
The surprising nature of these signs began to draw a crowd almost at once—even before breakfast. The early comers were mostly boys, and Bobby and Fred were not yet ready to admit the curious.
The chums kept perfectly serious faces and refused to answer any of the questions, or respond much to the raillery of their young friends.
"You know that ain't so, Bobby Blake!" exclaimed one boy. "You can't have all those people in that tent. And where'd you get them? Huh! 'Strongest man in the world.' Who's that? Sandow, or John L. Sullivan? Bet you jest got a picture of Samson throwin' down the pillars."
"That's what it is—just pictures!" agreed the other curious ones.
Fred grinned at them and was—wonderful to relate!—as silent as his chum. They had agreed to say nothing in response to the chaffing.
"And who was the handsomest woman in the world?" scoffed another boy, who was rather better informed than most of his mates. "Cleopatra, maybe! And she was blacker than our Phoebe who washes for my mother. All Egyptians are black."
"I'd just like to know who you think is the prettiest girl, Bobby Blake?" demanded one of the bigger girls who went to school with the chums, her nose tip tilted to show her scorn. "What do you know about pretty girls?"
"If you want to see her, you can do so by paying your penny by and by," said Bobby politely.
"Humph! I'd like to see myself!" snapped the young lady—and at once went home and secured a penny for that very purpose!
"I s'pose you've got a photograph of your own self in there for the smartest boy, Reddy Martin!" suggested one of the big fellows who dared give Fred this hated nickname.
"Well," drawled Fred, his eyes sparkling, "if it lay between you and me who was the smartest, I don't believeyou'dget any medal."
The boys took turns breakfasting on crackers and cheese in Mr. Martin's store. Fred's father was greatly amused by the signs in front of the tent and he wanted a private view of the wonders. But he was politely refused.
"We can't begin the show till Bobby's made the lecture, Dad," declared Fred. "And we're not going to begin till there's a crowd on the street. We'll pass them right into the store here, and I bet you and the clerks will be too busy waiting on customers to see the show at all," and he chuckled.
In only a single matter did the boys have help in the arrangements for the show. Mr. Blake, without being in the secret of the show itself, had written the lecture which Bobby was to deliver outside the tent every time a crowd gathered.
Bobby put on a shabby drum-major's coat, with one epaulet, which had been found in the Martins' attic. On his head he perched an old silk hat belonging to his father, with the band stuffed out so that it would not slip down over his ears and hide his face entirely.
He beat upon a tin pan with a padded drum-stick, and thus brought together the first crowd before the show-tent at about nine o'clock. His ridiculous figure and the noise of the drumming soon collected twenty or thirty grown people—mostly men at that hour—beside a crowd of boys, and a few timid girls who fringed the crowd.
Having called his audience together, Bobby, with a perfectly serious face, began his speech which he had learned by heart, and spoke as well as ever he recited "a piece" on Friday afternoons at school:
"Kind Friends:
"This wonderful exhibition has been arranged for the sole purpose of extracting money from your pockets and putting it into ours. We make this frank announcement at the start so that there may be no misunderstanding.
"This marvelous Museum is not a charitable institution nor is it for the benefit of any philanthropic cause.
"It is merely an effort and an invention to promote good humor; any person unable to appreciate a joke on himself, or herself, is respectfully requested not to patronize our stupendous and surprising entertainment.
"Where before, in any conglomeration of Wonders of the World, have four such marvelous creatures been placed simultaneously on exhibition?
"Now, kind friends, but one person is admitted to our entertainment at a time, and but one of these advertised marvels will be exhibited to each visitor. This is a positive rule that cannot be broken.
"The charge for our educational and startling exhibit is but a penny—a cent—the smallest coin of the realm. It will not make you, and it cannot break you.
"In addition, it is understood that the person paying his, or her, entrance fee to this Museum of Marvels, agrees to keep silent regarding what is shown within, for at least twenty-four hours. On that, and on no other terms, do we accept your penny.
"If one should not be satisfied that a penny's worth is given in exchange for the entrance fee, the same will be cheerfully refunded.
"Now, kind friends, one at a time," concluded Bobby, stepping down from the rostrum to the narrow entrance to the tent. "Form in line at the right, please. Have your pennies ready; we cannot make change. Doctor Truman is the first to enter the Hall of Marvels. Thank you, Doctor!" as the cheerful, chuckling physician, bag in hand, on his morning rounds to see his patients, pushed forward to the entrance of the tent.
There was a good deal of hanging back at first. Bobby had expected that. And Fred might have lost hope had he been outside where he could see the crowd that began to dwindle away when Bobby's funny speech was finished.
But in a moment the doctor's roar of laughter from within the tent brought some of the suspicious ones back. The doctor appeared at the store door, his plump sides shaking with laughter, and wiping the joyous tears from his eyes.
"What is it, Doc?" asked an old farmer. "What's them 'tarnal boys doin' in that tent?"
"Pay your penny and go in and see," exclaimed Doctor Truman, hurrying away. "If a laugh like that isn't worth a cent, I don't know what is!"
Fred's whistle had announced the departure of the first visitor by way of the shop door, and Bobby urged up another:
"Don't crowd, kind friends. The performance will continue all day and this evening—or until everybody desiring to do so has seen one of these four Wonders of the World."
Jim Hatton, the harness maker, followed the doctor. He didn't laugh, but the curious ones heard him exclaim, a moment after his disappearance:
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" which was Mr. Hatton's favorite expression, and he came out of the front door of Mr. Martin's shop, grinning broadly.
"What was it, Jim?" asked the same curious farmer.
"Can't tell ye, Jake. See it yourself—'nless you're afraid o' riskin' a penny to find out just how smart our boys here in Clinton be," and Mr. Hatton went off to his shop still grinning.
Somebody pushed forward the very girl who had sharpened her wit on Bobby before the exhibition opened. She had her penny clutched tightly in her hand.
"Don't you let go of that cent, Susie," advised Bobby, grinning at her, "if you think you'll want it again for anything. For you won't be pleased by what you see—maybe."
Susie tossed her head and went inside. In just a minute Fred blew his whistle and Susie, with flaming cheeks, appeared at the front door of the store.
"What was it, Susie?" demanded one of her friends.
"Which did you see—the strong man, or the handsome lady, or the pretty girl, or the smart boy?" cried another.
But Susie shut her lips tightly, glanced once at Bobby, who was letting the curious old farmer pass into the tent, and then she ran home. The curiosity of the boys and girls mounted higher and higher.
The old farmer popped out almost as quick as he popped in. He was chewing a straw vigorously, and his face was flushed. It was hard to tell for a moment whether he was mad, or not.
"Wal, Neighbor Jake, did yet git your money's wuth?" demanded another rural character.
The bewhiskered old fellow turned on the speaker, and gradually a grin spread over his face.
"Say, Sam!" he drawled. "You never had none too much schoolin'. Your edication was frightfully neglected. You pay that there boy a cent and go in there, and you'll l'arn more in a minute than you ever did before in a day! You take it from me."
Thus advised his neighbor pressed forward and was the next "victim." When he came out his face was red likewise, while Jake burst into a mighty roar of laughter and rocked himself to and fro on the horseblock in front of the store door.
Soon the second farmer joined in the laughter, and thereafter, for an hour, the two stood about and urged everybody from out of town whom they knew to enter the peep-show.
Occasionally Bobby mounted the platform, banged on the pan, and lifted up his voice in the speech Mr. Blake had written for him. It coaxed the people to stop before the show every time. And between whiles, Bobby kept repeating:
"It is only a cent—and your money back if you are not satisfied! If it is a joke, keep it to yourself and let the next one find it out. Come on! Have your pennies ready, please, kind friends. See one of the four greatest wonders of the world."
At first none of the ladies who were out shopping did more than stop and listen and wonder among themselves "what that Blake boy was up to now." But the girl who worked in Mr. Ballard's real estate office ran across the street to see what the crowd was about, and was tempted to enter the tent.
She came out giggling, and greatly delighted, and pretty soon the girls who worked in the offices and stores along Hurley Street, were attracted to the show. They all seemed to be highly delighted, when they came out through the store.
"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Hiram Pepper, to a neighbor, as they passed the peep-show again. "I've a mind to see what that means."
"It's some foolishness," said her friend, who was a rather vinegary maiden lady named Miss Prissy Craven. "I wonder what that boy's mother can be thinking of!"
"Why, Mrs. John Blake is as nice a lady as there is in town," declared Mrs. Pepper. "And I must say for Bobby that he's never in any mischief. He's full of fun—like any boy. But there ain't asmitchof meanness in him."
"Humph!" exclaimed the other lady, sourly.
"Now, you wait. I'm going in," declared Mrs. Pepper, fumbling in her purse for a penny.
She marched up to Bobby, eyeing him rather sternly. To tell the truth, for the first time the young showman quailed.
"Maybe you'd—you'd better not go in, Mrs. Pepper," he mumbled.
"Why not? Ain't it fit for a lady to see?" demanded she, with increasing sternness.
"Oh, yes!" and Bobbyhadto giggle at that. "But—but—Well, anyway, you mustn't tell, and you can have your money back if you don't like the show."
"Ha!" exclaimed Mrs. Pepper, "as though I was worried about the loss of a penny," and she went into the tent with her back very straight.
She came out shaking with laughter. The tears rolled down her face and she had to sit down on Mr. Martin's steps to get her breath. Miss Prissy Craven demanded, sharply: "What under the sun is the matter with you, Mis' Pepper? I never seen you behave so. What is it in that tent them boys have got? I sh'd think it was a giggle ball full o' tickle!"
"Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the amused Mrs. Pepper. "You go in yourself, Prissy, and see what you think of it. I can't tell you."
"I'm going!" announced the maiden lady, nodding her head. "But lemme tell you," she added to Bobby, "if it's anything I don't like, you'll hear about it when I come out."
Bobby looked across at Mrs. Pepper doubtfully, but he had to grin. The lady who was laughing nodded to him vigorously, and he let Miss Craven through.
In less than a minute she flounced through the store and demanded, in her high, rasping voice:
"What did you mean by trickin' me that-a-way, Mis' Pepper? I never was so disgusted in all my life. A perfec' swindle—"
"You can get back your penny if you didn't like it," suggested Bobby, trying hard not to laugh.
"Well, I—"
But Mrs. Pepper broke in upon the angry spinster's possible tirade: "Jest what did you see, Prissy?" she asked the angry one, with emphasis. Miss Craven's mouth remained open for fully half a minute, but no sound came forth. The blood mounted into her face, and then she shut her lips and started off hastily for her own home.Evidently she did not want to tell!
This incident excited the curiosity of the bystanders more than ever. So far every person seeing the show had "played fair" and had refused to say what he or she had seen on the inside of the tent.
Bobby had refused to let the smaller boys or girls into the show, telling them that late in the day they might see it for nothing. That had been agreed upon with Fred, for the proprietors of the entertainment were afraid that the little folk would be tempted to talk the matter over among themselves and thus spoil the fun—as well as reduce the receipts.
And the pennies came in faster than Bobby or Fred had dared hope. During the morning those people who had business on Hurley Street came to see the show, and to listen to Bobby as "bally-hoo," and by noon-time wind of the peep-show had gone all over town.
Bobby's mother, and Fred's, too, heard of it from their husbands at luncheon, and they decided to see what their young hopefuls were about. Bobby was just a little bit scared when he saw his mother; he didn't know whether she would see the joke as his father had, earlier in the day—for Mr. Blake had come out of the tent roaring with laughter.
"It beats anything how those two youngsters have got the whole town guessing," he had said to Mr. Martin. "And they have hit on a positive human failing that shows more sober thought than I believed either of them capable of."
"Dare you let your mother in to see this show, Bobby Blake?" asked Mrs. Blake, seriously, when the boy's lecture—which he now rattled off glibly enough—was finished.
"There's no 'free list'," said Bobby, his eyes twinkling. "Pa told me to be sure not to let you in unless you paid. And I am sure, Mother, that you will see the handsomest woman in the world, if you want to, when you go inside."
"I declare! you havemepuzzled, Bobby Blake," said easy going Mrs. Martin.
"Just a minute, please!" urged Bobby, detaining his chum's mother. "You'll have to take your turn. But one person is allowed to enter at a time. This way! this way, kind friends! The line forms on the right. Only a penny—a cent—the smallest coin of the realm. It won't make you and it can't break you!"
The two mothers joined each other afterward outside of Mr. Martin's store. They looked into each other's faces wonderingly.
"What do you think of those boys?" demanded Mrs. Martin. "What will they do next?"
"I—I don't know," admitted Mrs. Blake, with a sigh. "But Idofear that they will turn that school they are going to this fall topsy-turvy!"
CHAPTER IX
OFF FOR ROCKLEDGE
Trade at the peep-show was brisk until mid-afternoon. Bobby and Fred had been able to get only a bite of luncheon from the store "in their fists," and had compared notes but seldom.
Bobby's trouser-pockets were borne down with the weight of pennies. In refusing to make change it soon became very hard along Hurley Street to obtain pennies at all. All the copper money in the town was fast coming the way of the proprietors of the peep-show.
Neither Bobby nor Fred realized this fact—nor what it meant to them—until after the First National and the Old Farmers' Banks had closed their doors for the day. The storekeepers then began running around to borrow copper money, and it was some time before anybody knew what made the scarcity of pennies in the storekeepers' tills!
Meanwhile the financial adventure of Bobby Blake and Fred Martin was prospering.
Bobby suddenly saw the long-armed, white-headed Applethwaite Plunkit standing in the crowd eying him while he delivered his talk. The crowd before the rostrum laughed as usual, and those who had been in to see the show urged their friends to venture likewise.
The white-headed farm boy from Plunkit's Creek was pushing forward to enter the show. Bobby had hoped he would not venture, but when Ap approached, Bobby made up his mind quickly.
"You can't go in, Applethwaite," he said, decidedly. "We don't want you."
"Why not!"
"Never mind why not," said Bobby, firmly, looking straight into the flushed face of the boy who had treated him and Fred so meanly just a week before. "But you can't go in."
"Ain't my cent just as good as anybody else's?"
"Not here it isn't," declared Bobby, who knew very well that if the white head appeared in the tent where the red head was, there would be an explosion! Besides, he did not trust Ap. He believed Ap would do all he could to break up the show after he had seen it.
Ap began to bluster and threaten, but there were too many grown folk around for him to dare attack Bobby. "You jes' wait," he whispered. "I'll fix you some time."
Bobby did not know what Applethwaite might try to do, and when he saw him a little later with a group of boys who were pretty rough looking, he was worried. These boys stood across the street from the show and Bobby was afraid they were waiting for some slack time, when there were no grown folk about, to "rush" the tent.
He called Fred out and told him what he feared and Fred went through and told the biggest clerk in his father's store. The clerks were interested in the two young showmen, for they had been into the tent and were delighted with what they had seen.
The big fellow promised, therefore, to come running and bring the other clerks to help, if the boys whistled for assistance. This plan quieted Bobby's fears, and he gave his mind to the lecture, and to coaxing the audience into the show, one by one.
Suddenly the young lecturer saw Mr. Priestly in the crowd. He flushed up pretty red when he saw him, for Mr. Priestly was the minister at the church the boys attended, and Bobby thought he was about the finest man in town.
The clergyman was a young man who had made a name for himself in University athletics, and he had the biggest Boys' Club in town. Bobby and Fred were particular friends of the young minister, and for a moment Bobby wondered if Mr. Priestly would approve of the peep-show.
The gentleman's ruddy, smoothly shaven face was a-smile as he listened to Bobby's speech, and his blue eyes twinkled. He was the first to reach the tent entrance when Bobby stepped down from the platform.
"Which wonder amIto see, Bobby?" he asked, as he presented his penny to the youthful showman.
"We—we favor the clergy, Mr. Priestly," said Bobby, hesitatingly, yet with an answering smile. "Youshall see two wonders." Then he called in to his partner: "Hey, Fred!"
"Hullo!" returned the red-haired one, coming to the entrance.
"Here's Mr. Priestly," said Bobby, in a low voice. "I want you to showhimthe strongest man in the world, and the very best man in Clinton!"
"Oh-ho!" cried Mr. Priestly. "That'sthe way of it, eh?" and he pinched Bobby's cheek as he went into the tent. "I believe I can guess your joke, boys."
"Never mind! nobody else has guessed it," chuckled Fred, going before him. "Stand right there, Mr. Priestly."
The oil lamp was in a bracket screwed to a post in the back of the tent. Just where its light shone best was a narrow red curtain. Fred became preternaturally solemn as he stepped forward and laid his hand upon the cords that manipulated the curtain.
"We will show you, Mr. Priestly," he said, "the Strongest Man in the World—and as Bobby says, the verybestman in Clinton!"
He pulled aside the curtain and Mr. Priestly saw his own reflection in a long mirror that had been borrowed from the Martin attic.
"Well, well!" exclaimed the minister, nodding. "And is this all your show?"
"Anybody who is not satisfied with what hesees," returned Fred, chuckling, "can have the entrance fee refunded."
At that the clergyman burst into a great laugh. "You boys! you boys! You certainly have themthere. One must be dissatisfied with himself to ask for the return of his penny. I—I am not altogether sure that this doesn't smack of a swindle; but it certainlyissmart. You should show your own face in the glass, Fred, when the younger victims come in to see the Smartest Boy in the World."
"No, sir," grinned Fred. "Every fellow that comes in is better satisfied to see his own reflection, I reckon."
The clergyman went out, laughing. That the joke had kept up all day was the wonder of it. The audience became smaller as supper time drew near.
Then came Mr. Harrod, who kept the variety and ice cream store down the street. "Say," he said to Bobby. "You boys must have cornered all the pennies in town. I've got to have some. I'll give you a dollar bill for ninety cents, Bobby Blake."
"All right, sir," cried Bobby. "Is a dollar's worth all you want? I'll send them down to your store in a few moments."
"Send two dollars' worth," returned Mr. Harrod, hurrying away.
"Hi, Betty Martin!" shouted Bobby to Fred's "next oldest sister," who was on the fringe of the crowd. "Come here and count pennies—do, please!"
"Hi Betty Martin" stuck out her tongue promptly and did not stir. "Call me by my proper name, Mister Smartie!" she said, sharply.
"Oh, me, oh, my! I beg your pardon," laughed Bobby. "Miss Elizabeth Martin, will you please count some of these pennies and roll them into papers—right there on the box, please?"
"All right," said Betty, who did not like to be called after any Mother Goose character.
She was a bright girl and she counted the pennies correctly into piles of thirty, rolled them up that way, carried six of the rolls down to the variety store, and brought back a two dollar bill.
Then Mr. Martin needed copper money, and Betty counted a dollars' worth out for him—at the rate of exchange established by Mr. Harrod.
"Wow, Bobby!" murmured Fred, at the door of the tent. "We get them coming and going, don't we? Ten cents on the dollar, too! We're getting rich."
But the peep-show had had its run. Not many could be coaxed in after supper, and the boys were tired, too. They had not eaten a proper meal all day, and Mr. Martin advised them to shut up shop.
They took down the signs, put out the lamp, and went into the back room of the grocery to count the receipts. The amount was far beyond their expectations, and naturally Bobby and Fred were delighted.
"It takes you to think up the bright ideas, chum," said Fred, admiringly.
But Bobby looked thoughtful. "I wonder if Mr. Priestly thought it was just right?" he murmured. "I suppose wedidfool them all," and he sighed.
"Shucks!" exclaimed Fred. "They didn't have to be fooled if they didn't want to. And even Prissy Craven didn't come back for her penny, did she?"
Only a few days more before they would start for Rockledge School. The chums bought the bats and mask and other things they craved. They packed their trunks two or three times over. They carried the books they liked best, and many treasures for which their troubled mothers could see no reason whatsoever.
"Now, this can of pins and nails, Bobby," urged Mrs. Blake, helplessly. "Whatpossiblegood can they be? I do not see how I am to get your clothing into the trunk."
"Aw—Mother!" gasped Bobby. "Don't throw them away. A fellow never can tell when he'll want a pin—or a nail—or a button—or something. Never mind putting in so many stockings. Leave the can—do, Mother!"
All the Clinton boys who had been the chums' particular associates at school were greatly interested in what they termed Bobby's and Fred's "luck." They all had to be told, over and over again, of the expected wonders of Rockledge School.
"And I bet you and Fred turn things upside down there," said "Scat" Monroe, with an envious sigh.
"I bet we don't!" responded Bobby, quickly. "Dr. Raymond is awfully strict, they say. We'll have to walk a chalk line."
"Well, if Fred Martin ever walks a chalk-line," scoffed another of the fellows, "it'll be a mighty crooked one!"
However, the night before the boys were to start for Rockledge, the good natured groceryman gave his son a long talk, and Fred went to bed feeling pretty solemn. For the first time, he began to realize that he was not going away to boarding school merely for the fun there was to be got out of it!
"You haven't made much of a mark for yourself in the Clinton Public School, Frederick," said Mr. Martin, sternly; "but I do not believe that is because you are either a dunce, or stubborn. You have been frittering away your opportunities.
"I am tired of seeing your name at the foot of your class roster—or near it. Inattention is your failing. You are going where they make boys attend. And if you do not work, and keep up with your mates, you will be sent home. Do you understand that?
"And if you are sent home, you shall be sent to another school where you'll have very little fun at all for the rest of your life. I mean the School of Hard Experience!
"You shall be set to work in my store half of each day, like a poor man's son, and go to the public school the other half day, and your name will be on the truant officer's list."
"And I guess he meant it," said Fred to Bobby the next morning. "Father doesn't often scold, but he was mad at me for being so low in my classes last term."
The boys started for the railroad station with Mr. Blake, gayly enough, however. When Bobby had parted from his mother, he had to swallow a big lump in his throat, and he hugged her around the neckhardfor a minute. But he had forced back the tears by the time they got to the Martins' house.
There the other children were all out on the front porch to bid their brother and Bobby good-by. "Hi Betty Martin" threw an old shoe after them.
"For luck," she said. "That's what they do when folks get married."
"But Bobby and I aren't getting married," complained Fred, rubbing his right ear where the shoe had landed. "And, anyway, no girl's got a right to shut her eyes tight and throw an old boot likethat. How'd you know you wouldn't do some damage?"
"That's the luck of it," chuckled Bobby. "It's lucky she didn't hurt you worse."
CHAPTER X
NEW SURROUNDINGS
The boys were so eagerly looking ahead that they scarcely gave a backward glance at Clinton, as the train rolled away. Mr. Blake had his paper and a whole seat to himself. Bobby and Fred occupied a seat ahead of him, and laughed and chattered as they pleased.
"This is only Friday," said Fred, "and classes don't begin at Rockledge until Monday. We'll have two whole days to get acquainted in. Do you s'pose there will be some of the boys at the Rockledge station to meet us?"
"And a brass band, too, maybe—eh?" chuckled Bobby. "I guess nobody but the principal of the school knows we're coming, Fred. We'll be new boys, and the bigger fellows will boss us around at first."
"Huh! they can't bossmeif I don't want to be bossed," declared the pugnacious Fred.
"Don't you begin to talk that way," advised his chum. "We'll have to be pretty small potatoes at first."
"I don't see why," grumbled Fred.
"You'll find out. My father went to a boarding school when he was a boy, and he told me," Bobby explained.
They did not have to wait until reaching Rockledge to learn something about the temper of the boys with whom they would be associated. At Cambwell several students got aboard and came into their car. They were all older than Bobby and Fred, and they were very noisy and self-assertive.
They sang, and joked together in the seats up front. Finally they spied the two boys from Clinton sitting in the middle of the car.
"Hullo!" exclaimed a tall, thin, yellow-haired boy who seemed to be a leader in the fun. "There's a couple of kids who look as though they'd just left home and mamma. Bet they're going with us."
One of the other boys said something in a low tone, and then he and the yellow-haired one got up and came down the aisle.
"Say!" said the second boy, who was short and stocky and squinted his eyes up in a funny way when he talked. "Goin' to school, sonnies?"
"Yes, we are," said Fred, sharply.
"Rockledge or Belden?"
"Rockledge, if you please," said Bobby, politely.
"Huh!" said the tall boy, grinning. "I don't know whether it pleases us any to have you go to Rockledge. But it's lucky you're not bound for Belden."
"Why?" asked Fred.
"We'd have to chuck your hats out of the window. We don't allow any Belden boys to ride in this train with their hats on."
"And do the Belden boys throw the Rockledge boys' hats out of the window?" asked Bobby, innocently enough.
"If they're able. But they ain't. You sure you are going to Rockledge?"
"You can wait till we get off the train and then find out whether we tell the truth, or not," said Fred, rather crossly.
"Say, young fellow! we don't like fresh fish at Rockledge," warned the yellow-haired boy. "If you're going there, you want to walk Turkey."
Bobby pinched Fred warningly, and both the chums remained silent.
"I never did like the looks of red hair, anyway—did you, Bill?" suggested the squinting chap, grinning.
"No. We'll have to dye it for him," said the yellow-haired boy. "What color do you prefer instead of red?" he asked Fred Martin.
"Well, I wouldn't like it to be straw-colored," responded Fred, promptly, and with a meaning glance at his interrogator's hair. "Any other will suit me better."
The yellow-haired boy flushed and his pale eyes sparkled. Fred stared back at him quite boldly, for the ten year old was no coward, whatever else he might be.
"Fresh fish—just as I told you," muttered the other strange boy, scowling and squinting at the same time. He was a very ugly boy when he did this. "Both of them."
"Well!" began Bill, and then stopped.
The train had halted at another station the moment before. Somebody entered the front door of the car, and at once the group of boys going to Rockledge School set up a shout.
"Hi, Barry!"
"See who's come in with the tide! Hey, Captain!"
"Hullo, Barry Gray!"
"Captain! Captain! How-de-do!"
Even the yellow-haired boy and his comrade turned to look. Bobby and Fred saw a handsome, brown haired fellow coming down the aisle. He was fourteen or older. He carried a light overcoat over his arm and he was very well dressed.
He tossed his coat and bag into one of the racks, and began shaking hands. Everybody seemed glad to see him. As he quickly glanced down the aisle his look seemed to quell Bill and the squinting boy.
"He's going to butt in, of course," growled the first named.
"Sure. Feels his oats—"
The fellow with the squint said no more. The handsome fellow, whose name seemed to be Barry Gray, came down the aisle almost at once.
"Hullo, Bill Bronson," he said, with some sharpness. "Up to your usual tricks?"
"It isn't any business of yours, Barry, what Jack and I do," growled the yellow-haired boy.
"I'll make it my business, then," said Barry Gray, laughing. Then he turned directly to Bobby and Fred.
"You kids going to Rockledge this term?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Bobby, quickly.
Barry Gray was not as tall as Bill Bronson, and perhaps not as old, but he evidently was not afraid of either of the bullies.
"Where are you from?"
"Clinton, sir," pronounced Bobby, again taking the lead.
"What's your name—and your chum's?" asked Barry.
"My name is Bob Blake, and this is Fred Martin," said Bobby.
"Glad to know you," said the older boy, shaking hands with both of them, and even Fred began to forgive him for calling them "kids."
"Ever been to school before?" asked Barry.
"Not to boarding school," Fred said.
"Come on up and I'll introduce you to the other fellows. Don't mind Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, here," added Barry Gray, grinning at the two retiring bullies. "If they bother you much, come to me. I'm captain of the school this year, and Dr. Raymond expects me to keep all of the fellows straight. Being a captain is like being a monitor. You understand!"
"Oh, yes, sir," said Bobby.
"And you needn't 'sir' me so much," said the kindly captain. "Come on, now—"
Bobby turned to ask permission of his father. Barry at once saw that Mr. Blake was with the chums from Clinton.
"Who's this, Bob? Your father, or Fred's?"
"This is my father," said Bobby, politely.
The frank school captain stepped forward and offered his hand. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Blake," he said. "You trust the boys with me. I'll see that they get in right with the other fellows, and that they're not put upon too much."
"I'm sure of it," said Mr. Blake, smiling. "I shall feel better about leaving Bobby and Fred at Rockledge, knowing that you will have an eye on them."
"Oh, you can be easy about them," said Captain Gray who, despite his natural conceit, seemed a very nice fellow. "Of course, they'll have to take a few hard knocks, and the boys will 'run' them some. But they sha'n't be hurt."
"Huh!" muttered Fred. "I guess we can take care of ourselves."
Barry looked down at him and grinned. "Yes, I see you own red hair," he observed, and Mr. Blake laughed outright.
Fred followed his chum and Barry Gray up the aisle with rather a lagging step. He felt his own importance considerably, and he did not see why he should be as respectful as Bobby was to the captain of Rockledge School.
In a very few minutes Master Martin felt better. The other boys were a lot more friendly than Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, who the chums learned later, were two of the most troublesome boys at the school. Not many of the others liked the bullies.
There were some fellows quite as young as Bobby and Fred, but none of them were "greenies," like the chums from Clinton.
"Sure you'll have to be hazed!" explained a fat, genial boy, named Perry Wise—called "Pee Wee" because of his initials and his size. "Every fellow has to, that comes to the school. But Barrymore Gray won't let them go too far. He's a nice fellow, he is."
"I think he is fine," said Bobby, enthusiastically.
"He's pretty fresh, I guess," grumbled Fred.
"We don't call the captain of the school fresh," said Pee Wee. "He has a right to boss us. The Doctor lets him. Next to the teachers, Barry's got more to say about things in the school than anybody else."
This did not please Master Martin much. He wanted to be of some importance himself, and he had never been used to giving in to other boys, unless it was to Bobby Blake.
However, there was so much to hear, and so many new people to get acquainted with that Fred had little time to worry about Barry Gray. The chums found the time passing so quickly that they were surprised when the train slowed down and the brakeman shouted, "All out for Rockledge!"
There was no crowd of boys and no band. Rockledge was a busy town, with oak-shaded streets, great bowlders thrusting their heads out of the vacant lots, and much blasting going on where new cellars were being excavated.
There was an electric car line through the middle of High Street, which turned off at the shore of the lake (they learned this afterward) and went as far as Belden.
Bobby and Fred, with Mr. Blake, took a car on this line and crossed the railroad, finally bringing up within sight of the grounds of Rockledge School.
It was not a large school, and there were only four buildings, including the gate-keeper's cottage where all of the outside servants slept. It had once been a fine private estate, and Dr. Raymond had made of it a most attractive and homelike institution.
The doctor and his family, and his chief assistant, lived in a handsome house connected with the main building of the school by a long, roofed portico. This last building was of brick and sandstone, and held classrooms, dining-rooms, the kitchen department in one end of the basement, and a fine gymnasium in the other.
In the upper stories were a hall, two large dormitories in each of which were beds for twenty boys, and five small dormitories for two boys each. The ten highest scholars occupied these small rooms, and from them was chosen the captain of the school each June.
The junior teachers slept in this big building, too.
There were beautiful lawns, fine shrubs, winding, shaded walks, and a large campus on which were a baseball diamond, a football field, and courts for tennis, basket-ball, and other games.
These facts Bobby and Fred gradually absorbed. At first they were too round-eyed to appreciate much but the fact that the place seemed large, and that there positively was an immense number of boys! Fifty boys seemed to have swelled to a hundred and fifty—and they all stared at the newcomers.
Mr. Blake went immediately to the doctor's study, taking Bobby and Fred with him. Dr. Raymond was a tall, big-boned man, wearing very loose garments and a collar a full size too large. The big doctor had bushy side-whiskers, and his chin and lip were very closely shaved. He had white, big teeth, and he showed them all when he smiled.
His eyes were kindly, and wrinkles appeared around them when he smiled, in a most engaging fashion. When he shook hands with Bobby and Fred, some magnetic feeling passed from the big man to the boys, so that the latter decided on the instant that they liked Dr. Raymond!
"Manly little fellows—both," said the doctor, to Mr. Blake, as the two gentlemen walked toward the big windows at the end of the room, leaving Bobby and Fred marooned, like two castaway sailors, on a desert isle of rug near the door.
The doctor's study was enormously long, with a high ceiling, and lined with books, save where a fireplace broke into the bookshelves on one side. There was a very large flat-topped desk, too, several deep chairs, and a number of smaller tables at which the older boys sometimes did their lessons.
"You'll find them just as full of fun and mischief as a couple of chestnuts are of meat," said Mr. Blake, with a chuckle. "But I don't think there is a mean trait in either of them. My boy has had, we think, rather a good influence over Freddie Martin. The latter's red hair is apt to get him into trouble."
"I understand," said the doctor, nodding and smiling. "I try to leave the boys much to themselves in the matter of deportment. The bigger boys are supposed to set the standard of morals, and I am glad to say that I have never yet had occasion to be sorry for beginning that way.
"We run Rockledge School on honor, sir. Every year—in June—we present to the boy who earns it, a gold medal stating that for the past year he has shown himself to be worthy of distinction above his fellows in a strictly honorable way.
"This medal is not given for scholarship—yet none but a fairly studious boy may earn it. It is not given for deportment strictly—though no boy who is not gentlemanly and of manly bearing and action, can win it. The medal is not given for mere popularity, for a boy may sometimes be popular with his fellows, without having many of the fundamental virtues of character which we hope to see in our boys.
"The boy who won it last year, and is gone from us now, stood ninth in his class only, and was not much of an athlete—which latter tells mightily among the boys themselves, you know. Yet my teachers and myself, as well as the school, were practically unanimous in the selection of Tommy Wardwell as the recipient of the Medal of Honor."
The gentlemen talked some few minutes longer. Then Mr. Blake came to bid Bobby and Fred good-by. He shook hands gravely with his own son and then took Fred's hand.
"You've got some trouble, some fun, and a lot of work before you, Master Fred," he said. "I expect your father and mother will be anxiously waiting for good reports about you."
Then he looked at Bobby again. That youngster was having great difficulty in "holding in." His father was going away—and going to a far country. Thousands of miles would separate them before they would meet again.
"You got anything to say to me, Bobs?" asked 'Mr. Blake, briskly.
"Ye—yes, sir!" gasped Bobby. "I—I got to kiss you before you go, Pa!" and he flung his arms around Mr. Blake's neck and for a minute was a baby again.
He knew that Fred would think such a show of emotion beneath him, and he saw the doctor looking at him curiously. Just the same, Bobby Blake was glad—oh, how glad!—many and many a time thereafter that he had bade his father good-by in just this way.