CHAPTER XIIA NEW ENEMY
Tom Hicksley had caught sight of the three boys at the same moment, and from the spiteful look that came into his small eyes it was clear that he recognized Bobby and Fred.
The boys looked at him coldly but did not speak, and Hicksley, on his part, seemed at first as though he were going to pass them without saying anything. But the events of the evening before still rankled in him, and he suddenly stopped.
“So you’re the butt-ins that mixed up in my affairs last night, are you?” he asked, in a tone that he tried to make sarcastic.
Fred flared up at once.
“Yes, we did,” he shot out; “and we’d do it again if we saw you up to your mean tricks. You can’t do anything of that kind while we’re around and expect to get away with it.”
“Hello! what’s the fuss about?” asked Skeets, with sudden interest.
“You shut up!” commanded Hicksley. “This isn’t any of your funeral. I’m talking to these two boobs here.”
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” cried Skeets, who had a hair trigger temper very much like Fred’s own.
“I’ll tell you anything I like,” retorted Hicksley, who seemed to be a master in the “gentle art of making enemies.”
“I’ll tell you what it was, Skeets,” said Bobby. “I don’t wonder that he’s so ashamed of it that he doesn’t want it talked about. We saw him teasing an old soldier—a real old man, mind you—who was trying to get a little sleep. Then when the old man went up the aisle to get some water, this fellow stuck out his foot and tried to trip him up. The man had all he could do to keep from falling. That was too much for us fellows and we made him stop.”
“He ought to have had his head knocked off,” growled Skeets.
“It would take more than you fellows to knock my head off,” returned Hicksley belligerently.
“You’d probably get along as well without it as with it,” retorted Fred. “We knocked your cap off anyway, and I notice that you changed your seat just as we told you to.”
“That was because the conductor came along,” replied Hicksley. “And it’s a mighty good thing for you that he did. If he hadn’t I’d have knocked you into the middle of next week.”
“You couldn’t knock me into to-morrow, let alone the middle of next week,” returned Fred, who was now thoroughly aroused.
“Come, come, Fred,” said Bobby soothingly. “There’s no use in getting into a temper about this fellow. He isn’t worth it.”
“I’ll show you whether I’m worth it or not,” cried Hicksley, in a rage. “Don’t you think for a minute that you’ve heard the last of this. There were four of you fellows last night, and there are three of you now. But I’ll catch each one of you alone some time, and I’ll tan each one of you within an inch of your life.”
“You’d better try it,” answered Fred. “You’d be afraid to tackle a live one. All you’re good for is to torment a helpless old man. You’re a nice fellow, you are.”
The quarrel, although it was none of the boys’ seeking, was growing so hot that it was perhaps just as well that Mr. Carrier, one of the teachers, should come walking briskly along just at that moment. He saw from their flushed faces that something unpleasant was in the wind, but thought it just as well to ignore it rather than give it importance by taking notice of it.
“Good morning, boys,” he called cordially. “It’s just about time for meeting in the main hall. I’m going over there now, and you’d better come along with me.”
This put an end to the threatening trouble for the time, and the boys followed along in his wake, Hicksley some distance behind the other three and muttering threats under his breath.
“Isn’t he a pippin?” said Bobby, in a low voice, so that Mr. Carrier could not hear.
“Looks to me like something that the cat brought in,” grumbled Fred, whose rumpled feathers took some time for smoothing.
“He’s going around looking for trouble,” observed Skeets; “and that kind is sure to find it before very long.”
“No decent fellow will want to have anything to do with him,” remarked Fred.
“Except perhaps Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks,” amended Bobby. “He’ll be just nuts for them.”
“I saiddecentfellow,” repeated Fred.
They soon reached the main assembly room into which the boys were streaming from all directions.
Dr. Raymond and the rest of the teaching staff were seated on a platform in the front of the room. When the gathering had subsided into silence, the principal rose and gave the boys a little informal talk about the duties of the coming term and the spirit in which he hoped they would go about their work. He dwelt especially on the incentives offered them to become members of the “Sword and Star,” the main society of the school, and as he mentioned the name of the society, the boys who were members jumped to their feet and gave the society yell:
“One, two, three—boom!Boom Z-z-z-ah!Rockledge! Rockledge!Sword and Star!Who’s on top?We sure are—Rock-ledge!”
“One, two, three—boom!Boom Z-z-z-ah!Rockledge! Rockledge!Sword and Star!Who’s on top?We sure are—Rock-ledge!”
“One, two, three—boom!
Boom Z-z-z-ah!
Rockledge! Rockledge!
Sword and Star!
Who’s on top?
We sure are—
Rock-ledge!”
The hearty shout brought a flush of pleasure into the doctor’s cheeks and he looked around upon his charges with a face beaming with pride. He concluded his talk with an urgent invitation to each of the boys to strive for the Medal of Honor, the highest prize within the gift of the school, and then dismissed them to their respective classes.
Here the proceedings were brief. The tasks for the following day were assigned and then the boys were left to their own devices until the hours set aside that afternoon and evening for preparing their lessons.
“Our soft snap is nearly over,” mourned Fred. “From now on it will be steady work until the end of the term.”
“But think how much fun we’ll have in between,” comforted Bobby. “I’ve got a hunch that we’re going to have the bulliest time at Rockledge that we’ve ever had yet.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Fred pessimistically.
“I said it was a hunch, didn’t I?” demanded Bobby. “You don’t have to explain a hunch. You just have it and that’s all there is to it.”
“I hate to think of buckling down to work again,” said Fred. “We had such a bully free time up in the woods that I wish it would last forever.”
“That’s all the more reason you ought to be willing to work when the time comes,” remonstrated Bobby. “Think of the poor fellows that never have any outings and have to work hard all the time.”
“I suppose you’re right,” conceded Fred. “I don’t know just what it is that makes me feel that way. It wasn’t so when I got up this morning. I’ll tell you just what I think it is,” he said, as a sudden explanation of his mood suggested itself to him. “I’ll bet it’s that Tom Hicksley. I wanted to get a crack at him this morning when Mr. Carrier came along and stopped us. I’d have felt better if I’d lit out at him.”
“Now, Fred, cut out that fighting talk,” said Bobby impatiently. “There’s nothing in it. What’s the use of getting into a row that will make your folks feel bad when they hear of it and perhaps bring you up before the doctor?”
“I notice that you’re ready enough to fight sometimes,” grumbled Fred in self-defense. “You’d have pitched into Ap Plunkit if he’d hit you with that whip yesterday morning, and you were all worked up on the train at Hicksley.”
“That’s a very different thing from looking for trouble,” said Bobby stoutly. “It’s all right to take your own part when people try to bully or strike you. But it’s always best to keep out of a fight unless you’re forced into it. There wasn’t really any reason to fight Tom Hicksley this morning, and you know it.”
“Perhaps if you had hair as red as mine you wouldn’t find it so easy to keep your temper,” said Fred, falling back on an excuse he was fond of using.
“Maybe not,” laughed Bobby, “but you can make a try at it anyhow.”
“What’s this I hear about fighting?” said Frank Durrock, as he came up behind them.
Frank was larger and older than the two boys, and a prime favorite with them. He held the post of captain of the school. This carried with it no official power, as that rested wholly with the teachers. But Frank was supposed to have a general oversight, stop any disorder that went too far and in general to act as a sort of big brother to the younger boys.
He was a fine athlete also, and had been captain of the football team on which Bobby and Fred had played the preceding fall and which had won the Thanksgiving game from Belden. His skill in baseball was also marked, and he was expected to play first base on the nine in the spring.
“Oh, Fred was feeling a little sore over a row he had with Hicksley this morning,” explained Bobby.
“That new fellow?” asked Durrock. “I passed him a little while ago and he was talking with Bronson and Jinks. They seemed to be quite chummy together.”
“What did I tell you?” cried Fred to Bobby. “I knew those fellows would get together as sure as shooting.”
“They’re three of a kind,” assented Bobby.
“I don’t know anything about what kind of fellow he is,” remarked Frank, “but somebody was telling me that he was a good baseball player.”
The boys did not think it was worth while to tell what they knew of Hicksley and so kept quiet.
“He’s big and husky and ought to make a good slugger,” continued Frank, “and we can’t have too much batting strength on our nine. So if he can field as well as bat, he may be able to get a place on the team.”
The prospect was not at all pleasing to Bobby and Fred, but above everything else they were loyal to the school, and if the newcomer would be a help to the Rockledge nine they were perfectly willing to forget their own feeling.
“So you see, Fred,” continued Frank, “you don’t want to hold any grudge you may have against Hicksley. I don’t know what your scrap was about and I don’t want to know, but whatever it is, forget it.”
“Sure I will,” said Fred heartily.
“You know how it was on the football team,” went on Frank. “There were fellows on that team that you didn’t like—Jinks, for instance—but you overlooked that feeling and played good football just the same. And we want to do the same thing on the nine.
“I’m especially anxious to get up a strong nine this year,” he continued, “because we’re going to have some pretty nifty teams against us. Belden has got two or three new fellows that they say are crackerjacks and they’ll give us all we want to do to beat ’em.
“Then, too, we’re going to have a little different scheme this season than we ever had before. While you hunters have been up in the woods shooting bears”—here he grinned—“I’ve been hustling around with a few others and organized a new league.”
“A new league!” exclaimed Bobby and Fred in the same breath.
“A new league!” repeated Skeets Brody and Sparrow Bangs, who had come up just in time to hear the last words. “What do you mean, Frank? Tell us all about it.”
They gathered about him, their eyes glistening.