CHAPTER XXIXA WILD CHASE
Not five minutes had elapsed before Hicksley was lying on the floor of the hall, holding his hand to his eyes and nose.
“Get up!” Bobby commanded.
Hicksley did nothing but grunt.
“Have you had enough?” asked Bobby.
“Enough,” mumbled the bully, all the fight taken out of him.
He slunk away, while the boys, who had crowded out into the hall at the sound of combat and had viewed with rapture the defeat of the bully, gathered about Bobby, who, except for a bruise on his forehead, showed no sign of the battle.
“Bully for you, Bobby!” crowed Mouser.
“Scubbity-yow!” howled Fred in delight. “That was a peach of a scrap.”
“He got all that was coming to him,” exulted Sparrow.
“Hicksley couldn’t lick a postage stamp!” exclaimed Skeets gleefully.
“He must have learned to fight by mail,” grinned Shiner.
“A mighty good job you made of it, Bobby,” commended Billy Bassett.
“I wasn’t looking for trouble,” explained Bobby, “but when he butted into me and knocked me down the stairs, I couldn’t help pitching into him.”
For the rest of that day and evening little else was thought of or spoken of but the “trimming” that Bobby had given to the bully. But apart from the satisfaction of having Hicksley get what he so richly deserved, a still greater joy was in the hearts of all.
Bobby Blake was back again on the team!
“Now,” cried Fred, expressing the hope and belief of all, “you’ll see Rockledge begin to climb.”
And Rockledge did climb with a vengeance.
The very next Saturday with Bobby in the box and pitching gilt-edged ball they walked all over Belden, not only beating their chief rival but doing it to the score of seven to nothing. The whole team played behind their pitcher as though they were inspired with new life. And from that time on, the Beldenites drew into their shell and did not do so much crowing when they met the Rockledge boys in the town.
But Bobby and his comrades knew that they still had a heavy task before them, if they were to win the pennant of the Monatook Lake League.
Belden had now won four games and lost two. Rockledge was even in gains and losses, having won three and lost three. If there had been many more games to play, Rockledge would have felt much more confident, for she was now traveling faster than her rival. But the end of the season was coming fearfully close, and there were only three more games to play.
“Belden is the one we’ve got to beat,” declared Frank. “We’ve got the Indian sign, I think, on Somerset and Ridgefield.”
As far as Ridgefield was concerned, this seemed true, for Rockledge won the game by four to two, his mates handing Bobby a lead in the first inning that he was able to keep throughout the game. But as Belden also won on the same day from Somerset, though after a harder battle, the Rockledge boys were still “trailing” the school across the lake.
The excitement now was reaching fever pitch, and it broke all bounds the following Saturday, when Belden came a cropper with Ridgefield, being “nosed out” in the ninth by a sudden rally on the part of their opponents, while Rockledge won handily from Somerset in a free batting game by ten runs to six.
“Hurrah!” yelled Mouser, “we’re tied with Belden now.”
“Bobby has pulled us up in dandy shape,” declared Frank. “You’re a wonder, Bobby, old scout.”
“Just keep it up for one more game, Bobby,” pleaded Sparrow.
“Scubbity-yow!” shouted Fred. “I’ll bet old Belden is shaking in its boots.”
Somerset and Ridgefield had played good ball in spots, but now they were out of the race. Belden and Rockledge had each won five and lost three, and the game that was to be played between them on the following Saturday would wind up the season and decide which of the teams was to win the pennant of the Monatook Lake League.
It was almost impossible for the boys to keep their minds on their lessons, but as there were only ten days remaining in the school term this did not matter to the same degree as it would have done earlier in the year.
But an incident occurred on the Monday following the game with Somerset that gave a new slant to their thoughts, and for a few hours drove even thoughts of the pennant from the minds of Bobby and his friends.
Shiner had been invited to go for an automobile ride by a friend of his family, who was staying for a few days at Rockledge. He came rushing into the dormitory with his eyes bulging.
“Say, fellows!” he gasped, “if you want to catch those tramps of yours, come along with me.”
“What do you mean?” his chums asked in chorus, as they made a wild grab for their hats.
“I’ve seen them,” panted Shiner. “But come along and I’ll tell you. Hustle!”
The boys rushed downstairs to find an automobile waiting. Beside Mr. Wharton, the owner, they recognized the constable.
“Tumble in,” said Mr. Wharton, smiling, and a half dozen boys swarmed into the automobile.
“You see,” explained Shiner, “we passed three tramps about two miles from here, and I saw that two of them were the ones we saw the day we were swimming. I told Mr. Wharton and we put on speed, picked up the constable and hurried up for you, so that you could go along and identify them.”
Mr. Wharton had started the car the moment the boys were inside, and it was skimming along like a bird. It went so fast that the boys had to hold on to their caps, and although they were all chattering with might and main, the wind made it almost impossible for one to hear what the others were saying.
In a very few minutes they saw three figures on the lonely country road ahead. The one in the center had a limp that was familiar.
The tramps heard the coming car, and at first stood aside to let it pass. But as it slowed up on approaching them, they took alarm, climbed over a fence and started across the fields toward a piece of woodland a little way off.
Their pursuers leaped from the car and gave chase. The lithe limbs of the boys gave them an advantage over their heavier companions, and they were soon on the heels of the tramps, who turned snarling and faced them.
“Keep off or I’ll club the life out of you,” shouted one, whom they recognized as the man with the scar.
“No you won’t,” cried Bobby, defiantly.
“We want the things you stole from us,” sang out Fred.
“Jail for yours!” Mouser shouted.
They circled round the men, thus holding them in check, and in another moment Mr. Wharton and the constable had come up and each grabbed one of the men by the collar. At the sight of the constable’s star, the other quickly wilted.
The officer slipped handcuffs on them all and pushed them into the ear, while the boys crowded in as best they could, two of them standing on the running-board. In triumph, they went back to town and the men were placed in jail.
First they were searched, and, greatly to the boys’ delight, pawn tickets were found that accounted for all the articles that had been stolen from them. The money of course was gone, but the boys cared little for that, as long as they were sure that they could get back their cherished personal possessions.
“We’re some demon thief catchers, all right,” chuckled Mouser.
“He would call me red-head, would he?” grinned Fred, referring to the scar-faced tramp.
“It means good luck for us, fellows,” declared Bobby. “Now, I’msurewe’re going to down Belden.”