Job Haskers took but little interest in athletics, declaring he thought too much time was wasted over field sports, but Andrew Dale was keenly alive to what was going on. He knew all about the trouble in the football organization, and he watched the departure of Dave and his chums with interest.
"Aren't you going, Mr. Dale?" asked Dave.
"Oh, yes, I am going in the carriage with Doctor Clay. Do you think we shall win, Porter?"
"We'll win if rooting can do it!" cried Dave.
"Then you intend to 'root,' as you call it?"
"Yes, sir—we are going to root for all we are worth."
"I am glad to know it," answered Andrew Dale; and then he turned away to attend to some school duties. Later on, when he and the doctor were on the way to the game, he mentioned the trouble in the football club, and told how Dave and his chums had been left out in the cold, and how Dave and the others were now going to cheer for and encourage the school eleven.
"Fine! Grand!" murmured the master of the school, his eye lighting up with pleasure. "That is the proper school spirit! It does Porter, Morr, and the others great credit."
"Exactly what I think, Doctor," answered the first assistant. "Many players would have remained away altogether, or gone to the game to throw cold water on the efforts of those on the gridiron. It shows a manliness that cannot be excelled."
"Yes! yes!" murmured Doctor Clay. "A fine lot of boys, truly! A fine lot! It seems a pity they were forced off the team."
"Perhaps they'll be back—before the football season is over," answered Andrew Dale, gravely.
"What do you mean, Dale?"
"Perhaps the football eleven will need them and be glad to get them back."
When Dave and his chums reached the athletic grounds they found the grandstand and the bleachers about half filled with people. The Lemington contingent had a good number of rooters, and they were already filling the air with their cries of encouragement. The boys looked around, but saw nothing of Vera Rockwell or Mary Feversham.
"Maybe they didn't think it worth while to come," suggested the senator's son.
"No Rockville fellows here, either," said Phil. "They play an eleven from Elmwood this afternoon."
The Lemington players were already on the field, and it was seen that they were rather light in weight, only the full-back being of good size.
"Our eleven has the advantage in weight," said Roger. "But I rather fancy those fellows are swift."
"Yes, and they may be tricky," added Ben.
As soon as Dave and his chums were seated, Dave gave the signal, and the Oak Hall cheer was given. Then followed another cheer for the school eleven, with a tooting of horns and a clacking of wooden rattles.
"Mercy! but those Oak Hall students can make a noise!" exclaimed one girl, sitting close by.
"That is what they call 'rooting'!" answered her friend. "Isn't it lovely!"
"Perfectly delicious! They ought to win, if they shout like that!"
Guy Frapley heard the racket, and walked over to the spot from whence it proceeded. He was astonished beyond measure to see Dave leading off, yelling at the top of his lungs, and waving a rattle in one hand and the school colors in the other.
"What do you think of that?" he asked, of Nat Poole.
"Oh, Porter and his crowd want to make out they don't feel stung over being out of it," grumbled Nat.
"But they are rooting harder than anybody."
"They'll be glad to see us lose."
"We are not going to lose."
"I didn't say we were," answered Nat, and walked away. Somehow, it made him angry to see Dave and his chums cheering, and in such an earnest manner. He would have been better satisfied had Dave acted grouchy or stayed away from the game.
The game was to be of two halves, of thirty minutes each, with ten minutes intermission. Oak Hall won the toss-up, and as there was no wind and no choice of goals, they kept the ball, and Lemington took the south end of the gridiron.
"Now, then, here is where Oak Hall wins!" cried Dave, loudly. "Do your level best, fellows!"
"Shove her over the line, first thing!" added Roger.
"Oak Hall! Oak Hall!" yelled Phil. "Now then, all together in the game!"
Under the inspiration of the cheering, Oak Hall made a fine kick-off, and by some spirited work carried the pigskin well down into the Lemington territory. But then the ball was lost by Nat Poole, and the opposing eleven brought it back to the center of the gridiron, and then rushed it up to the thirty-yard line of the school.
"That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter. "You've got 'em going!"
"Send it back!" yelled Dave. "All together, for Oak Hall!" And this cry was taken up by a hundred throats.
Guy Frapley got the ball, a minute later, and made a really fine run around the Lemington left end. This brought the pigskin again to center, and there it remained for nearly five minutes, the downs on both sides availing little or nothing. A scrimmage followed, in which one Lemington player was injured, and he accused one of the Oak Hall fellows, a new player named Bemis, of foul play. This protest was sustained, and Bemis was retired and another new player named Cardell was substituted.
"Five minutes more!" was the cry, and again both elevens went at it. Dave suddenly saw the captain of the Lemingtons make a certain sign to some of his men.
"They are up to some trick!" he cried to his chums, and hardly had he spoken when the ball went into play, through center and across to the left end. It was picked up like a flash, passed to the quarter-back, who was on the watch for it, and carried toward the Oak Hall line with a rush.
"A touchdown for Lemington!"
"That's the way to do it!"
"Now, Higgins, make it a goal!"
Amid a wild cheering, the pigskin was brought out for the kick, and the goal was made.
"That's the way to do it!"
"Now for another touchdown!"
Again the pigskin was brought into play. But while it was still near the center of the field the whistle blew and the first half of the game came to an end.
Score: Lemington 6, Oak Hall 0.
It must be confessed that it was a sorry-looking eleven that straggled into the Oak Hall dressing-room to discuss the situation.
"You want more snap!" cried John Rand, the manager.
"They put up a trick on us!" grumbled Nat. "They got that touchdown by a fluke."
"Well, I wish we could make one in the same way," retorted Rand. Since being elected manager, he had had anything but an easy task of it to make the eleven pull together. Some of the old players wanted Dave, Roger, Phil, and the others back, and threatened to leave unless a change was made.
"This looks as if Oak Hall was out of it," whispered Phil to his chums, during the intermission.
"Oh, I don't know," returned Dave. "A touchdown and a goal isn't such a wonderful lead."
At the beginning of the second half it was seen that Guy Frapley and his fellow-players were determined to do something if they could. But they were excited and wild, and the captain could do little to hold them in. Several times they got confused on the signals, and once one of the new ends lost the ball on a fumble that looked almost childish. Inside of ten minutes, amid a mad yelling from the Lemington supporters, the ball was forced over the Oak Hall line for another touchdown, and another goal was kicked. Then, five minutes later, came a goal from the field.
"Hurrah! That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter.
"Fifteen to nothing!" cried another. "Thought Oak Hall knew how to play football!"
"They ought to play some primary school kids!"
"You shut up!" screamed Nat Poole, in sudden rage. "We know what we are doing!"
"You ought to be an ice-man,—you're slow enough," retorted the Lemingtonite, and this brought forth a laugh, and made Nat madder than ever.
Again the ball was placed in play, and this time Oak Hall did all it could to hold its own. But it was of no avail. Lemington carried the air of victory with it, and its confidence could not be withstood. Again the ball was shoved over the line for a touchdown, and again the goal was kicked, amid a cheering that was deafening.
"It's a slaughter!" murmured Roger.
"I am afraid so," answered Dave. "Too bad! I am sorry for the school!"
"So am I," said the senator's son, and Phil and Ben nodded gravely.
The last five minutes of the game only served to "rub it in," as Shadow expressed it, for Lemington scored again, this time, however, failing to kick the goal. When the whistle blew the pigskin was on the Oak Hall twenty-five yard line.
Final score: Lemington 26, Oak Hall 0.
It is perhaps needless to state that the local supporters yelled and cheered, and blew their horns, and clacked their rattles until they were exhausted. It was a great victory, for in the past Oak Hall had been a formidable rival on the gridiron. The eleven cheered for Oak Hall, and were cheered in return; and then the visitors got out of sight as quickly as possible.
"A bitter defeat truly," said Doctor Clay, while driving back to the school. "Our boys did not seem to play together at all."
"It was very ragged work," answered Andrew Dale. "But it is no more than I expected, from what I saw in the practice games. Our eleven will be able to do but little unless it improves wonderfully."
"I believe you, Dale. Don't you—ah—think they would do better if Porter and Morr and Lawrence were in the line-up?"
"I certainly do. But they have been voted out, so I was told."
"Ahem!" Doctor Clay grew thoughtful. "What does Mr. Dodsworth think about it?" The party he mentioned was the gymnastic teacher, who took quite an interest in football, although not officially.
"He thinks Porter, Morr, Lawrence, and Plum ought to be put back on the eleven. He says it is a shame that they were put off in the first place."
"I believe our school is to play Rockville Academy next."
"Yes, and I just got a message over the telephone that Rockville won from Elmwood this afternoon, twelve to four. I know Elmwood has a strong eleven, so Rockville must be extra good this season."
"Exactly so; and that means, if our eleven is not greatly strengthened before we meet Rockville, we shall suffer another defeat," responded the master of Oak Hall, rubbing his chin reflectively.
"More than likely, sir."
"Too bad! In these days some folks think football and baseball quite as important—ahem!—as—er—some studies. It is a wrong idea, assuredly,—yet I—ahem!—I think it would be a very good thing if we could show the world that our students can play football as well as do other things."
"Football is a great thing at Yale, Harvard, and Princeton, Doctor."
"Yes, indeed! I remember well how I used to witness those stirring games, and how I would yell with the rest. Why, Dale, one year we had a quarter-back that was a corker. They couldn't stop him! He got the pigskin and skinned down the field like a blue streak, and—but, ahem! that is past history now," finished the doctor, bringing himself back to his usual dignity. "But I must look into this football matter more closely," he added with a speculative sigh.
Poole, Frapley, and their crowd had arranged for a banquet that night, and many others of Oak Hall had gathered boxes and barrels for bonfires. The banquet was a tame affair, and not a single fire was lighted.
"We are having frost early this year," said Luke, dryly.
"Yes, it came on suddenly, this afternoon," added Shadow.
"I'll wager you will hear something drop in the football team before long," went on Luke. "The school won't stand for such work as we had to-day."
"Who is to blame?"
"Rand, Frapley, Bemis, and Nat Poole."
"Then they better resign."
"Just what I say."
During the evening the talk throughout the school was largely about the game, and nearly every player was severely criticised. It was agreed that Bemis had acted in a thoroughly unsportsmanlike manner, and he was told that he would have to resign, and he agreed to do so. It was also agreed by the students generally that of the new players, Guy Frapley had done the best work.
"Give him proper support and he would be all right," said Dave. "But, in my opinion, the eleven as it now stands will never win a victory."
"And that is what I think, too," added Roger.
On Monday morning the students of Oak Hall were treated to a surprise. Directly after chapel service Doctor Clay came forward to make an address. He first spoke about the good work that the pupils were, generally speaking, doing, and then branched off about the football game, and the poor exhibition made on the gridiron.
"In the past I have not thought it proper for the head of this institution to take part in your football and baseball games, contenting myself with giving you an instructor in the gymnasium alone," he continued. "But I find that these sports now play a more or less prominent part in all boarding schools and colleges, and that being so, I have thought it wise to embrace all field sports in the gymnasium department. Consequently, from to-day your football elevens, your baseball nines, and your track athletics, and in fact all your sports, will be held under the supervision and direction of Mr. Dodsworth, your gymnasium instructor. He will be assisted by Mr. Dale, who, as you all know, was once a leading college football and baseball player. These two gentlemen will aid you in reorganizing your football eleven, and will do all in their power to give to Oak Hall the victories you all desire."
This announcement came as a bombshell to Rand, Frapley, Poole, and their cohorts, and it was equally surprising to all of the others who had played on the eleven.
"That means a shaking-up for us all right," said one of the players. "I can see somebody getting fired already."
"Do you suppose they intend to take the management away from me and Rand?" demanded Frapley. "I don't think that is fair. Rand was made manager by a popular vote."
"If they want me to resign, I'll do it," snapped the manager. He had been so severely criticised that he was growing tired of it.
"It's a shame that we can't run our club to suit ourselves," grumbled Nat Poole. "If the teachers are going to do it, maybe they had better do the playing too."
"Well, they'd play a heap sight better than you did, Nat," was the remark of another student.
Doctor Clay's announcement created such a stir that the students could think of little else during the day. All felt that from henceforth football, baseball, and track athletics would become a regular part of the institution.
In the afternoon a notice was posted up in the Hall and in the gymnasium, calling a special meeting of all who were interested in the football organization. The meeting was called for Tuesday afternoon at four o'clock, and the call was signed by Mr. Dodsworth and Mr. Dale.
"They are not going to let any grass grow under their feet," remarked the senator's son, as he and Dave read the notice.
"Shall you go to the meeting, Roger?"
"Of course. And you must go, too, Dave. I know Mr. Dale and Mr. Dodsworth want all the fellows to be there."
Following the posting of the notice came word that Rand had resigned the management of the eleven, and then came another notice calling for the election of a new manager.
"Let us put up Henry Fordham again," suggested Phil. "That is, if he is willing to run."
The football meeting was attended by nearly every student of Oak Hall, the gymnasium meeting room being literally packed. The only youth who was absent was John Rand.
Mr. Dale called the meeting to order, and made a neat speech, in which he advised the lads to act soberly and accordingly to their best judgment. He said the football game with Lemington had proved a great disappointment, and he sincerely trusted that the reorganized eleven would be able to lead the school to nothing but victories. He added that as Rand had resigned, they would first proceed to the election of a new manager, and then the rearranging of the eleven would be begun under the direction of Mr. Dodsworth and himself.
The teacher had scarcely finished his speech when Guy Frapley was on his feet.
"Mr. Dale, I wish to say something," he almost shouted. "As everybody here knows, I am the captain of the football eleven. What I want to know is, whether I am to be the captain of the eleven or not. If I am to be nothing but a figurehead, why, I'd rather get out."
It was an aggressive, almost brutal, manner of expressing himself, and it produced an uproar.
"Put him out!"
"Make him resign!"
"Tell him he has got to behave himself and make good!"
"Boys! Young gentlemen! We must have quietness!" cried Andrew Dale, raising his hand. And then he rapped for order.
"I'll resign!" shouted Guy Frapley, when he could be heard. "I don't want anything more to do with the old team, anyway!" And in a rage he forced his way out of the gymnasium. Several of his friends tried to get him to return, but without avail.
The departure of Frapley brought about a semblance of order, and presently the gymnasium instructor got up to talk. What he said was directly to the point. He said that he had prepared a list of names of former football players of Oak Hall, with a record of the work of each individual. This list would be used in making up the reorganized team.
"That's the talk!" cried one student. "That's the common-sense way of going at it."
"Merit is what counts every time," added another.
When a vote was taken for a new manager, Henry Fordham was elected almost unanimously. In accepting, the new manager stated that he was glad he was going to have the assistance of Mr. Dale and Mr. Dodsworth, and he hoped that from now on the club would pull together and pile up nothing but victories. This speech was well received and loudly applauded.
Then the list of football players of past seasons was read. Dave was placed at the top of the list, with Phil, Plum, Roger, and Sam following in the order named. Nat Poole's name was sixteenth, much to his disgust.
"I suppose that means that I can't play on the eleven," he growled.
"You may become a substitute," answered Mr. Dodsworth.
"Not much! If I can't play on the eleven, I know what I'll do—I'll pack my trunk and go home!"
"Do it right away!" shouted a voice from the rear of the room.
"You'll never be missed, Poole," added another.
"All right, I'll leave!" shouted Poole, purple with rage, and then he left the meeting as abruptly as Guy Frapley had done. At the door he shook his fist at the crowd. "You just wait—I'll fix Oak Hall for this!" he added, sourly.
"How foolish!" murmured Luke. "Nat will never make any friends by acting like that."
"Do you think he'll leave Oak Hall?" questioned another boy.
"Perhaps,—if his father will let him."
Following the departure of Nat Poole came the reorganizing of the football eleven. Dave was placed in the position he had occupied the year before, and Phil, Roger, Sam, and Plum followed. Of those who had played against Lemington only five were retained—those who had been on the eleven one and two years previous. All the other players were told they would have to enter the scrub team, for a try-out for the substitute bench.
It filled Dave's heart with pleasure to get back in his old position. He was unanimously chosen as captain of the eleven, and he called for some practice every afternoon that week,—a call that was indorsed by Mr. Dodsworth, Mr. Dale, and the new manager.
"We have got to get right down to business—if we want to beat Rockville," said Dave, to the others. "I understand they put up a stiff game with Elmwood. If we are beaten, all the fellows who were put off the eleven will have the laugh on us."
"We'll do our best," cried the senator's son.
"It's a good thing we organized the Old Guard," said Phil. "That kept us in fine condition."
Practice commenced in earnest the next day, and was kept up every afternoon, under the supervision of Mr. Dale and the gymnasium instructor. Mr. Dodsworth perfected the eleven in signal work, and Andrew Dale showed them how to work several trick plays used effectively by the college he had attended.
Many of the students wondered what Guy Frapley, Nat Poole, and John Rand would do. On the day following the reorganization of the football eleven, all three students sent telegrams to their parents, and received replies the next day. Rand and Frapley left Oak Hall, and announced that they were going to Rockville Military Academy. Nat Poole had wanted to go, too, but Aaron Poole would not permit it, for the reason that he had paid for Nat's board and tuition in advance, and he was not the man to sacrifice one cent by such a move. Later on he wrote a letter, stating that he didn't believe in any such foolishness as football anyway, and Nat had better settle down to his studies and get some good of the money that was being spent on him. This letter angered Nat exceedingly, but he could do nothing without his parent's consent, and so he settled down as best he could.
"I shouldn't wonder if Rand and Frapley become cronies of Merwell and Jasniff," said Dave to Phil. And so it proved,—the four became quite intimate, and all of them vowed that sooner or later they would "settle accounts" with Dave for the trouble he and his chums had caused them. The ringleader of the four was Nick Jasniff, and he resolved to do something that would put Dave in the deepest kind of disgrace. Not to expose himself, he matured his plans slowly and with great caution.
Although Dave was doing all in his power to make the football eleven a good one, he was not permitted to devote all his spare time to that organization. Oak Hall, as my old readers know, boasted of a secret organization known as the Gee Eyes, those words standing for the initials G and I, which in their turn stood for the words Guess It. Dave and his chums were all members of this society, which was kept up mainly for the fun of initiating new members.
"The Gee Eyes meet to-night, Dave," said Buster Beggs on Friday morning. "Big affair—initiation of six new members. You must be on hand."
"I think I had better go to bed—so as to be in good trim for the football game," answered Dave.
"Oh, no, you must come!" pleaded Buster. "Phil and Roger, and all the old crowd have promised to be there."
"Well, I'll be on hand if you'll promise not to keep us out after twelve o'clock, Buster. The eleven has got to get its sleep, remember that."
"All right, we'll try to cut it short," answered Buster Beggs, who, this term, was the leader of the society, or Right Honorable Muck-a-Muck, as he was called.
"What are you going to do?" questioned Dave.
"That's a secret, Dave. But it will make you laugh. We are going to initiate the whole six at one time."
"Very well, I'll be there."
"One thing more, Dave," went on Buster, in a low voice. "Keep this from Nat Poole."
"But he is a member," urged Dave. "He has a right to know."
"If he knew he'd tell on us sure—he is down on the whole crowd. We are going to drop him."
"I see. Well, you are leader this term, Buster, so do as you please," answered Dave, and walked off to one of his recitations. Then Buster hurried off in another direction.
As soon as the two students were gone a third boy tiptoed his way from behind a coat rack, where he had been in hiding. The lad was Nat Poole.
"I thought something was in the wind!" murmured Nat to himself. "I must find out just where they are going, and what they are going to do,—and then I'll let Doctor Clay know all about it. Maybe if Porter and his crowd are caught red-handed they'll be put in disgrace, and then they won't be able to play that game with Rockville!"
"Are we all ready?"
"We are."
"Then forward—and make as little noise as possible until we are out of hearing of the school."
The Gee Eyes had assembled at the boathouse, under the leadership of Buster Beggs and Ben Basswood. Three of the number had gone ahead, taking with them the six new students who were to be initiated.
The members of the society had with them their robes and other paraphernalia, consisting of boxlike headgear, stuffed clubs, wooden swords, squirt guns, and other articles too numerous to mention. They hurried off into the woods, and there donned the robes and headgear, and lit their lanterns, for the night promised to be dark.
"I hope nobody has found us out," ventured Roger. "We don't want to get caught at this." He had received an inkling of what was coming.
"Oh, I guess we are safe enough," answered Dave. "Murphy said he would let us in."
"Say, talking about being let in puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "A man stayed out later nights than his wife liked. One night he didn't come home until very late, and he stood on the sidewalk, afraid to let himself in. Along came a friend and asked him what he was doing. 'Please ring the bell and see if my wife is home,' said the man. So the friend rang the bell, and the next instant the door opened, and he got a broom over his head. 'Is she in?' asked the man on the sidewalk. 'Sure she is,' answered his friend. 'Go right in and you'll get a warm welcome!'" And at this story there was a general snicker.
A few minutes' walk brought the members of the Gee Eyes to a clearing in the woods. Here several lanterns had been hung up, casting a weird light of red, blue, and green. Those to be initiated were present, and surrounding them in a big circle, the members of the society commenced to chant:
"Flabboola! flabboola!See the victims, see!Flabboola! flabboola!Victim, bend your knee!Sinky panky! flabboola!Fall upon the ground!Sinky panky! flabboola!Sing without a sound!"
"Flabboola! flabboola!See the victims, see!Flabboola! flabboola!Victim, bend your knee!Sinky panky! flabboola!Fall upon the ground!Sinky panky! flabboola!Sing without a sound!"
And then came a wild dancing around the victims, with a brandishing of clubs and swords.
"Hi! don't stab me!" roared one, as a sword was thrust suddenly in the direction of his stomach.
"Shut up!" murmured the victim next to him. "They won't hurt you."
"The Right Honorable Lord of the Reservoir will warm up the victims' backbones!" sang out Buster, in a hoarse bass voice. And then Shadow Hamilton, in his disguise, crept behind the nearest victim, and sent a stream of ice-water from a squirt-gun down the fellow's neck.
"Wow! wow!" yelled the student, trying to break away from the pair who held him. "Crimps! but that's cold!"
"'Tis for thy good we do this to thee!" said Shadow, solemnly, and then the next victim was treated to a similar dose. He submitted quietly, and so did the next fellow, but the fourth broke away, and started off in the direction of the school.
"Hi, come back here!" yelled several. "Don't you want to become a member?"
"I—I guess I've changed my mind!" stammered the youth. "I—er—I can't stand cold baths, nohow. If you—Hello, what's this!" And of a sudden he pitched over some dark object, and went headlong.
"Ouch!" came in another voice. "Ouch! What do you mean by kicking me in the ribs?" And a groan of pain followed.
"Who is behind those bushes?" asked Dave.
"Must be a spy!" returned Phil.
"A spy! A spy! Capture him!"
"Don't let him get back to the school!"
On the instant there was great excitement, and fully a dozen members of the Gee Eyes rushed forward and caught hold of the escaping victim, and the fellow over whom he had stumbled. Both were dragged forward, and the light of a lantern was turned on the unknown.
"Why, it's Nat Poole!"
"He was spying on us!"
"Maybe he was going to report us!"
"You le—let go of me!" stammered Nat. He put his hand to his side. "That fellow half killed me!" And he gave another groan.
"What were you doing in the bushes?" demanded Ben, sternly.
"Me? Why—er—nothing."
"Yes, you were."
"I'll wager a button he was going to report us!" exclaimed another student.
"It ain't so!" whined Nat. "Ain't I got a right to be here? I'm a member."
"No, you are not—you've been cast out!" answered a deep bass voice.
"If he wants to be one of us, he's got to be initiated all over again!" said Phil, in a disguised voice. "What say, boys, shall we do it?"
"Yes! yes! Put him with the others!"
"Sure thing! Nat, you are just in time!"
"We'll give you an initiation you'll never forget, a regular three-ply, dyed in the wool, warranted storm-proof initiation," added Ben, in tragic tones.
"I don't want to be initiated again!" howled the money-lender's son. "I've had enough of this society. You let me go!"
"Not to-night!" was the firm answer, and much against his will Nat was forced to go along with the crowd; and thus his plan to find out what they were going to do, and then carry the news to Doctor Clay, was nipped in the bud.
"We were lucky to catch Nat," whispered Dave to Roger, as the whole crowd proceeded through the woods, led by Buster and Ben. "I am certain he was spying on us for no good purpose."
"Exactly, Dave, and we want to watch him right along," returned the senator's son. "First thing you know, he'll be giving our football signals and tricks away to Rockville and the other schools we are going to play."
Nat had been forced to join the other victims, and the seven were marched a distance of a quarter of a mile. The crowd came out on the bank of the river, at a spot where several ice-houses had recently been erected.
"Now, we'll give you the famous slide for life!" cried Buster, and pointed to the upper portion of one of the ice-houses, where a big wooden slide led downward into the Leming River.
"I can't stand cold water!" cried the victim who had previously tried to run away.
"'Twill do you a power of good!" answered Sam, in a deep voice.
"Say, you ain't going to dump me into the river from that thing!" roared Nat Poole. "I won't stand it!"
"Then sit down to it, Nat!" came a voice from the rear.
Of a sudden the seven victims were blindfolded. Several protested weakly, but the others kept silent, for they knew it would do no good to attempt to hold back; indeed, it might make matters worse. Yet nobody in that crowd wanted a ducking, for the water was cold, and they were quite a distance from the school.
Some narrow stairs led to the upper portion of the ice-houses, and blindfolded as they were, the victims were forced to mount these and were then taken to a room in the back of one of the buildings.
"Now for Number One!" sang out Buster, and one of the victims was rushed forward to a slide.
"Hope you can swim, Carson!" said one of the hazers.
"The water isn't over ten feet deep," said another.
"Swim hard and then you won't take cold," added a third.
"If you find yourself really drowning, yell for help," put in a fourth.
"I—er—I don't think this is quite fair——" commenced poor Carson, and then he was tripped flat on his back and sent downward with a plunge. "Oh!" he screamed, and then continued to go down, with great rapidity, for the slide had been looked over by the boys, and made as smooth as possible. He shut his mouth tightly, expecting every instant to strike the chilling waters, but of a sudden his feet struck a heap of sawdust, and into this he slid up to his knees. Then eager hands seized him, and the bandage was torn from his eyes. In the semi-darkness he saw that he had not come down the slide over the water, but down another, which ended in the sawdust pit of the ice-house. He looked decidedly sheepish.
"Have a fine swim, Carson?" asked one of his tormentors.
"What a sell!" muttered the victim. "But anyway, it's better than the river!" he added, with much satisfaction.
One after another the victims were sent down the wooden slide. Some came down silently, like martyrs, while others yelled in alarm. Nat Poole was the last to be brought forward. He was well blindfolded.
"Be careful, Nat!" cried one student, gravely. "Don't hit your head when you go down."
"And don't scratch yourself on any of the nails," added another.
"As soon as you hit the water somebody will haul you in with a boathook," came from a third.
"I—I don't want to slide into the water, I tell you!" screamed the money-lender's son. "I'll catch my death of cold!"
"You run all the way back to school and get into bed and you'll be all right!" said a fourth hazer.
"I—I can't swim very well! You let me go!" And now Nat was fairly whining.
"Can't do it, Nat! Here is where you get a first-class, A No. 1, bath!" was the cry, and then the victim was sent flat on his back on the wooden slide. He let up a shriek of agony, and another shriek as he commenced to slide down. Then he lost his nerve completely, and uttered yell after yell, only ending when he struck the sawdust with such force that he turned a complete somersault and got some sawdust in his mouth and nose.
"My, but he certainly knows how to scream!" remarked Dave, as he and the others rushed below, to join the crowd. "I hope he doesn't rouse the neighborhood."
When the cloth was removed from Nat's eyes, and he had a chance to see where he had landed, he was the maddest lad present. All the other victims were laughing at him, and the club members almost doubled up in their mirth.
"Think you're smart, don't you?" he snarled. "But you just wait!"
"Want more of the initiation?" demanded Buster.
"No, I don't! You let me go! I'm going back to the school!"
"So are we, Nat, and you'll go with us," answered Shadow. "Don't let him get away from us!" he whispered to his friends.
"Well, this winds up the initiation," said Buster, throwing off his headgear, a movement that was followed by the others. "You fellows are now full-fledged members of the Gee Eyes."
"And I'm glad it is over," answered one of the victims. "Say, but that was a dandy shoot the chutes!" he added, half in admiration.
"It is not quite as firm as it might be," said Dave. "It needs more bracing up on the sides. The carpenters aren't done, I suppose."
"I thought it was mighty shaky myself," put in Phil. "Why, once I thought it was going down with us."
"Oh, it's as sound as a dollar!" cried Shadow. "Of course, with such a crowd——"
Shadow did not finish, for from above the boys in the sawdust pit, there came a sudden ominous cracking. In the semi-darkness of the night they saw a brace snap in twain. Another brace quickly followed, and then the wooden slide commenced to sway from side to side.
"It's coming down!" yelled Roger, hoarsely. "Get out of here quick—unless you want to be killed!"
It was a time of extreme peril for the boys in the sawdust pit at the bottom of the wooden slide, and nobody realized this more thoroughly than did Dave. In some manner the wooden bracings had become loosened, and the ponderous slide was in danger of coming down with a mighty crash on their heads. If it did this, more than likely some of the lads would be seriously injured, if not killed.
"Jump from the pit!" yelled Dave, and caught Phil by one hand and Roger by the other. All made a wild scramble, kicking the sawdust in all directions.
"Let me get out of here!"
"Confound this robe, I'm all tangled up in it!"
"My foot is caught! Help me, won't you?"
Such were some of the cries that arose, as, in a bunch, the boys tried to get out of the sawdust pit. All succeeded but Buster Beggs, who, while on the rim of the pit, slipped and fell back,—just as another brace snapped, and the ponderous wooden slide sagged still more.
"Help me!" yelled Buster. "Don't leave me, fellows!"
"Here, give me your hand!" cried Dave, turning back, and as the hand was thrust towards him, he gave a jerk that brought Buster out in a hurry. By this time most of the boys had run to a safe distance, and Dave and Buster lost no time in following.
"All here?" demanded Ben. The lanterns had been left behind, so that they could see only with difficulty.
A rapid count was made, and it was learned that all were safe. One student had scratched his face, and another had wrenched his ankle, but in the excitement these minor injuries were scarcely noticed.
"Thank fortune we are out of that!" panted Phil.
"I'm mighty glad I wasn't killed," added Luke.
"I wonder if the slide is really coming down after all," remarked Sam. "It doesn't seem to be moving any more."
All peered forth in the semi-darkness at the big wooden affair. It had sagged in the middle, and the top had twisted several feet to one side. Another brace looked as if it was on the point of breaking and letting it down still further.
"Better get out of here," said Nat Poole. "If the owner of the ice-houses finds this out he'll make you pay for the busted slide."
"Well, I think we ought to pay for it, anyway," answered Dave, quickly. "We broke it."
"Huh! I wouldn't pay a cent unless I had to," grumbled the money-lender's son.
"What about our lanterns?" asked Roger.
"That's so!" exclaimed Ben. "They are all up in the ice-house, or down in the sawdust pit."
"We can't leave them there,—they may set fire to something," said Phil.
"We'll have to get them," decided Dave.
"Oh, but that's dangerous!" cried one of the students who had just been initiated. "Why, the slide might come down just as we were getting the lanterns!"
"Yes, and I don't want to be killed for the sake of four or five lanterns," added another.
"It's not a question of the worth of the lanterns," said Dave. "We mustn't leave them here because of the danger of fire. If we left them, and the ice-houses burnt down, we'd have a nice bill to pay!"
"Oh, don't croak so much!" growled Nat Poole. "I'm going back to school. It's cold here."
"You stay where you are, Nat!" cried Ben, catching him by the arm. "You'll go back with the rest of us, and not before."
With caution Dave, followed by Phil and Shadow, approached the ice-house, and climbed up one of the ladders nailed to the side of the building. Then they ventured out on a corner of the slide, and secured two of the lanterns.
"We'll have to go down part of the slide for that other," said the shipowner's son.
"No, don't do that, for your weight may bring the slide down," returned Dave. "I'll get a long stick and see if I can't get the lantern with that."
A stick was handy, and fixing a bent nail in the end, Dave reached down, and after a little trouble secured the lantern. Then the boys went below and secured the lanterns in the sawdust pit.
"Hi! what are you boys doing here?" demanded an unexpected voice from out of the darkness, and by the light of the lanterns the students saw a man approaching. He had a stick in one hand and an old-fashioned horse-pistol in the other.
"Who are you?" questioned Buster, as leader of the Gee Eyes.
"Who am I? I am Bill Cameron, the owner of these ice-houses, that's who I am! And I know you, in spite of them tomfoolery dresses you've got on. You're boys from Oak Hall."
"You've hit the nail on the head, Mr. Cameron!" cried Phil. "Glad to see you!" And he walked forward and held out his hand.
"Who be you?" demanded Bill Cameron, and peered at the shipowner's son curiously. "Well, I declare, if it ain't the young man as stopped the runaway hoss fer my wife! Glad to see you!" And the ice-house man shook hands cordially. "Up to some secret fun, I suppose."
"Yes, sir."
"I thought I heard a yellin' around the ice-houses, and I told my wife I'd dress and come over and see what it meant. Hope you ain't done no damage," the man continued, somewhat anxiously.
"We have done a little damage, I am afraid," answered Phil. "But we are willing to pay for it."
"What did ye do?"
In as few words as possible Phil and some of the others explained the situation. They were afraid Bill Cameron would be angry, but instead he broke into a laugh.
"Ain't it the greatest ever!" he cried. "You ain't done no damage at all. The carpenters put that wooden slide up wrong, and I told 'em they'd have to take it down, and they started to-day. That's what made them bracin's bust. The hull thing is comin' down,—so what you did don't hurt, nohow."
"I am very glad to hear that!" cried Phil, and the others said practically the same. Then they bade good-night to the ice-houses' owner, and hurried in the direction of Oak Hall.
"It's a good thing, Phil, that you knew Mr. Cameron," said Dave, on the way. "But you never told me about stopping a runaway horse for Mrs. Cameron."
"Oh, it wasn't much!" answered the shipowner's son, modestly. "It happened last June, just before we started for Star Ranch. The horse was running along the river road, and I got hold of him and stopped him, that's all. Mrs. Cameron was going to tell Doctor Clay about it, but I got her to keep quiet."
"Phil, you're a hero!" And Dave gave his chum's arm a squeeze that made Phil wince, but with pleasure.
Murphy, the monitor, was on the watch for them, and let them in by a back door. All lost no time in getting to their dormitories and in undressing and going to bed. Everybody in the crowd was satisfied over the initiations but Nat Poole. His plot to expose Dave and his chums had failed, and he was correspondingly sour.
"But I'll fix them yet," muttered the money-lender's son, to himself. "Just wait till they start to play Rockville, that's all!" And the thought of what he had in mind to do made him smile grimly.
It must be confessed that some of the football players felt rather sleepy the next morning. Dave was sleepy himself, and this alarmed him not a little.
"If we lose the game with Rockville to-day it will be our own fault," he said, to the crowd that had participated in the Gee Eyes' doings. "We should have gotten home at least an hour earlier than we did last night—or rather this morning." And then he made each player take a good rubbing down and just enough exercise to limber up his muscles.
Dave had not forgotten what had been said about Nat Poole, and directly after breakfast he called Chip Macklin to one side. As my old readers know, Chip had once been the sneak of the school, and he knew well how to hang around and take notice of what was going on.
"Chip, I've got some work for you," said Dave, in a low voice. "I may be mistaken—in fact, I hope for the honor of the school that I am. But I don't trust Nat Poole. He is down on some of us because we have gotten back on the eleven, and you'll remember how chummy he used to be with Jasniff and Merwell, who are now going to Rockville,—and with Rand and Frapley, and they are now going to the academy also. I am afraid that Nat——"
"That Nat will try to sell you out?" finished Chip, his little eyes snapping expectantly.
"Yes. He may give our signals away, or something like that."
"I see. And you want me to watch—and report, if I see anything wrong?"
"Yes."
"I'll do it. I'd like to catch him—for he never treats me decently," added Chip.
It had been decided that some of the boys should go to Rockville by boats and others by carriages and on their bicycles and motor-cycles. The eleven were to go in the school carryall, and Mr. Dodsworth and Andrew Dale were to go with them.
Owing to the change in the academy management, but little had been done to the athletic field, and when the Oak Hall club arrived, they found the grounds rather uneven and poorly marked.
"Bad for really good playing," remarked Dave.
"You'll have to be on your guard," warned Andrew Dale. "This field should have been rolled down after the last storm."
The grandstand was rather a small affair, and it speedily became filled with visitors, for the annual football game between the two schools was always a great drawing card. Flags and banners were much in evidence, and so were horns and rattles.
"I wonder if any outsiders we know are present?" remarked Roger to his chums, as they walked across the field.
"Somebody is waving from the corner of the stand," answered Phil. "I think it is Miss Rockwell."
"It is, and Miss Feversham is with her, and so is Mr. Rockwell," answered Dave, and then the boys took off their caps in salutation. And then they recognized a number of other friends.
The eleven had just turned into its dressing-room, to prepare for the game, when Chip Macklin came running in all out of breath.
"I want to see Dave!" he gasped, and then, as soon as the pair had walked to a corner, he went on: "I caught Nat."
"What doing?" demanded Dave, quickly.
"Giving all of your signals away to Merwell, Jasniff, and one of the Rockville football players. He started to tell about your trick plays when he saw me standing near, and shut up."
"Where is he now?"
"In the grandstand, with some girl."
"I will attend to this at once, Chip. Come with me."
Dave led the small student out of the dressing-room, and called Andrew Dale and Mr. Dodsworth. Quickly the situation was explained. The school teacher looked shocked, and the gymnastic instructor was disgusted.
"I will take care of Poole," said Mr. Dale, in a strained voice. "Mr. Dodsworth, you had better arrange for a change of signals."
"I will," answered the gymnastic instructor. And then Andrew Dale hurried off, and Dave returned to the dressing-room, accompanied by Mr. Dodsworth. The signals were re-arranged, and so were the signs for some of the new trick plays.
"Now then, boys, let me give you a bit of advice," said Mr. Dodsworth, when they were ready to go out on the field for practice. "From what I have heard Rockville has good staying powers, and will try to tire you out. Your move is to go at them with a jump and make your points early in the game—and then hold them down. Now do your best—and don't give in until the last whistle blows!"
"Dave, I think I see a chance of catching Rockville napping," said Roger, just before the practice began.
"You mean, if they try to take advantage of our signals?"
"Yes. If they feel sure we are going to do one thing and we do another, they'll get left."
"Well, they'll deserve to get left—if they try to profit by any such work."
"Maybe the eleven won't stand for it."
"Oh, I don't know. Rockville is hungry for a victory over us, and they may think all is fair in love and war and football," broke in Phil.
As each eleven came on the gridiron it was roundly cheered. The Rockville supporters at once commenced their well-known slogan: