CHAPTER XV—A BOXING MATCHThat afternoon, the Yale lads were invited down to the combined clubhouse and boathouse of the Blue Cove boys. They went along in a body, Browning having recovered sufficiently to make one of the party.The boathouse was built over the edge of the water, and a wing of it served as a clubroom. The regular eight-oar racing boat lay high and dry on her brackets, and the visitors inspected her with interest.“What do you think of her, Merriwell?” asked Kent Spencer, rather anxiously.“She’s all right,” nodded Frank. “It is plain she is a new boat, and made from an up-to-date model.”“We bought her last season. She is the first really good boat we ever owned, and that is how we happened to win the championship from Alexandria. She cost us a pretty sum, but we more than made it up on the race.”The final words were murmured into Frank’s ear, and Merriwell understood that, although betting on the races was forbidden, the Blue Cove lads had found a way to win some of the money Alexandria was so willing to stake on her crew.“Our old boat was too wide in the waist,” Spencer explained. “She could not slip through the water as easily as this one. I presume this may be improved upon, but I can’t see how.”“Nor can I,” confessed Frank. “If you do not win the race this season, it is certain the boat will not be the cause of your defeat.”Besides the large boat, there was a four-oared shell, also new and handsome. This attracted no little attention and admiration from the Yale lads.When the boats had been inspected, the visitors were invited into the clubroom, which they found comfortably furnished, with large windows, which could be opened to let the cool air sweep through the place. Everything about the place was clean and in perfect order.“It is an ideal summer clubhouse,” declared Frank, as he looked about admiringly.There were two large tables, upon which were papers and sporting magazines. About the tables were strong but cheap hardwood or rattan chairs. All around the room ran a stationary settee against the wall. On the walls were pictures, nearly all of a sporting character. There was a picture of a yacht race, besides imaginative pictures of a football match and a game of baseball. A prominent picture was that of a great single-scull rower. There were also pictures of bicycle races.One thing Frank noticed with intense satisfaction. There were no pictures of professional sports and prize fighters.“Now, fellows,” cried Jack Diamond, “what do you think of Virginia and Virginia boys?”And from the Yale crowd came a shout of:“They’re all right!”The Blue Cove boys did what they could to make the visitors comfortable, and a general jolly afternoon was spent. For amusement, Hans and Ephraim were induced to don the gloves and have a bout.“Vot you pet you don’d knocked me oudt der virst roundt in, Efy?” grinned the jolly Dutch lad. “You oxpect I peen a holy derror der cloves mit, eh?”“Gol darned ef I know anything abaout ye!” answered the Vermonter, as he stuffed his long fingers down into the gloves. “All I want is plenty of room, an’ there ain’t enough in here, b’gosh!”“Yaw, you gif me blenty uf rooms,” urged Hans. “Vy you don’d come der odder part uf der puilding indo, hey?”“That’ll suit me. Come on.”So out they went into the room where the boats were kept.“You want to look out for the slip,” said Spencer. “You might fall into the water, and——”He did not say more, for he saw Frank violently shaking his head, and tumbled to the fact that Merriwell did not want the boxers warned against the opening by which a boat could be rowed into that very room.Ephraim seemed to feel lively and belligerent as soon as he pulled on the gloves, for he pranced around Hans, making furious feints and chuckling:“Oh, jeewhiskers! ain’t this goin’ to be a reg’lar darn picnic! We’ll have heaps of fun thumpin’ an’ punchin’ each other, Dutchy.”“Yaw,” grinned Hans, but with a sudden expression of dubiousness, “it peen goin’ to be so much fun as nefer vas. Vot you pet on der game? Vot you pet you don’d lick me? I know I can let you done dot, und I pet von tollars on him. Uf you got der nerfe, you pet me dot.”“Don’t talk about betting, but come an’ see me!” cried Ephraim, still prancing about and flourishing his arms.“Oh, you peen in a pig hurry, don’d id,” cried Hans. “Vale, look avay oudt!”Then he made a rush at Ephraim, who simply straightened out one of his long arms, permitting the Dutch boy to run against his glove.With a terrific thump, Hans sat down on the floor.“Yow!” he cried. “Oxcuse me for dot! I didn’t know you vas lookin’! Uf you hurted mein nose, I didn’t meant to done id.”The witnesses laughed, and Hans got upon his feet.“Come on!” invited Ephraim. “Come right at me!”“I peen goin’ to done dot britty queek, you pets my poots!” declared Hans, as he bounced around the Yankee boy, keeping at a safe distance. “Der nexd dime you hit me, id vill pe mit you faces mein fist on. Yaw!”“Brace up to him, ye Dutch chaze!” urged Barney, who began to itch all over at the sight of anything resembling a “scrap.” “Don’t let th’ long-legged farmer be afther froightenin’ yez.”“Who vos frightened?” demanded Hans. “He don’d peen afraidt uf me. I vas goin’ to shown him a trick vot I nefer seen. Here id vas, py shimminy!”Then he made another rush at Ephraim, who thrust out his fist once more, expecting the Dutch lad to run against it. But Hans had not forgotten what happened the first time, and he dodged under Ephraim’s glove, and gave the Yankee lad a terrific thump just below the belt.With a howl, Ephraim doubled up like a jackknife, holding both hands to his abdomen and turning purple in the face.“Yah!” shouted Hans, triumphantly. “Vot you toldt me a minute ago, ain’d id? I know I peen goin’ to done dot! Oh, I vas a holy derror somedimes!”“Gol—darn—yeou!” gasped Ephraim. “Yeou hit—me—below—the—belt!”“Yaw,” nodded Hans; “you pet I done dot. I known der blace vot takes uf you der vindt oudt, und I don’d haf a latter to climb higher up mit.”Ephraim was mad. As soon as he could straighten up, he sailed into Hans in earnest, and the spectators shouted with delight at the spectacle.To the surprise of all, the fat little Dutchman proved a rather stiff antagonist for the Vermonter. It made no difference to Hans where he struck Ephraim, and he managed to duck under the Yankee lad’s wicked blows.In their excitement, the boxers did not observe that they were working toward the open slip, assisted by Frank and his friends, who pressed upon them from the opposite side.Suddenly, as he was being pressed close, Hans dodged under Ephraim’s guard and clutched the country lad about the waist. Gallup wound his long arms around Hans’ neck, and they swayed and strained in each other’s grasp.It was uncertain whether they staggered of their own accord or were given a slight push, but all at once they reeled and went over into the slip.Them was a great splash as they struck the water, and they vanished from view, still locked in each other’s arms.In a moment they came up, having broken apart.“Hellup!” squawked Hans.“Help!” howled Ephraim.They splashed about wildly, clutched each other again, and sank once more, while the boys in the boat-house screamed with laughter.“They are frightened enough to hang onto each other and drown right there,” said Frank. “We must help them out.”So Merriwell and Rattleton each secured a boathook, and as soon as possible hooked it into the clothes of the boys, who were floundering about in the water.“Pull, Harry!” Frank shouted.They were on opposite sides of the slip, and so they succeeded in dragging Hans and Ephraim apart, for all that the Dutch boy made a frantic effort to hang fast to the Vermonter.Harry had fastened into a convenient part of the Dutch lad’s trousers, while Frank had hooked onto Ephraim’s belt. The latter was pulled out easily, but the fat boy’s head and feet hung down, and Rattleton was forced to call for assistance. Fortunately, Hans’ pants were stout in that particular spot, and did not give way.When the boxers were brought out, they sat on opposite sides of the slip, water running in streams from their clothes, and stared across at each other in ludicrous disgust and rage.“Gol darn ye!” Ephraim gurgled, weakly shaking his fist at Hans. “Yeou was to blame fer that! Ef I could reach ye, I’d swat ye right plumb on the smeller, b’gosh!”“Yah!” sneered Hans, shaking his fist in turn, “uf I peen so near to you as you vos to me, I vould gif you somedings dot I vouldn’t like, und don’t you remember dot!”Then the spectators shouted with merriment once more.
CHAPTER XV—A BOXING MATCHThat afternoon, the Yale lads were invited down to the combined clubhouse and boathouse of the Blue Cove boys. They went along in a body, Browning having recovered sufficiently to make one of the party.The boathouse was built over the edge of the water, and a wing of it served as a clubroom. The regular eight-oar racing boat lay high and dry on her brackets, and the visitors inspected her with interest.“What do you think of her, Merriwell?” asked Kent Spencer, rather anxiously.“She’s all right,” nodded Frank. “It is plain she is a new boat, and made from an up-to-date model.”“We bought her last season. She is the first really good boat we ever owned, and that is how we happened to win the championship from Alexandria. She cost us a pretty sum, but we more than made it up on the race.”The final words were murmured into Frank’s ear, and Merriwell understood that, although betting on the races was forbidden, the Blue Cove lads had found a way to win some of the money Alexandria was so willing to stake on her crew.“Our old boat was too wide in the waist,” Spencer explained. “She could not slip through the water as easily as this one. I presume this may be improved upon, but I can’t see how.”“Nor can I,” confessed Frank. “If you do not win the race this season, it is certain the boat will not be the cause of your defeat.”Besides the large boat, there was a four-oared shell, also new and handsome. This attracted no little attention and admiration from the Yale lads.When the boats had been inspected, the visitors were invited into the clubroom, which they found comfortably furnished, with large windows, which could be opened to let the cool air sweep through the place. Everything about the place was clean and in perfect order.“It is an ideal summer clubhouse,” declared Frank, as he looked about admiringly.There were two large tables, upon which were papers and sporting magazines. About the tables were strong but cheap hardwood or rattan chairs. All around the room ran a stationary settee against the wall. On the walls were pictures, nearly all of a sporting character. There was a picture of a yacht race, besides imaginative pictures of a football match and a game of baseball. A prominent picture was that of a great single-scull rower. There were also pictures of bicycle races.One thing Frank noticed with intense satisfaction. There were no pictures of professional sports and prize fighters.“Now, fellows,” cried Jack Diamond, “what do you think of Virginia and Virginia boys?”And from the Yale crowd came a shout of:“They’re all right!”The Blue Cove boys did what they could to make the visitors comfortable, and a general jolly afternoon was spent. For amusement, Hans and Ephraim were induced to don the gloves and have a bout.“Vot you pet you don’d knocked me oudt der virst roundt in, Efy?” grinned the jolly Dutch lad. “You oxpect I peen a holy derror der cloves mit, eh?”“Gol darned ef I know anything abaout ye!” answered the Vermonter, as he stuffed his long fingers down into the gloves. “All I want is plenty of room, an’ there ain’t enough in here, b’gosh!”“Yaw, you gif me blenty uf rooms,” urged Hans. “Vy you don’d come der odder part uf der puilding indo, hey?”“That’ll suit me. Come on.”So out they went into the room where the boats were kept.“You want to look out for the slip,” said Spencer. “You might fall into the water, and——”He did not say more, for he saw Frank violently shaking his head, and tumbled to the fact that Merriwell did not want the boxers warned against the opening by which a boat could be rowed into that very room.Ephraim seemed to feel lively and belligerent as soon as he pulled on the gloves, for he pranced around Hans, making furious feints and chuckling:“Oh, jeewhiskers! ain’t this goin’ to be a reg’lar darn picnic! We’ll have heaps of fun thumpin’ an’ punchin’ each other, Dutchy.”“Yaw,” grinned Hans, but with a sudden expression of dubiousness, “it peen goin’ to be so much fun as nefer vas. Vot you pet on der game? Vot you pet you don’d lick me? I know I can let you done dot, und I pet von tollars on him. Uf you got der nerfe, you pet me dot.”“Don’t talk about betting, but come an’ see me!” cried Ephraim, still prancing about and flourishing his arms.“Oh, you peen in a pig hurry, don’d id,” cried Hans. “Vale, look avay oudt!”Then he made a rush at Ephraim, who simply straightened out one of his long arms, permitting the Dutch boy to run against his glove.With a terrific thump, Hans sat down on the floor.“Yow!” he cried. “Oxcuse me for dot! I didn’t know you vas lookin’! Uf you hurted mein nose, I didn’t meant to done id.”The witnesses laughed, and Hans got upon his feet.“Come on!” invited Ephraim. “Come right at me!”“I peen goin’ to done dot britty queek, you pets my poots!” declared Hans, as he bounced around the Yankee boy, keeping at a safe distance. “Der nexd dime you hit me, id vill pe mit you faces mein fist on. Yaw!”“Brace up to him, ye Dutch chaze!” urged Barney, who began to itch all over at the sight of anything resembling a “scrap.” “Don’t let th’ long-legged farmer be afther froightenin’ yez.”“Who vos frightened?” demanded Hans. “He don’d peen afraidt uf me. I vas goin’ to shown him a trick vot I nefer seen. Here id vas, py shimminy!”Then he made another rush at Ephraim, who thrust out his fist once more, expecting the Dutch lad to run against it. But Hans had not forgotten what happened the first time, and he dodged under Ephraim’s glove, and gave the Yankee lad a terrific thump just below the belt.With a howl, Ephraim doubled up like a jackknife, holding both hands to his abdomen and turning purple in the face.“Yah!” shouted Hans, triumphantly. “Vot you toldt me a minute ago, ain’d id? I know I peen goin’ to done dot! Oh, I vas a holy derror somedimes!”“Gol—darn—yeou!” gasped Ephraim. “Yeou hit—me—below—the—belt!”“Yaw,” nodded Hans; “you pet I done dot. I known der blace vot takes uf you der vindt oudt, und I don’d haf a latter to climb higher up mit.”Ephraim was mad. As soon as he could straighten up, he sailed into Hans in earnest, and the spectators shouted with delight at the spectacle.To the surprise of all, the fat little Dutchman proved a rather stiff antagonist for the Vermonter. It made no difference to Hans where he struck Ephraim, and he managed to duck under the Yankee lad’s wicked blows.In their excitement, the boxers did not observe that they were working toward the open slip, assisted by Frank and his friends, who pressed upon them from the opposite side.Suddenly, as he was being pressed close, Hans dodged under Ephraim’s guard and clutched the country lad about the waist. Gallup wound his long arms around Hans’ neck, and they swayed and strained in each other’s grasp.It was uncertain whether they staggered of their own accord or were given a slight push, but all at once they reeled and went over into the slip.Them was a great splash as they struck the water, and they vanished from view, still locked in each other’s arms.In a moment they came up, having broken apart.“Hellup!” squawked Hans.“Help!” howled Ephraim.They splashed about wildly, clutched each other again, and sank once more, while the boys in the boat-house screamed with laughter.“They are frightened enough to hang onto each other and drown right there,” said Frank. “We must help them out.”So Merriwell and Rattleton each secured a boathook, and as soon as possible hooked it into the clothes of the boys, who were floundering about in the water.“Pull, Harry!” Frank shouted.They were on opposite sides of the slip, and so they succeeded in dragging Hans and Ephraim apart, for all that the Dutch boy made a frantic effort to hang fast to the Vermonter.Harry had fastened into a convenient part of the Dutch lad’s trousers, while Frank had hooked onto Ephraim’s belt. The latter was pulled out easily, but the fat boy’s head and feet hung down, and Rattleton was forced to call for assistance. Fortunately, Hans’ pants were stout in that particular spot, and did not give way.When the boxers were brought out, they sat on opposite sides of the slip, water running in streams from their clothes, and stared across at each other in ludicrous disgust and rage.“Gol darn ye!” Ephraim gurgled, weakly shaking his fist at Hans. “Yeou was to blame fer that! Ef I could reach ye, I’d swat ye right plumb on the smeller, b’gosh!”“Yah!” sneered Hans, shaking his fist in turn, “uf I peen so near to you as you vos to me, I vould gif you somedings dot I vouldn’t like, und don’t you remember dot!”Then the spectators shouted with merriment once more.
That afternoon, the Yale lads were invited down to the combined clubhouse and boathouse of the Blue Cove boys. They went along in a body, Browning having recovered sufficiently to make one of the party.
The boathouse was built over the edge of the water, and a wing of it served as a clubroom. The regular eight-oar racing boat lay high and dry on her brackets, and the visitors inspected her with interest.
“What do you think of her, Merriwell?” asked Kent Spencer, rather anxiously.
“She’s all right,” nodded Frank. “It is plain she is a new boat, and made from an up-to-date model.”
“We bought her last season. She is the first really good boat we ever owned, and that is how we happened to win the championship from Alexandria. She cost us a pretty sum, but we more than made it up on the race.”
The final words were murmured into Frank’s ear, and Merriwell understood that, although betting on the races was forbidden, the Blue Cove lads had found a way to win some of the money Alexandria was so willing to stake on her crew.
“Our old boat was too wide in the waist,” Spencer explained. “She could not slip through the water as easily as this one. I presume this may be improved upon, but I can’t see how.”
“Nor can I,” confessed Frank. “If you do not win the race this season, it is certain the boat will not be the cause of your defeat.”
Besides the large boat, there was a four-oared shell, also new and handsome. This attracted no little attention and admiration from the Yale lads.
When the boats had been inspected, the visitors were invited into the clubroom, which they found comfortably furnished, with large windows, which could be opened to let the cool air sweep through the place. Everything about the place was clean and in perfect order.
“It is an ideal summer clubhouse,” declared Frank, as he looked about admiringly.
There were two large tables, upon which were papers and sporting magazines. About the tables were strong but cheap hardwood or rattan chairs. All around the room ran a stationary settee against the wall. On the walls were pictures, nearly all of a sporting character. There was a picture of a yacht race, besides imaginative pictures of a football match and a game of baseball. A prominent picture was that of a great single-scull rower. There were also pictures of bicycle races.
One thing Frank noticed with intense satisfaction. There were no pictures of professional sports and prize fighters.
“Now, fellows,” cried Jack Diamond, “what do you think of Virginia and Virginia boys?”
And from the Yale crowd came a shout of:
“They’re all right!”
The Blue Cove boys did what they could to make the visitors comfortable, and a general jolly afternoon was spent. For amusement, Hans and Ephraim were induced to don the gloves and have a bout.
“Vot you pet you don’d knocked me oudt der virst roundt in, Efy?” grinned the jolly Dutch lad. “You oxpect I peen a holy derror der cloves mit, eh?”
“Gol darned ef I know anything abaout ye!” answered the Vermonter, as he stuffed his long fingers down into the gloves. “All I want is plenty of room, an’ there ain’t enough in here, b’gosh!”
“Yaw, you gif me blenty uf rooms,” urged Hans. “Vy you don’d come der odder part uf der puilding indo, hey?”
“That’ll suit me. Come on.”
So out they went into the room where the boats were kept.
“You want to look out for the slip,” said Spencer. “You might fall into the water, and——”
He did not say more, for he saw Frank violently shaking his head, and tumbled to the fact that Merriwell did not want the boxers warned against the opening by which a boat could be rowed into that very room.
Ephraim seemed to feel lively and belligerent as soon as he pulled on the gloves, for he pranced around Hans, making furious feints and chuckling:
“Oh, jeewhiskers! ain’t this goin’ to be a reg’lar darn picnic! We’ll have heaps of fun thumpin’ an’ punchin’ each other, Dutchy.”
“Yaw,” grinned Hans, but with a sudden expression of dubiousness, “it peen goin’ to be so much fun as nefer vas. Vot you pet on der game? Vot you pet you don’d lick me? I know I can let you done dot, und I pet von tollars on him. Uf you got der nerfe, you pet me dot.”
“Don’t talk about betting, but come an’ see me!” cried Ephraim, still prancing about and flourishing his arms.
“Oh, you peen in a pig hurry, don’d id,” cried Hans. “Vale, look avay oudt!”
Then he made a rush at Ephraim, who simply straightened out one of his long arms, permitting the Dutch boy to run against his glove.
With a terrific thump, Hans sat down on the floor.
“Yow!” he cried. “Oxcuse me for dot! I didn’t know you vas lookin’! Uf you hurted mein nose, I didn’t meant to done id.”
The witnesses laughed, and Hans got upon his feet.
“Come on!” invited Ephraim. “Come right at me!”
“I peen goin’ to done dot britty queek, you pets my poots!” declared Hans, as he bounced around the Yankee boy, keeping at a safe distance. “Der nexd dime you hit me, id vill pe mit you faces mein fist on. Yaw!”
“Brace up to him, ye Dutch chaze!” urged Barney, who began to itch all over at the sight of anything resembling a “scrap.” “Don’t let th’ long-legged farmer be afther froightenin’ yez.”
“Who vos frightened?” demanded Hans. “He don’d peen afraidt uf me. I vas goin’ to shown him a trick vot I nefer seen. Here id vas, py shimminy!”
Then he made another rush at Ephraim, who thrust out his fist once more, expecting the Dutch lad to run against it. But Hans had not forgotten what happened the first time, and he dodged under Ephraim’s glove, and gave the Yankee lad a terrific thump just below the belt.
With a howl, Ephraim doubled up like a jackknife, holding both hands to his abdomen and turning purple in the face.
“Yah!” shouted Hans, triumphantly. “Vot you toldt me a minute ago, ain’d id? I know I peen goin’ to done dot! Oh, I vas a holy derror somedimes!”
“Gol—darn—yeou!” gasped Ephraim. “Yeou hit—me—below—the—belt!”
“Yaw,” nodded Hans; “you pet I done dot. I known der blace vot takes uf you der vindt oudt, und I don’d haf a latter to climb higher up mit.”
Ephraim was mad. As soon as he could straighten up, he sailed into Hans in earnest, and the spectators shouted with delight at the spectacle.
To the surprise of all, the fat little Dutchman proved a rather stiff antagonist for the Vermonter. It made no difference to Hans where he struck Ephraim, and he managed to duck under the Yankee lad’s wicked blows.
In their excitement, the boxers did not observe that they were working toward the open slip, assisted by Frank and his friends, who pressed upon them from the opposite side.
Suddenly, as he was being pressed close, Hans dodged under Ephraim’s guard and clutched the country lad about the waist. Gallup wound his long arms around Hans’ neck, and they swayed and strained in each other’s grasp.
It was uncertain whether they staggered of their own accord or were given a slight push, but all at once they reeled and went over into the slip.
Them was a great splash as they struck the water, and they vanished from view, still locked in each other’s arms.
In a moment they came up, having broken apart.
“Hellup!” squawked Hans.
“Help!” howled Ephraim.
They splashed about wildly, clutched each other again, and sank once more, while the boys in the boat-house screamed with laughter.
“They are frightened enough to hang onto each other and drown right there,” said Frank. “We must help them out.”
So Merriwell and Rattleton each secured a boathook, and as soon as possible hooked it into the clothes of the boys, who were floundering about in the water.
“Pull, Harry!” Frank shouted.
They were on opposite sides of the slip, and so they succeeded in dragging Hans and Ephraim apart, for all that the Dutch boy made a frantic effort to hang fast to the Vermonter.
Harry had fastened into a convenient part of the Dutch lad’s trousers, while Frank had hooked onto Ephraim’s belt. The latter was pulled out easily, but the fat boy’s head and feet hung down, and Rattleton was forced to call for assistance. Fortunately, Hans’ pants were stout in that particular spot, and did not give way.
When the boxers were brought out, they sat on opposite sides of the slip, water running in streams from their clothes, and stared across at each other in ludicrous disgust and rage.
“Gol darn ye!” Ephraim gurgled, weakly shaking his fist at Hans. “Yeou was to blame fer that! Ef I could reach ye, I’d swat ye right plumb on the smeller, b’gosh!”
“Yah!” sneered Hans, shaking his fist in turn, “uf I peen so near to you as you vos to me, I vould gif you somedings dot I vouldn’t like, und don’t you remember dot!”
Then the spectators shouted with merriment once more.