The encounter between Chip and Jimmy on the ice that afternoon was the talk of the whole school at the supper table, and when the two boys concerned passed near each other on the way out the onlookers stepped aside fearful that something might take place there and then, but nothing happened.
In general the school sympathized with the Freshman, but Dixon wielded so much influence in the school and bullied it so unmercifully that there was not much public expression of opinion. A good many thought that if it came to a matter of collision between them with a fair field that Jimmy would be Dixon's match, for they had seen the former play football, and although he was not as big as Dixon they knew how sturdy he was, and how determined he would probably be in a fight.
Jimmy, although he knew in his heart that the matter would have to be settled between them before his school life was over, was very docile, and when Frank said that evening: "Jimmy, I don't want you to get into any scraps about me. I'd much rather take another cut eye from Chip, although I don't relish it a bit, than to have you get into trouble or get scrapping with anyone on my account. I wanted to go for Dixon myself this afternoon, but you know what the school rules are about it—suspension or possible dismissal."
"All right, boss," said Jimmy. "I'll behave, but the big chump made me mad, first taking our rink and second smashing into you when your back was turned. You'll have to admit that he got what he deserved. I noticed that his eye was good and black where he came in contact with the ice when I tripped him that time he rushed me."
"Just like mine," said Frank, laughing. Frank's eye, too, had a fine, dark tint underneath, and with a piece of sticking plaster over his eyebrow, he looked anything but attractive.
"Anyone to see you, Frank, would think you had been playing football," observed David, "but it might have been worse."
"Yes," returned Frank, "it might have been both eyes."
"It's a better combination," laughed David, "to have one blue one and one black one; kind of gives variety to your features."
There was a knock at the door, and the Wee One strolled into the room.
"Hello, pugilists," he said to Frank and Jimmy. "Understand you are both matched for the heavyweight class. Can't I come in on the scrapping somewhere?"
"You aren't even in the featherweight class," said Gleason.
"What would you call me then?"
"O, I think about the postage-stamp class."
"Well," retorted the Wee One, "I'd be a good postage stamp, for I don't remember that I've been licked yet."
"Old, very old," said Gleason. "I think I have the record of that here," and he pretended to search through his notebook. "Yes, here it is—'postage-stamp joke, first to be taken in out of the wet by Noah's secretary, who had the job of collecting all the old jokes. Said to have first been uttered by Adam.'"
"Well, it's a good easy joke to understand; itisn't like the ones you get off, Gleason. Yours need a chart with them," retorted the Wee One.
"We're going to have some big doings at the rink to-morrow afternoon, will you come down and referee, Patty?" said Frank.
"Sure I'll come, and I'm the dandy little referee. Refereed for years at the St. Nicholas Rink. Yale, Princeton and Harvard cried for me, and once I was in the hospital, and they wouldn't play the game."
"It's a fine thing to have a reputation," said Jimmy.
"Much better to have an imagination like the Wee One's, though," said David.
"What are the doings?" inquired the referee. "Are you going to take on Chip's bunch?"
"Not on the picture of the Sacred Cow. We are going to play with gentlemen—that is, we are going to have a game with ourselves. Since there will be no more scrapping you will be safe. We will promise not to speak even an unkind word to you," said Frank.
"And I'll be down to keep the record of all the perfectly lovely tallies," said Gleason.
"You will not need to bring a large book. Lewis is goal-tender, and he's so fat that the onlyway to score is to throw the puck right through him, and he's so thick that that is about impossible."
After more chaff and banter the Wee One got up.
"I must be going," he said. "I'm tired as a whole family of dogs, and I'm going to sleep without bothering my head about that algebra which comes to-morrow morning. If you hear any loud sounds pretty soon you'll not be alarmed, but know that it's your happy referee preparing for to-morrow's fracas. My room-mate's home for a few days, so I'll have the place all to myself. Good night."
"Good night," echoed the boys. Jimmy took his departure a few minutes later, and Frank, being tired from the exercise of the afternoon, turned in. David followed as he always followed Frank in everything. Gleason sat pegging away at some obstreperous lesson, and then he, too, with a prodigious yawn, slammed his book shut, and went to his own chamber. Darkness settled upon the old dormitory, and the boys slept.
Frank was dreaming that he was in the middle of a most exciting hockey game. The puck was flying hither and thither, and the spectators wereyelling like mad. Suddenly he woke to the realization that there was a yelling, but that it came from the outside, and not from the dream spectators. He sat up in bed and listened. There was a clattering in the entry, a confused sound of voices outside, and then the chapel bell began to ring wildly. What did it all mean? David was also awake now and staring. Suddenly through all the noise outside rose the clear cry:
"Fire! fire! fire!" The terrible cry in the middle of the night brought Frank out of bed standing. He pulled David to his feet, helped him on with a few scanty clothes, and was picking up more clothes, when one of the teachers burst into the room.
"Warren is on fire," he yelled; "hurry up. Fire in the next entry."
Frank and David lost no time in getting down to the ground where they found half of the school already assembled, watching the smoke rolling from the entry windows. No one knew how the fire had started, but the night watchman of the school on making his rounds had smelled smoke, and on investigation located it in the first entry. Quick action by the watchman had raised the alarm, and the boys all over the dormitory wereflying from their beds as Frank and David and Gleason had flown. They gathered outside to watch the progress of the flames.
There was a hasty count of noses by Mr. Parks. "Thank heaven, they are all out!" he exclaimed. And it was well, for the smoke was now beginning to roll threateningly from the upper windows of the entry, and now and then a little glint of flames showed where the fire was gaining headway. Across the yard came rattling the volunteer fire apparatus manned by some of the bigger boys and the teachers. Queen's had always boasted a fire department, but there never had been a real test of it, and now that the test had come they seemed terribly slow in getting the hose attached to the hydrant which was fed from the reservoir upon the hill.
All of a sudden, Frank began to look for the Wee One. A terrible thought came to him that he might still be in his room. "Where is Patterson?" he cried frantically, hoping to hear an answer from the Wee One from some safe position on the ground, but there was no answer. It was with a white face that he turned to Mr. Parks, and said: "Patterson must be in his room; he's not down here."
"He couldn't sleep through all this noise, surely not," said Mr. Parks.
"He was in my room last night, and said he was very tired and would sleep sound. O, he must be there and we must save him." He rushed to the doorway up which some of the volunteers were trying to carry the hose, but he was forced back by a dense cloud of black smoke which whirled down the stairway. The stairway was evidently on fire somewhere up above.
"Come round to the end of Warren," yelled Frank. "One of Patterson's bedroom windows is on the end of the building." A score of boys, hearing his words, tore around to the end of the building, but the Wee One's room was dark.
Frank turned his gaze on the ground, and good fortune favored him when he saw a lump of frozen turf which lay by the edge of the walk. He picked it up, and with a throw as accurate as if he were sending a ball over the plate, he sent the lump of earth smashing through Patterson's bedroom window. The signal was effective. In a moment a white-clad figure appeared at the window.
"What's the matter?" it yelled. "What are you throwing rocks through my window for?" The tone was highly indignant.
"The dormitory is afire," yelled the voices below. The white-robed figure left the bedroom window only to return in a moment.
"The study is full of smoke," shouted the Wee One from his lofty position. "Someone get a ladder. I'll have to come down this way." He was hanging over the window sill, and leaning far out so he could make his voice heard. "It's getting mighty hot here; the fire seems to be in the entry outside my door, but I've got my door between the bedroom here and the study shut. Won't some one hurry with a ladder?"
"Hurray, here comes the ladder," the crowd shouted as two fellows came running with the ladder on their shoulders. All hands gave assistance to planting the ladder firmly, and swung it end up toward the window. The Wee One had slipped up the lower sash, and was climbing out on the narrow ledge, making ready to escape.
"It is too short," cried the crowd below in horror. It was true! The top of the ladder did not reach the ledge, where the Wee One maintainedwith difficulty his slender footing, by at least five feet.
"Lift it up," cried some one, and a dozen eager hands seized the ladder and pushed its end closer to Patterson, who began to kneel down so that he could put his feet on the top round when it reached him; but just as he was feeling for it the ladder, held on its foundation of insecure human muscle, swayed, slipped, and went crashing to the ground where one of its sides snapped like a pipe-stem.
When the spectators saw what had happened, a murmur of horror passed their lips. There seemed nothing now but death for the boy who clung desperately to the window thirty feet above them. There was no other ladder, and apparently no human help. By this time the fire had eaten a hole in the roof, and was shooting merrily through, lighting the whole place up with a bright glare. Evidently, too, it had eaten through the door of Patterson's study, for little puffs of smoke began to appear at the end windows of the study, and a glare filled the room.
The Wee One begged piteously for help, and then, turning, looked into the room he had justleft. Then he turned his face to the ground, and made a movement as if to jump.
"Don't jump, don't jump, don't jump!" yelled the crowd in chorus. "Here's a rope for you." Mr. Parks now appeared with a coil of stout rope and threw it with all his might at the window. It didn't quite carry up to it. Frantically he snatched it up again and threw. This time the unwinding end dropped across the window sill, hung a moment and slipped back before Patterson could grasp it. Mr. Parks tried again, but this time failed to get the rope near the window.
"Let me have it," said a calm voice at his elbow. "Let me try." It was David. All looked at him in open-mouthed astonishment. "I can't throw it, I'll carry it."
"How?"
David pointed to the great woodbine vine which, with its stout stem, crept over the whole end of the building. It had been planted many years before. Unmolested its tendrils had shot their way into the crevices between the bricks, making a kind of lattice work. "There's a chance," he said, "and I'll try. It's the only wayto save him. Quick, tie the rope around me and help me to the wall."
Willing fingers knotted the rope around his waist, and bore him to the wall, the crutches dropping from his hands. They pushed him up the wall as far as they could, and then let go. Up that mat of woodbine vine David went like a monkey, the tail of rope dangling out behind. Where the growth was large he seemed to have no difficulty, but as he advanced there was less grip for his hands, and once he stopped ten feet below the window where the Wee One was hanging.
"He can't make it, he can't make it," moaned the crowd.
But the little hero is only momentarily balked. Holding his weight with one hand, he tears loose a section of the vine to get a better grip, drives his bleeding fingers in between the vine and the bricks, and goes on. Now he is only a few feet below the ledge. Now he has reached it, thrown a hand over it, and climbed onto it. The crowd below are as still as death, but David works with a coolness worthy of the trained fireman. They can even see him smile a little at the Wee One, evidently encouraging him. Then he has slippedinto the room, made a hitch securely to the bed leg, which is near the window, and handed the Wee One the rope.
There is not a whisper as the Wee One takes it, gets a coil of the rope around his arm and another around his leg, and begins to slide. Below someone is holding the rope out from the wall so he will not tear himself on the bricks and vines, and almost before it is realized he is standing on the ground beside them, safe and sound, excepting a few bruises where he came in too close contact with the wall.
And now over the window ledge slides David. He is at home on a rope, thanks to his practice in the gymnasium, and it is but a small trick for him to slip down its length. And what a cheer bursts from the crowd as he is grasped in the arms of his friends! He is carried bodily, like a baby, by half a dozen fellows to one of the Senior apartments over in Honeywell Hall, where the Wee One has already been taken, and the school, forgetting the fire in the wonderful act of bravery, follows at his heels, shouting his name.
In an hour it was all over. The volunteers forced their way up the stairs, got to the firewhich had originated in the air shaft, and succeeded in dampening it with water and chemicals so thoroughly that it was soon under control. Patterson's room was pretty badly burned out, and the roof at that point was burned off. But no lives were lost, thanks to David.
"They are making a great deal of fuss about nothing," said David, the day after the fire. "I'm sure it wasn't half as hard as it would have been to climb a rope that distance. The vines gave me a great grip."
David and Frank had just come across the yard from luncheon, and everywhere they were greeted with friendly nods from the members of all classes.
"That lame fellow is the one who saved Patterson last night," spoken in low tones, was frequently heard as the two went along. In the class-room, the boys and the teachers themselves applauded David's action until he felt like running away and hiding.
"I did nothing much anyway," he would say, blushing.
That morning old Doctor Hobart sent for David, and David was embarrassed by his praise.
"You did a fine thing, young man, a noble thing. We will not forget it. You do not look strong enough to perform the feat. I myself saw you when you were half way up the wall. I'm not sure I should have allowed you to go up had I seen you when you began your attempt. Where did you get that strength, for it must have taken a great deal?" and the old gentleman bent forward in his chair and scrutinized kindly the slender boy.
"I wanted to be able to do something for the school besides my lessons and the only thing I could do was something for my hands and arms. I've been working mornings at the gymnasium, rope climbing and taking exercise on the parallel bars."
"O, I see," said the Doctor. "Well, the good Lord just brought you here. It is most fortunate that you had developed yourself as you did, for I doubt if anyone else could have had the strength, to say nothing of the courage, to do it."
"But he was my friend, and I had to do it when the ladder broke."
"Well, it was a brave thing and we will remember it. I will take pleasure in giving thefacts of your action to your father, Colonel Powers."
The only one who did not credit David with anything extraordinary was Dixon. He made light of the whole thing.
"No wonder he could climb, he has no legs to speak of. Patterson wouldn't have jumped or fallen anyway." This argument was meant to end it, but although he was with his cronies, he had not much support in this view.
The fire and rescue were the talk of the school for several days, but the ice was good and the river sports took the attention of the active-minded boys, much to David's rejoicing. Afternoons were devoted to hockey, racing, fancy skating and just plain skating.
Warwick had sent down her best seven with Channing at its head, and challenged Dixon's team to a game. A temporary rink of boards was hastily put up with the assistance of the school carpenter. Posts were let through the ice and firmly driven into the mud at intervals of every eight feet, and on these were nailed boards to the height of nearly three feet. The boards made a firm barrier for the puck. Dixon and his team-mates had practiced every minute, but when thetest with Warwick came the latter wily individuals carried away the honors.
It was a sharp game, but the team work which had been shown in the football game the previous month was again apparent in the game on the ice, and it bore down all obstacles. And Dixon's team was not really as strong in opposing Warwick as in football. They were not together. Twice, by sheer force and rough tactics, they got the puck past the Warwick goal-tender, but this was all. Warwick scored seven times by pretty passing and elusive dodging. As the game began to go against Queen's the latter tried rougher and rougher tactics, but they only opened their defence more and more, and Warwick piled up the tallies.
"Is that the best hockey team you can get in Queen's?" asked a Warwick boy who was watching the game. "We have at least three teams that could take that aggregation into camp."
The Wee One, who was standing with Frank, Jimmy and a group of Freshmen just at that point, answered him: "No, we have at least half a dozen that could trim it."
"Well, why on earth don't you have them play? Those fellows, with the exception of your leftforward, and Dixon there, can hardly stand on their skates, let alone play the game of hockey."
"You see the captain has lots of friends, and he plays whoever he wants to on his team. The good players don't happen to be friends of his, so they don't play. See the point?"
The Wee One had recovered from his scare at the fire, and while he had been very friendly with Frank and David from the very first, he was with them most of the time now. He hadn't said much to David, but his eyes spoke volumes of regard and affection for his rescuer.
"Well," said the Warwick boy, "it's no fun to win a game like that. Since hockey is a closed sport to the best players down here, I'm going to try to get Channing to challenge Queen's to a series of races before this good ice gets away from us or a big snow storm comes on. Dixon couldn't keep the good skaters out of such races, could he?"
"No," said the Wee One, "not if the challenge came to all the school. He probably wouldn't go into it at all since he couldn't run it."
"Good—then I'll get after Channing. The way to do it would be to have tryouts in both schools and let the fastest skaters meet."
The boys agreed that it would be a great plan, and promised their aid.
"You'll enter, won't you, Jimmy, and you, Frank?" said Patterson.
"Sure," was the answer.
"Get Channing to send a challenge to the whole school," continued Patterson. "Have him send it to Mr. Parks, who is a friend of the school athletics and always willing to help."
The hockey game had ended by this time, and the triumphant Warwickites went back up the river shouting a song of victory which did not strike pleasantly on the ears of the defeated Queen's team. It had been customary for the teams to cheer each other, but Dixon and his players had climbed out of the rink without a word, taken off their skates and gone sullenly to the gymnasium.
True to his word, the Warwick boy, who had proposed the ice carnival on the afternoon of the hockey game, took the matter to Channing, and that young man was eager for it.
"We've beaten Queen's in baseball this year, football and hockey, and we'd beat them if they had basket-ball, and we'll clean them up on theice races. We can beat them at anything from tiddle-de-winks up to throwing the javelin. They have a society down there which runs athletics, and until they get over that disease the best fellows in the school are not allowed to play. That hockey game this afternoon was a joke."
Channing got to work at once and spread the proposed plan about Warwick. It was eagerly taken up, and the result was the following challenge in the morning's mail:
"To Queen's School:"Warwick School challenges you to a series of ice races on the Wampaug river on Saturday of this week. We propose a half-mile race, a hundred-yard race, and a mile race,—all to be skated straightaway, without turns—each school to hold its trials and present only its best skaters in these events. The racing to be open to everyone in each school, and the entrants are to be chosen only on merit."(Signed)Robert Channing,"For Warwick School."
"To Queen's School:
"Warwick School challenges you to a series of ice races on the Wampaug river on Saturday of this week. We propose a half-mile race, a hundred-yard race, and a mile race,—all to be skated straightaway, without turns—each school to hold its trials and present only its best skaters in these events. The racing to be open to everyone in each school, and the entrants are to be chosen only on merit.
"(Signed)Robert Channing,
"For Warwick School."
Mr. Parks, thoroughly in sympathy with anything which was in the nature of a good, clean contest, particularly when it was on such a broad basis, was heartily in favor of the movement for a competition, and posted the letter conspicuouslyon the bulletin board in the gymnasium vestibule.
The letter attracted much attention, and every boy in Queen's who could skate, or thought he could, entered his name on a long sheet of paper which Mr. Parks put there for that purpose. Of course, Frank, Jimmy and Lewis were entered. Their names were among the first to go down in their class.
On the shining ice just below Queen's a measured course was laid off by Mr. Parks, and the boys who intended to skate did their practising there. The course for the contest was to be laid equi-distant from each school so that there would be no favor to either, and where the ice was not so much cut up as it was near the schools.
That evening Jimmy and Lewis dropped into Frank's room to talk it over. They had all been out on the ice trying the various distances. Lewis thought his distance was the hundred yards.
"All you have to do in that," he said, "is to take one big breath and let 'er go. I think I made the best time over that distance."
"You did like fun," said Jimmy. "You were half way down the course when I started and Ipassed you before we got to the finish. If Channing had suggested a ten-yard dash, I'd have bet on you, Lewis. As it is, I don't think you'll do better than tenth in the hundred."
"I wish I had a decent pair of skates," said Frank. "These old ones of mine are too small for me, and when I get to going fast they don't run well. I guess it's because they haven't enough bearing surface on the ice."
"What are you going to enter, Frank?" asked David.
"Seems to me," said Frank, "that the half mile is my best distance. I can't get going in the hundred. Jimmy goes the hundred like a breeze. And the whole mile is too much for me. If I had a longer pair of skates I could do better, but there's no time to get any so I'll have to do with these."
"Wheeler has entered in the half mile, I see," said Jimmy, "and he's a terror. Not particularly graceful, but he's as strong as a bull. Have you noticed that Dixon hasn't entered any of the races?"
"I was looking for his name, but it isn't on the list. Just the same, he was out practising this afternoon."
"I didn't see him," said Frank. "What was he working at?"
"The half mile," said Lewis. "He didn't come out till after you left the ice, and I think he's down there now. I met him and some of his cronies when I was coming over here, and they had their skates. I think he's after your scalp. And he's mighty fast on his skates, too."
"Well, I wouldn't be afraid of him the least little bit if I had skates that fitted me. Maybe I can borrow a pair, but it's not likely, as every one who can stand on skates will be out on the day of the races. I'll do the best I can with what I've got. But maybe he won't enter since he can't run it to suit himself. Mr. Parks, you know, has taken charge of the whole thing, and he, with a Warwick School teacher, is going to be judge at the finish line."
"That sounds good to me," said Jimmy; "there will be no monkey business about it now. It will be a fair race and no favors to anyone, and the fastest wins. I sent my skates to the grinder to-day, and they are as sharp as a razor—too sharp for the best skating. I'll have to take the edge off a little with emery cloth. When they're too sharp they grab the ice too hard, and don't slip easily."
On Thursday came the trial for Queen's School. Mr. Parks was in charge, and saw to it that everything was fair and square. Ten boys lined up for the hundred yards. At half the distance four went out in front. Jimmy was second and going well. Hillard, of the eleven, led by a yard or two, but coming to the very end Jimmy put on a great burst of speed and overhauled him. The two crossed the mark together, breast and breast. A fellow named Robbins was third. The other seven were strung along over a distance of ten or fifteen yards. Lewis was last. He crossed, grumbling because his "old skate" was loose.
"If it hadn't been for that I'd been second at least," he told Jimmy, as they skated back to the starting line. Lewis always had excuses, and most of the time he believed them himself.
Next came the half mile race, which brought out seven fellows, among them Frank. Just as the skaters were getting set for the start, Chip Dixon glided over to Mr. Parks. "I've entered," he said, "and want to start."
"When did you enter?" said Mr. Parks. "I didn't notice your name."
"I put my name down this afternoon; didn't think I could skate till just now because I had a bad knee where a puck hit me."
Mr. Parks looked undecided. He did not like Dixon, and was convinced that he had held off till the last moment deliberately so as to spring himself as something of a surprise, and maybe gain some advantage in it. So he turned to the row of skaters, who were standing on the mark and put the question to them:
"Are you willing he should enter the race, boys?"
Chip's unpopularity showed itself in the hesitation of the fellows in speaking up. They shuffled from one foot to the other. Finally Frank spoke up:
"I have no objection. I'd like to have him in."
It was a challenge to Chip, and Chip knew it, for he shot a quick glance at Frank and his black eyes snapped. The others now agreed, following Frank's lead, and Mr. Parks ordered Dixon into line. He jumped into place and at a signal they were off. It was something of a rush at first as the fellows were a little too close together.
Whether it was accident or not, Dixon jostledthe fellow next to him, who, in turn, got in Frank's way and almost threw him. Hoppin went down in a heap and Frank had to skate outside of him to avoid a tumble. When he was clear of Hoppin he was the tail of the bunch. But he settled down to work determinedly, and at half the distance had overhauled three of the stragglers. Dixon, Wheeler, and a lad named Tompkins were still leading, with the former well ahead of the others. Slowly Frank crept up, still reserving a little for the sprint at the end. He passed Tompkins, and was even with Wheeler a hundred yards from the finish. Then he began to put his best speed into it. He passed Wheeler, but, despite everything, he could not quite reach Chip, who shot across the finish line six feet ahead of him. As they snubbed themselves with the heels of their skates, Frank and Chip came close together and Frank caught Chip's triumphant glance which had a sneer in it as well.
"Never mind, old fellow, you get in the heat to represent the school anyway," said the Wee One to Frank a little later. "Second place is just as good as first place. That lets Dixon, you, and Wheeler in to represent Queen's in the half-mile."
"How did Chip come to get so far ahead of you? We were up at the curve waiting for you, and we thought you had surely dropped through a hole in the ice. There was nothing to it but Dixon. And then you began to come, but it was a close squeeze. What was the matter?"
"Oh, some one got in Dixon's way and Dixon ran into him and knocked him into my way, and I nearly fell over him and lost ten yards on account of it."
"I'll bet a pair of my best socks it wasn't an accident. Hoppin and Chip are great friends. I'll bet it was all cooked up to throw you."
"I don't believe it," said Frank. "He wouldn't be as mean as that. I haven't hurt him." But the Wee One held his own opinion.
The mile heat trial brought out some good racing, and Hasbrook was the victor. Connor and Day finished second and third. They were two Juniors who were not identified with any athletics, but they showed themselves capable of making a good race.
At the gymnasium, after the trials, the names of the candidates were posted prominently as follows:
100 yards—Turner, Hillard, Robbins.
Half-mile—Dixon, Wheeler, Armstrong.
Mile—Hasbrook, Connor, Day.
"And now," said the master, "I have a little announcement to make. I have just sent this information to Warwick, also. You will be pleased to learn that there are to be three very handsome cups for the winners of these three events. They are to be suitably engraved and awarded after the races. I assure you they are very handsome trophies, and the winners will not only bring honor to the school, but will have something to remember the event by. The giver of the cups is our young friend, David Powers."
There was a spontaneous cheer for David, and all turned to look for the individual just named, but he had beaten a hasty retreat when Mr. Parks began his remarks, and was even now cutting for his room as fast as he could go.
In Frank's room that night there was a conference. The Wee One was giving his advice about how a skating race should be won. It was his notion that one should lay back of the leader, let him cut out the pace, and then beat him out just before the finish.
"I don't agree with you at all," cried Jimmy. "In the hundred anyway, you can't lay behind. You have to dig in for everything that's in you right from the start. I'm going to plan to go as fast as I can all the time, and get going as fast as I can as soon as I can."
"And I guess in my race I can't do much laying back either," said Frank. "Channing is entered in that half-mile for Warwick, and he has a long, powerful stroke. I was noticing him the other day. He goes like a breeze, and never seems to tire. And then there's Chip. I don't think I can beat either one of them. No, Mr.Patterson, I'm going to skate for all I'm worth all of the time, like Jimmy. If I only had a pair of skates that fitted me I'd have a better chance, but as it is, I'm afraid if Queen's wins, Chip will have to do it, for Robbins isn't fast enough to get away with Channing."
"Well, I'd rather see Warwick win than Chip," said the Wee One vindictively. "I'm going to pin my colors on you, Frank, and you've got the speed if you can last the distance out."
"I'll do the best I can," said Frank, "and if I can beat Dixon I'll be thankful, because he has stepped on me every time he got a chance since I came. And it's natural that I should want to get back at him somehow."
"Why didn't you get a pair of skates to fit you, anyway?" said the Wee One.
"Well, in the first place I didn't have the time, and in the second place I didn't have the price. The kind I want are those Ruddock skates, those long, thin, light ones with plates that screw to the soles of your shoes. Both of them put together would only weigh half a pound. And they cost money, my son," added Frank. "I'll have six pairs when I'm a millionaire. I'll have to do for Freshman year on my old Christmaspresent of two years ago. Now I'm going to ask you fellows to skip. I've got a lesson to prepare, and I'm going to get a good, big sleep to-night and then another good, big one to-morrow night and then I'll be ready for the fray."
"All right, Mr. Athlete," said the Wee One. "That means, Jimmy, that we are chucked out. Good night."
Frank was early in bed for he was determined to put all the chances there were in his favor. He slept like a top and was only aroused by David who was up uncommonly early.
"Going to take a little walk," said David; "it's early yet. See you later."
Frank was not through his ablutions when there was a knock at the door, and a messenger appeared with an express package. It was done up in stiff, grey paper, and inside the outer wrapping was another, and inside that an oblong paper box. When he got down to the box and opened it there lay a beautiful pair of Ruddock skates with long, thin, straight blades, the very things he had been wishing for. Inside was a card and on the card in script the name:
"Mr. John R. Powers."
"This is David's work I'll bet a dollar, and that's the reason he dug out of here so early. He knew they were coming."
There were tears of pleasure in his eyes as he tried the new skates on his shoes. They were just the thing in every way.
"What a bully fellow David was to think of such a thing"; and then at the thought of what he might do with them, his heart jumped—"They may give me a better chance to win," he whispered to himself.
Frank saw nothing of David till afternoon, for the latter had succeeded in dodging him, but finally he was cornered, and pleaded guilty to telephoning to his father the day the carnival was decided upon.
"I knew you couldn't do your best with the old, short things you had, and, oh, Frank, I want to see you win this race. Try them this afternoon and see how you like them."
"I can't help but like them," said Frank. "It was awfully good of you to do it, David. If I can't win with these I ought to be sent back to kindergarten."
And Frank did try them that afternoon, and they were all he could desire. The lightness wasa relief to his feet after the heavier old skates, and the way he went over the course made the fellows who happened to be on the river, open their eyes in astonishment. Chip Dixon was one of these, and he noted the flash of the new skates and Frank's increased speed. But Frank had no time to give to Chip's envious eyes. He skated back leisurely up the course, tried a few starts and then swung into a steady stroke down over the course again. Every one along the half-mile was watching as he flashed past, going at great speed, and heads went wagging wisely.
"Armstrong for my money," said one of the boys. "He goes like a bird."
Frank finished the half, sat down on the float, removed the skates and headed for his room. Remembering, however, that he wanted some books, he changed his course and entered the library. He laid the precious skates down on a bench in one of the little alleys of the library, the better to continue the search. He may have been five or ten minutes at the work in hand, but he found the books he wanted and turned to pick up his skates. They were gone!
Frank dived frantically into the other alleys where he had been and looked everywhere. Theywere nowhere to be seen. He went to the desk and asked the librarian seated there, if he had seen "a paper box, so long, right over there." The assistants were called and questioned, but none of them had seen any such thing. There had been a dozen boys or more in the library, and they were coming and going, but neither the librarian nor the attendants had seen the missing package. Frank was heart-broken.
"Some one has picked them up by mistake, or perhaps Jimmy or Lewis took them as a joke and they'll be at my room when I go there."
But the skates were not at his room. Jimmy and Lewis were hunted up, but neither of them had been near the library.
"Was Dixon around," inquired Jimmy, "when you were at the library?"
"You're always thinking of him," said Frank. "I don't believe he's half as bad as you try to make him out. No, I didn't see him there, but I did see him on the ice and he saw the skates, for I saw him stop and look at them."
"Well, you can bet he knows something about them."
"I don't believe it," said Frank. "He couldn't be so contemptible."
At supper Frank confided his loss to David.
"I've got no luck at all. I shouldn't have let them leave my hands," said Frank in a passion of regret. "Serves me right."
"It is too bad, that's a fact," returned David. "But you must not blame yourself. It might have happened to any one. You couldn't keep them on your feet nor in your hands all the time. Don't worry about them. They may turn up, and if they don't you'll win anyway."
But Frank was inconsolable. He picked the old skates up from the corner where he had thrown them. They were as heavy as lead. He threw them down again almost discouraged, and all of David's cheerful words seemed to give him no help. He retired early, but had a bad night of it, dreaming that he was left far behind and that the crowd which watched him in the race yelled and jeered at him when he crossed the line minutes after the winner.
He felt better next morning, and still better when at about ten o'clock a big grey motor car rolled through the Queen's gate and set down at the head of the yard none other than his father and mother and Colonel Powers who had come up for the day. The Colonel had run up fromNew York in his big six-cylinder "Crescent," and had stopped long enough at Milton to pick up the Armstrong family. Perhaps the parents only happened there on that day, but perhaps David's letter had something to do with it. Anyway, there they were. There was a reception in Frank's room, and during it the loss of the skates came out.
"They may turn up yet," said Colonel Powers, "but perhaps it won't make such a difference as you think."
In spite of the loss it was a jolly party which sat down at the guest table in the dining-room that noon. The term was nearly over, and it had been one full of interest and some satisfaction. Frank and Jimmy had to tell in minute detail of David's great climb to save the Wee One, who was later brought around to the table and introduced to the visitors, and he, too, added his word of praise for David who was well-nigh bursting with embarrassment. He had thought that everyone had forgotten about the incident as he himself had almost forgotten. After the meal was over the guests had to see the burned end of Warren which was now undergoing repairs.
In the course of the inspection David somehowevaded the party, and when they reached Frank's room again David was not with them.
"Where is David?" Frank inquired.
"He was with us a minute ago," said Mr. Armstrong.
"Just dropped out of the procession," said Colonel Powers. "He's a little shy and did not relish being talked about, I guess. He said he was going down to see Henry, the driver of the car. They are great cronies. He may have gone for a little ride with him."
The races were set for two o'clock and it was now one o'clock.
"I must leave you," said Frank, "and go to the gym. I'd like to know where in thunder David is. I want to have him with me. He's so comforting, you know," and he picked up the clumsy skates from the corner. "A good place to see the finish of the races is from the shore road," he told them. "The road comes very near to the river just at the course."
Then in answer to the Colonel's offer to give him a motor ride to the racing course he said: "No, thank you, I'll skate up. But I wish I knew where David was."
"Good luck to you, my boy," called out Mr.Armstrong as Frank turned to go. "Win if you can, but if you can't, it's no disgrace. I know you'll make a good fight." Mrs. Armstrong put her arm around her son's neck, and kissed him for luck, and Colonel Powers patted his shoulder kindly.
"I know you're going to win, Frank. We'll find David and bring him up in the car. Good bye."
Frank hurried to the gym where he found everything in a bustle with the men preparing for the great event. Every one was going. From the windows where he was getting into his jersey and sweater he could see a steady procession of skaters from down the river, attracted to the ice carnival between the two schools. But his heart was sad and heavy, and he felt slow and logy. He tried to shake the feeling off, but couldn't.
"I guess it's all up with me in that half mile," he thought. "I can't do anything with these things," kicking savagely at the old skates which lay on the floor.
But it was time to be going, and with Jimmy he walked to the float, strapped on his skates, and started slowly up stream. He had hardly a word to say all the way up, while Jimmy was happilycheerful, and tried to work Frank into the same frame of mind.
In ten or fifteen minutes they were at the start of the hundred yard race where they found half the school crowding close to the course, and several hundred spectators waiting around. The crowd was every moment growing larger, and Mr. Parks and several assistants from both schools were hard put to it to keep the course clear.
Soon the Warwick representatives in the different events were on the scene, and as it was approaching the hour of two, the guards skated up and down frantically calling: "Keep back, keep back, the race is going to start right away."
Frank watched it all as though from a trance. He seemed to have no life for it, and no heart for the struggle which was coming. The skates felt like lead. And just now, to make him feel worse, Chip Dixon flashed past up the course with a brand-new pair of Ruddocks on his feet, smiling and confident.
"All ready for the hundred yards race," called out Mr. Parks, who was master of ceremonies. For Queen's, Jimmy Turner, Hillard and Robbins, bareheaded and dressed in jerseys and knickerbockers with long blue socks, came to the mark, followed quickly by the Warwick trio,—Sumner, Perkins and Hallowell. The latter were easily distinguished by their gray jerseys and gray socks. They looked fit to race, and the Queen's contingent eyed them respectfully.
"Are the judges ready?" called Mr. Parks, who had decided to officiate at the start. An assistant dashed down over the course and answered affirmatively with a wave of a white handkerchief.
"All ready, boys," shouted Mr. Parks. "Start on the pistol." The six boys set themselves in their favorite attitudes for a quick start, and atthe report of the pistol, dashed off like the wind. Sumner and Turner went to the front at the first rush. Side by side they flew along, each striving for a few inches lead while on their heels came the other four bunched almost together. At the half distance it was any one's race. Jimmy had now cleared the rest of the fellows sufficiently, and was where he had a little wider space to travel. He bent his body almost at right angles to his legs, and drove ahead with all the power that was in him. Ten yards from the finish you could not have picked the winner, but in the last few feet Jimmy fairly threw himself forward and crossed a few inches ahead of his rival.
A yell which echoed far over the icy river and was thrown back by the distant woods, greeted the winner, and a crowd of Queen's fellows tore after him, patted him on the back and tried to get him on their shoulders; but in the effort some one slipped and fell and pulled all the rest down with him. Jimmy tore himself free, well pleased that he had won. He and Sumner shook hands.
"You beat me fair and square," said the latter. "No kick coming from me." They skated back side by side to the starting line where Frank hugged Jimmy delightedly.
"I knew you could do it," he said.
"Well, I'm glad I won, and I'm glad that you are more like yourself. When we started you looked like a funeral."
"I do feel better," said Frank, "now that we have one of the three, but I wonder what's keeping the folks and David. They should have been here at two o'clock."
"Clear the way, clear the way," shouted the clerks of the course, as they flew back and forth. "The mile race will start in a very few minutes. The skaters are on their way up the course now. Keep back and give them room!"
Immediately at the finish of the hundred, Mr. Parks had headed to the mark up the river, whither he had been preceded by the Queen's representatives. The half mile was being left to the last as it was considered to be the best race. It was to be the climax of the afternoon. While the crowd strained their gaze up river, the roar of a fast traveling motor car was heard.
"Here they are now," said Jimmy. "And, gee whiz, how they are coming!" The boys could see on the open road a big gray car fairly leaping toward them. Frank, even at the distance, recognized it as the one that had brought his parentsand Colonel Powers that morning. A smile lighted up his face.
"That'll help some to have David here," he said.
In a few minutes the car came to a halt on the road opposite them, and a voice called, "Frank Armstrong, oh, Frank Armstrong, you're wanted."
Frank turned and made his way through the crowd to the side of the car. Colonel Powers held a package in his hand.
"David is determined that you are to skate on Ruddock blades, Frank. When we were visiting you after luncheon, he took the car and went to Milton, searched the stores and duplicated the skates that some one stole from you."
Frank could not answer for the choking sensation in his throat, and when he looked at David the latter grinned back at him merrily.
"Get them onto your feet," he cried, "quick. You'll find the screw holes of the other ones will be just right for these. They are exact duplicates."
Frank could not answer just then, but he pulled the paper off the skates.
"And in case you didn't have any screws tofit," continued David, "I brought some screws and a screw driver. Get them on quick." Frank ran to the river bank, and in a few minutes had the new skates firmly attached to his stout shoes. Then he threw the old ones down and sprang to his feet. How good they felt, how light, how different from the other clogs! He took a spin around on them, stamped his feet, and felt himself another person, fit to fight for his life, and, better still, to fight and win. His antics were watched with interest by the occupants of the car.
Jimmy's amazement knew no bounds when he saw how Frank was shod.
"David made a record run to Milton, ransacked the town and brought these to me."
"Isn't he a brick?" said Jimmy.
"They don't make many like him, I tell you."
"Well, you look like a winner, now; your face isn't so long as it was," said Jimmy. "I'm betting on you. Did you notice Chip Dixon's skates? They are Ruddocks, and they look mightily like yours. They are brand new, too. I wonder!!"
"I can't believe it," said Frank. "He wouldn't dare do it. But I thought he grinned sarcastically when I met him this afternoon, and he sawmy old skates in my hand. But maybe we'll surprise him yet."
"Here they come, here they come," shouted the crowd. Far up the river could be seen a lot of flying arms and legs.
"Warwick's ahead."
"No, it's Queen's; can't you see the blue jerseys?"
Nearer and nearer they came. Then it was seen that two gray jerseys and a blue jersey were in the leading group, while at some distance behind, the other three plugged along. But it was plain that a gray jersey headed the first group, only a few strides ahead, but still ahead; and as the struggling skaters came flying towards the finish that gray jersey seemed to lengthen out, pulling along with it the other gray jersey.
"Warwick, Warwick, Warwick," yelled the crowd. It was Warwick indeed, and all Warwick. Two of her skaters flashed over the line first and second, and the race was ended. It was now the turn of the Warwick adherents to expend their enthusiasm on the winner, and this they did with great noise and shouting. Morgan was announced as the winner, and escorted to where histeam-mates were resting on a pile of blankets on the boards on the ice.
"It's up to you now, Frank," said Jimmy, as Mr. Parks announced to the crowd that Warwick had won. "It's now one apiece, and a tie. The half mile race will decide it.
"And you, Mr. Frank Armstrong, have got to decide that tie," added Jimmy. "You look like a winner now. Come on, I'll go a part way up. I won't go all the way because I want to see the finish. I'm going to stand about fifty yards from the finish and as you pass me I'm going to yell at the top of my lungs, GO! That will be a signal for you to put everything you have left into the business. Don't forget, put everything you have in you into these skates. I'll yell loud enough to wake the dead."
"All right," said Frank, "I'll be waiting, but I'll try to put all I have into the skates before that time. I may not be near enough up to get any benefit from your plan, but I'll be hoping." They were now half way to the start of the race, and Jimmy turned back. Dixon sculled slowly past, and his face showed surprise when he glanced at the bright new runners under Frank's feet.Frank simply nodded, and Chip coldly returned the nod.
Up at the start there was a testing of straps and skates and the tightening of belts, for on this race hung the school championship, as the six contestants well knew. Mr. Parks was very careful about the start. He told them that they must not cross-cut ahead of another skater unless they were well ahead. Such crossing, if not followed according to instructions, would constitute a foul and the one who committed it would be ruled out.
"Do you all understand?"
"Yes," came the answer.
Away down the course the crowd waited breathlessly, necks stretched and eyes straining. Suddenly the pistol's flash was seen.
"They're off," roared the crowd.
From the start of the half to the finish was practically a straight line broken only by a slight curve about one third of the way up the course, so that the skaters could be seen almost every yard of the distance.
On the racers came, the six spread across the ice in nearly a straight line. Big Channing towered above the others, a thing that could be plainly seen as the racers came sweeping along.Next to Channing was Wheeler, then Frank, while Chip had the outside course. At the half distance Channing had forged a few feet to the front, not over six or seven at the most. Chip Dixon was almost abreast with him. Frank was skating third, but was moving easily. The others were beginning to straggle back, the pace being too hot for them.
The crowd was now yelling like mad, and the names of the racers were mingled by many voices.
"Channing! Wheeler! Armstrong! Warwick! Queen's! Dixon!"
On they came, Channing holding his own a couple of yards in advance. Do his best, Frank could not catch either him or Dixon. He felt that he might go faster, but for some reason could not make his legs drive any harder. On the skaters dashed and now they were entering the lane of human beings.
True to his word, Jimmy had wormed himself through the crowd, and was stationed forty or fifty yards from the finish line. He leaned far over to get a view of the skaters, and saw with dismay that Frank was behind. As they neared him he gathered into himself a mighty breath, and as the three flashed past him, yelled "Go!"
It was so shrill a cry that the spectators jumped from the very force of it. On Frank, the yell of his friend, the signal he had been waiting for and thought would never come, was as though a spring had uncoiled inside him. At the shout he fairly sprang from the ice, and in that one leap reached Channing who, at the rush of the boy at his left, turned his head.
Another leap carried Frank even, and then something like the power of a six cylinder motor grew within him. He must, he would win for the school. They couldn't beat him! And driving his legs like pistons, he shot ahead of Channing who struggled desperately to make up the lost ground, but without avail. Frank went over the finish line fairly flying, at least two good yards ahead of his rival. Chip in his effort to follow Frank, when the rush of the latter carried him past, put too much strain on his tired muscles, stumbled and fell, and before he got to his feet and could cross the line, a Warwick skater slipped across ahead of him. He was officially counted out.
How Queen's did yell! This time they got Frank up on their shoulders and lugged him up the course for twenty-five yards or more.
"Armstrong! Armstrong! Armstrong!"
"That was some race, I tell you," was the usual greeting between any two Queen's boys who happened to be within reach of each other, and then they fell upon each other, and embraced, pounding violently on each other's backs. Over in the motor car David was swinging his cap, and even the dignified seniors—Colonel Powers and Mr. and Mrs. Armstrong—were standing up, clapping their hands and shouting applause. It was a great finish to a great day.
The term closed on the following Wednesday and it was a jolly party which rolled out of the gates of Queen's in the big gray motor car bound for Christmas vacation and home. Colonel Powers, whose business had kept him in Milton, sent Henry and the car to bring the boys to town. David was the host now and he piled Frank, Jimmy, Lewis, the Codfish and even Wee Willie Patterson into the big motor. Suit cases were tucked wherever a suit case could stick.
It was a happy crowd that gathered around the Armstrong table that night for supper, for Frank had insisted that they must all come to supper before they took their several ways homeward.And what a rumpus they made and what a chatter, and what stories of the doings at Queen's during that first term they unfolded to their elders. Mrs. Armstrong instead of being shocked at all the noise simply beamed with joy. Finally the leave-taking came and the boys parted with best wishes for the holidays and with great plans for the future at Queen's. And of that future of Frank Armstrong at Queen's you will hear in the next book of this series, entitled: Frank Armstrong's Second Term.