The three boys who had set off to find the car that had knocked down the stranger on the icy street were as mysterious the next day as they could be. At least, so their girl friends declared.
Being Sunday, there was no general gathering of the Central High girls and boys, but Laura, naturally, saw her brother early. He was coming from his shower in bathrobe and slippers when Laura looked out of her own door.
"What sort of fox-and-goose chase did Short and Long take you and Lance away on?" she demanded.
"Oh, I don't know that he was altogether foolish," said Chet doubtfully.
"Then did you really find some trace of the car?" cried Laura, eagerly.
"Well, we found a car. Yes."
"'Goodness to gracious!' as poor Lizzie Bean says. You are noncommunicative, Chetwood Belding. What do you mean--you found a car?"
"Laura," said her brother, "I don't know--nor does Lance, or Short and Long--whether the fellow we suspect had anything to do with that accident or not."
"Oh!"
"And we don't want to get him in wrong."
"Who is it?" demanded his sister, bluntly.
"No. We won't tell anybody who it is we suspect until we make further investigations."
"I declare, you are as mysterious as a regular detective! And suppose the police do make inquiries?"
"They will, of course,"
"And what will you boys tell them?"
"Pooh!" returned Chet, going on to his room to dress, "they won't ask us because they don't know we know anything about it."
"I guess you don't know much!" shouted Laura after him before he closed his door.
It was the same when Jess Morse met Lance Darby on the way to Sunday School.
"Ho, Launcelot!" she cried. "Tell us all the news--that is a good child. Who was that awful person who ran down the man last night? I hear from Dr. Agnew that they had to patch the poor victim up a good deal at the hospital. Did you boys find the guilty party?"
"I don't know that we did," said Darby. "You see, nobody seemed to see the license number of the automobile."
"But didn't Short and Long have suspicions?"
"Well, what are suspicions?" demanded the boy. "We all agreed to say nothing about it unless we have proof. And we haven't any proof--as yet."
"Why, I believe you are 'holding out' on your friends, Lance," declared Jess, in surprise. "For shame!"
"Aw, ask Chet--if you must know!" exclaimed Lance, hurrying away.
As it chanced it was Bobby Hargrew who attempted to play inquisitor with Short and Long, meeting the boy with the youngest Long, Tommy, on the slippery hill of Nugent Street Tommy was so bundled up in a "Teddy Bear" costume that he could scarcely trudge along, and he held tightly to his brother's hand.
"For goodness' sake!" exclaimed Bobby, when she saw Tommy slipping all over the icy sidewalk, "what is the matter with that boy?"
"He hasn't got his sea-legs on," grinned Short and Long.
"You mean to tell me he is nearly five years old and can walk no better thanthat?" exclaimed Bobby teasingly. "Why, we have a little dog at home that isn't even a year old yet, and he can ran right over this ice. He can walk twice as good as Tommy does."
"Hoh!" exclaimed that youngster defensively. "That dog's got twice as many legs as I have."
"Right you are, Kid!" chuckled his brother. "He got you there, Clara."
"And did you boys get that man who ran the poor fellow down on Market Street last night?" demanded Bobby, with interest. "Did you have him arrested?"
"No. What do you suppose? We're not going around snitching to the police," growled Short and Long.
"But if that man at the hospital is seriously hurt----"
"Oh, we're not sure it's the right car," said the boy, and evidently did not wish to talk about it.
"Billy Long!" exclaimed the girl. "Are you boys trying to defend the guilty person?"
"Aw----"
"Suppose that man at the hospital dies?"
"Pshaw! He wasn't hurt as bad as all that."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've been to the hospital to find out He's got a broken leg and a broken head----"
"Is he conscious yet?" demanded Bobby Hargrew quickly.
"No-o. They say he doesn't know anybody--and nobody knows who he is."
"Now you see!" cried the girl "Maybe he will die! And you boys will let the man who did it get away."
"Oh, he won't get away," grumbled Short and Long. "We know where to find him when we want to."
"You'd better let the police know where to find him," said Bobby tartly.
"You're not the police, Bobby Hargrew!" returned Short and Long, grinning and going on with Tommy.
The girls, of course, got together and compared notes and decided that the boys were "real mean, so now!" To pay Chet and Lance and Billy Long for being so secretive about the person they suspected of having caused the injury to the stranger Saturday evening, the three girls went alone that Sunday afternoon to the hospital to inquire after the injured man.
And there they met Janet Steele again. The Red Cross girl had been making inquiries, too, about the same case.
"It really is a very serious matter," Janet said to her new friends. "The man who knocked him down should be found. Although the doctors think he has no internal injuries after all, there is a compound fracture which will keep him in bed for a long time, and in addition he seems unable to give any satisfactory explanation of who he is or where he comes from."
"Goodness!" exclaimed Jess Morse. "Do you mean he has lost his mind?"
"Merely mislaid it," said Janet with a smile. "Or, at least, he cannot remember his name and address."
"Didn't he have any papers about him that explain those points?" asked Laura.
"That seems to be odd, too," said Janet "No. Not a mark on his clothing, either. But he was plentifully supplied with money, and all the bills were brand new."
"Oh!" exclaimed Laura. "That reminds me. That funny bill he passed on Chet was brand new, too. I wonder if all his money is queer?"
"What do you mean?" asked Janet, wonderingly. "Is the man a criminal, do you think?"
Laura and Jess explained about the peculiarly printed bill, which had given the first named so much trouble in making up her father's accounts the evening before.
"But that may be all explained in time," said Janet.
"All right," grumbled Bobby Hargrew. "But suppose poor Chet has to lose fifty dollars?"
"Father is going to take the bill to the bank to-morrow to see if they can explain the mystery," Laura said.
"But that will not explain the mystery of the stranger." said Jess. "Why, he is a regular 'man of mystery,' isn't he?"
"Humph!" said Bobby. "And so is the fellow the boys think ran him down. He is a man of mystery as well."
Since the whole school had taken such a tremendous interest in "the profession" at the time Central High blossomed forth in Jess Morse's play, the M.O.R.s had given several playlets, and Mrs. Case, the physical instructor, had staged folk dances and tableaux in the big hall.
For the Red Cross the association of girls connected with the Girls Branch Athletic League that had carried forward these smaller affairs, had determined to stage "a real play." Nellie Agnew, the doctor's daughter, and secretary of the club, had sent to a publisher for copies of plays that could be put on by amateurs, and interest in the affair waxed high already.
The principal point of decision was the identity of the play they were to produce. Mr. Sharp and the other members of the school faculty had agreed to let the girls act, and the big hall, or auditorium, could be used for the production. At noon on Monday the girls interested in the performance met in the principals office to decide upon the play.
"And of course," grumbled Bobby Hargrew to the Lockwood twins, Dora and Dorothy, "all the teachers have got to come and interfere. We can't do a sol-i-ta-ry thing without Gee Gee, or Miss Black, or some of them, poking their noses into it."
"You can't say that Professor Dimp pokes his nose into our affairs," laughed Dora.
"No, indeed," said her twin. "Outside of his Latin and physics he doesn't seem to have a single idea."
"Doesn't he?" scoffed Bobby. "The boys say he's gone into the dressmaking business, or something."
"What is that?" asked Dora, smiling. "What do they mean?"
"Why, the professor's niece is living with him now. He is not much used to having a woman in his sitting-room, I guess. She sits and sews with him in the evening while he reads or corrects our futile work," said Bobby, grinning.
"The other night Ellie Lingard--that's his niece--lost her scissors and she said they hunted all over the room for them. The next morning in one of the physics classes the professor opened his book, and there were the lost scissors, which he had tucked into it for a bookmark while he helped Ellie Lingard hunt for her lost property."
"Oh, oh!" laughed the twins.
"The worst of it was," continued Bobby, with an elfish grin, "Old Dimple grabbed them up and said right out loud: 'Oh, here they are, Ellie!' The boys just hooted, and poor Old Dimp was as mad as a hatter."
"The poor old man," said Dorothy commiseratingly.
It was a fact that, although Professor Dimp did not interfere in this play business, most of the other teachers desired to have their opinions considered. The girls would not have minded Mr. Sharp. Indeed, they courted his advice. But when Miss Grace Gee Carrington stood up to speak, some of them audibly groaned.
Miss Carrington was Mr. Sharp's assistant and almost in complete control of the girls of the school. At least, the girls came in contact with her much more than they did with Mr. Sharp himself.
She was a very stiff and precise woman, with an acrid temper and a sharp tongue. She had been teaching unruly girls for so many years that she was to a degree quite soured upon the world--especially that world of school which she had so much to do with.
Of late, however, Miss Carrington had become interested "quite in a human way," her girls said, in a person who had first appeared to the ken of the girls of Central High as a Gypsy girl. Margit Salgo's father, a Hungarian Gypsy musician, had married Miss Carrington's sister, much against the desire of Miss Grace Gee Carrington herself. When the orphaned Margit found her way to Centerport she made such an impression upon her aunt's heart that the latter finally took the girl into her own home and adopted her as "Margaret Carrington."
That, however, could not change Miss Carrington's nature. She was severe and (in the opinion of fly-away Bobby Hargrew) she was much inclined to interfere in the girls' affairs. On this occasion the girls were not disappointed when Miss Carrington "said her little say."
"I approve of any acceptable attempt to raise funds for such a worthy object as this we have in mind," said Miss Carrington. "An exhibition which will interest the school in general and our parents and friends likewise, meets, I am sure, with the approval of us all. Some of our young ladies, I feel quite sure, show some talent for playing, and much interest therein. Without meaning to pun, I would add that I wish they showed as great talent for work as for play."
"She could not help giving us that dig, if she were to be martyred for it," Nellie Agnew whispered to Laura.
"Sh! She'll see your lips move," warned Dora Lockwood, on the other side of the doctor's daughter. "I believe she has learned lip reading."
Miss Carrington went on quite calmly: "The first consideration, however, it seems to me, is the selection of the play. I should not wish to see the standard of Central High lowered by the acting of a play that would cater only to the amusement-loving crowd. It should be educational. We should achieve in a small way what the Greek players tried to teach--a love of beauty, of form, of some great truth that can be inculcated in this way on the public mind."
"But, Miss Carrington!" cried Bess Yeager, one of the seniors, almost interrupting the staid teacher, "we want to make money for the Red Cross. We could not get a room full with a Greek play."
"I beg Miss Yeager's pardon," said Miss Carrington stiffly. "We have our standard of education to uphold first of all."
"I hope you will excuse me, Miss Carrington," said Laura, likewise rising to object. "Our first object is to give the people something that will amuse them so that they will crowd the auditorium. Otherwise our object will not have been achieved. This is a purely money-making scheme," added the jeweler's daughter with her low, sweet laugh.
"I am amazed to hear you say so!" exclaimed the instructor, quick for argument at any time. "Have you young ladies no higher desire than to make the rabble laugh?"
"I want you to know," muttered Jess Morse, "that my mother is coming, and she isn't 'rabble.'"
Perhaps it was fortunate that Miss Carrington did not hear this comment. But she could not fail to hear some of the others made by the girls. There was earnest protest in all parts of the room. Mr. Sharp brought them to order.
"Miss Carrington has, under ordinary circumstances, made an excellent point, and I want you all to notice it," said the principal. "We are an educational institution here on the hill. If we were giving a class play, or anything like that, I should vote for Miss Carrington's idea. At such a time something primarily educational should be in order.
"But as I understand it, you young ladies are going to act for the benefit of the Red Cross fund, and what will benefit that fund the most is the drawing together of a well-paying crowd to see you act.
"I am afraid we shall have to set aside our own desires, Miss Carrington," he continued, smiling at his assistant. "We must let the actors choose their own play--as long as it is a proper one--and abide for once by the decision of those of our friends who wish to be amused rather than educated."
"He's half backing her up!" complained Dora.
"Well, he has to pour oil on the troubled waters," whispered Laura.
"Huh!" grumbled Bobby Hargrew. "But Gee Gee is determined to throw sand in the gears, not oil on the waters. She always does."
Really, Miss Carrington seemed in an interfering mood that day. Nellie had a collection of plays from which they were supposed to choose that very session the one to be acted. There was but brief time to learn the parts and the acting directions. But Mr. Mann, who had directed them in other plays, said he thought he would be able to whip the girls into shape for a performance in two weeks. Although they were amateurs, they had all had some experience.
When the girls themselves got a chance to talk it was shown that their desires were all for a parlor comedy with bright lines, some farcical turns to the plot, but a play of sufficient weight to gain the approval of sober-minded people. It was, however, far from being classic.
"Such a play is preposterous!" ejaculated Miss Carrington, breaking out again. "Don't you think so yourself, Mr. Sharp?"
The principal had the book in his hand and was skimming through some of the dialogue. If the truth was told he was on a broad grin.
"I don't know about that, Miss Carrington. It--it is really very funny."
"'Funny!'" gasped his assistant, with all the emphasis she dared show in the presence of the principal. "As though to make fun should be our target!"
"What would you like to have us play?" asked Bobby, daringly. "Julius Caesar? If we do, I want to play old Julius. He dies in the first act. The rest of us would be killed lingeringly by the audience, I know, before the last."
"Miss Hargrew!" snapped the teacher. Then she remembered that this was not a recitation and she could not easily punish the girl. She shook her head and looked offended during the remainder of the discussion.
"But you know very well," snapped Lily Pendleton, a rather overdressed girl, as they all crowded out of the schoolhouse after the meeting, "that Gee Gee will do her wickedest to spoil it all."
"Oh, no!" cried Laura. "Not when it is for the Red Cross!"
"It wouldn't matter what the object was," said Jess morosely. "She always does try to crab the game."
"Goodness, Josephine!" gasped her chum, "you are positively as slangy as Chet."
"I guess I catch it from him," admitted Jess Morse. "And she is a crab!"
"Now girls!" called Nellie, a regular Martha for trouble at the present moment. "Now girls, remember the 'sides' will be here day after tomorrow, and Mr. Mann will look us over and give out the parts that afternoon in the small hall. Nobody must be absent. We want this show to be the biggest success that ever was."
"It won't be if Gee Gee can help it," growled Bobby Hargrew, shaking her curls.
"There's one sure thing about it," Lance Darby said to Laura when she told him of the way in which Miss Carrington had tried to interfere with the girls' choice of the play, "she cannot butt into the Ice Carnival arrangements. Nobody but your Mrs. Case and our Mr. Haskins has anything to say about the Carnival Committee's arrangements."
"Oh! Indeed?" laughed Laura. "There you are mistaken about the far-reaching influence of our Miss Carrington."
"What do you mean?"
"You forget that our share of the Carnival is under the jurisdiction of the Girls Branch League, and in the constitution and by-laws of that association it is stated that none of us girls can take part in any exhibition without the consent of our teachers, and without, indeed, having a certain standing in all branches of study. Miss Carrington can get her word in right there."
"Wow, wow! That's so, I presume," admitted Lance.
"But we have gone so far now," said Laura complacently, "that I don't think even Bobby will be refused permission to join in the festivities--and Bobby is a splendid little skater, Lance."
"Bobby is all right," agreed the youth. "But here comes old Chet--and his face is as long as the moral law. He is still worried about that fifty dollars he may have to dig down into his jeans for--if your father sticks to what he said he'd do."
Chetwood had a cheerful word, however, despite his serious aspect.
"Have you seen the ice, Lance?" he demanded, brightening up.
"Not to-day, old boy."
"It's scrumptious--just!" exclaimed the big fellow. "They have been shaving it, and have got it all roped off."
"Better have somebody watch it, too, or the kids from downtown will get in there and cut it all up. Just like 'em," growled Lance.
"Don't fret. Old Godey is on guard. Trust him to keep the kids off the track," said Chet. "Is father at home, Laura?"
"He's just come in," said his sister. "Has he found out about that bank-note yet?"
"That is what I wanted to know," said the worried Chet. "I've been over to the hospital this afternoon--before I went down to the lake shore. That, chap who was hurt is off his nanny----"
"Chet! Don't let mother hear you," begged Laura, yet laughing.
"I wouldn't want the mater to be shocked," admitted Chet. "But that is exactly what is the trouble with that man who gave me the phony bill. The doctor told me the crack he got on the head had injured his brain."
"The poor man!" sighed his sister.
"What about 'poor me'?" demanded Chet indignantly. "And they say he carried a roll of brand new bills big enough to choke a cow! The doctor says he thinks the money is good, too. But he passed that hundred-dollar note on me----"
"If it is a hundred," interjected Lance.
"Now you said a forkful," grumbled Chet, shaking his head. "Let's go in and see what father has to say about it. He was going to see Mr. Monroe at the First National. They say Mr. Monroe knows all about money--knew the fellow who invented it, personally, I guess."
The young folks found Mr. Belding in the library, and he welcomed them with his customary smile when the three came in.
"The bank-note?" he repeated. "I left it for Mr. Monroe to look at. He was out of town. But he will tell me when he returns--if he knows about it. It is a curious thing. And I hope it will teach you a lesson, Chetwood."
"Sure!" grumbled Chet, "Of course, there is nothing so important in this world as learning lessons. Little thing about me being nicked fifty dollars isn't considered."
His father laughed at his rueful countenance. "Well, Son, I can't offer you much sympathy. Perhaps the Treasury Department will make it right. And how about that man who gave it to you? He can't get far with a broken leg."
"He's gone far enough already," declared Chet. "They say he has lost his memory."
"What's that?" cried Mr. Belding.
"Looks fishy, doesn't it?" said Lance. "Lots of folks who owe money lose their memories."
"No," said Chet, shaking his head. "This chap really got a hard bang on the head, and the doctors say he may never remember who he is."
"Lost his identity?" demanded Mr. Belding.
"Completely. At least, he doesn't know his name or where he came from. He remembers a part of his life, they say, for he seems to think he has been in Alaska. Asked the nurse, in fact, how long Sitka had had such a hospital as this. Thought he was in Sitka, you see."
"Why, isn't it strange?" Laura said. "The poor fellow!"
"He's not poor, I tell you," said the literal Chet.
"He's got a lot of money. But not a card, or a mark about him--not even on his clothes--to tell who he is."
"How about his hat?" questioned Lance. "And his suit? The labels, I mean."
"The hat was brand new," said Chet, "and was bought right here in Centerport. Oh, the hospital folks have been trying through the police to find out something about him. Nothing doing, they say."
"Why," said Mr. Belding thoughtfully, "there must be some way of discovering who the unfortunate is, even if he cannot remember himself."
"Who do you mean, Pa, by 'the unfortunate'?" demanded his son. "I should think I was the unfortunate. Especially if that bank-note is phony."
"But you did not get a broken leg--and a broken head--out of it," his father said dryly.
"That's all right," muttered Chet "But I am likely to have a broken pocketbook, all right all right!"
Mr. Belding was not unmindful of his son's anxiety regarding the odd bank-note that Chet had taken over the counter in the jewelry store. Besides, Laura sat herself upon the arm of his big Morris chair after dinner that Monday evening, and said:
"You know, dear Pa, Chet is a pretty good boy. And fifty dollars is much more money than he can afford to lose--all in one bunch."
"Indeed?" said her father indignantly. "And how about me? With my expensive family, do you think I can afford to lose fifty dollars? And the boy is careless."
"I deny it," said Laura briskly.
"Chet! not careless?"
"Only thoughtless."
"What is the difference?"
"Academic, or moral?" demanded Mother Wit, looking at him slyly.
"Oh, well, it doesn't pay to split hairs with you," declared her father, pinching a warm cheek until it was rosier than ever. "But what's the big idea, as Chet himself would say?"
"Why, now, Pa Belding----"
"Out with it! What do you want me to do?"
"I--I thought if you'd make Chet pay only half of the fifty dollars, that perhaps you lost----"
"Well?" he growled, in apparent indignation still.
"Why, I would pay the other twenty-five!" burst out Laura hurriedly. "Only you must promise not to tell Chet."
"What do you mean? To pay half his fine?"
"Well, you don't need to halloo so about it, Pa dear," she pouted.
"I wouldn't let you!"
"Oh, yes you would. You know it is going to be awfully hard on Chet to take that money out of the bank to pay you."
"There, there!" said Mr. Belding gruffly. "We won't talk about it--yet. Perhaps we'll find the bank-note is all right."
But he said afterward to his wife that evening: "What are we going to do with such children, Mother? You can't punish one without hurting the other right to the quick."
"We have been blessed in our children, Henry," said Mrs. Belding proudly. "And--really--Chet should not be too much blamed."
"There, there!" exclaimed her husband in a disgusted tone of voice. "You're every whit as bad as Laura."
Mr. Monroe did not return to the bank for several days; and meanwhile other important and interesting things were happening. The three boys who seemed to have secret knowledge about the accident on Market Street refused to answer the questions of their girl friends as to the identity of the car that had run the victim down.
"You are just the meanest boys!" flared out Bobby Hargrew, as they all trooped down to Lake Luna to take almost the last look at the roped-off arena before the carnival would twinkle its lights that evening at six o'clock.
"I don't know, Bobby," drawled Chet. "I believe we really could be meaner if we tried."
"No you couldn't!" snapped Clara Hargrew with finality.
"Oh, girls!" gasped Laura suddenly, "tell me what this is coming up the hill? Or am I seeing something that you folks don't?"
"Gee!" exclaimed the slangy Bobby, forgetting her indignation with Chet and the other boys. "Is it? Can it be?"
"Pretty Sweet!" ejaculated Jess, beginning to laugh. "And he is in his forest green hunting suit.Icall it his 'Robin Ridinghood' suit."
"It just matches him, all right," said Lance. "He's verdant green and so is the suit. And look how he is carrying that gun, will you?"
The gun was in its case, but the boy in question was carrying the shotgun in a most awkward manner. Without a doubt he was half afraid of it.
"And I bet he hasn't had a charge in it all the time he's been out. Who did he go with?" asked Chet.
"Some of the East Siders. They cater to him a lot, and you know," said Lance, with disgust, "tight as Purt is with money, if you flatter him you can pull his leg."
"Dear me!" murmured Laura, "it is not in your province to use such slang, Lance. Leave that to Chet and Bobby."
"Hey, Pretty!" Chet shouted to the very dandified lad, as he crossed the street toward them. "What luck, old top?"
Although when they had first seen him, Prettyman Sweet was undoubtedly footsore, he began to strut now and pride "fairly exuded from his countenance," as Jess whispered to her chum.
"Did you get any cottontails?" demanded Lance.
"Oh, a few--a few, muh boy," declared Pretty Sweet airily.
Then they saw that he had a game bag slung over his shoulder in true sportsman style.
"I did not suppose you would go out to shoot the poor, innocent little rabbits, Mr. Sweet," said Laura, with sober face but dancing eyes. "They have never done you any harm."
"I bet a real bad rabbit would make Purt run," muttered Bobby.
"Oh, Miss Belding!" said the school dandy. "You know I'm awf'ly keen on sport--awf'ly keen, doncher know. I justhaveto get a day now and then in the woods, when game is in season."
"He's as keen on it as the two Irishmen were, who went hunting for the first time," broke in Bobby. "When they sighted a bird sitting on a bush Meehan took very careful aim and prepared to fire. Said his friend, grabbing him by the arm:
"'Don't fire, Meehan! Shure an' yez haven't loaded yer gun.'
"'That's as it may be, me lad,' retorted Meehan, 'but fire I must. The bur-rd won't wait!'"
Prettyman Sweet was used to being laughed at, yet he flushed at the gibe.
"Never mind," he said. "I bring home the game, just the same."
"You 'bring home the bacon,' in other words," said Chet, approaching him. "Let's see the bunnies?"
Nothing loath, the overdressed boy opened the bag and displayed his plunder. He brought two big hares out of the bag by their ears and held them up with pride.
"Bet they were trapped," said Bobby in an undertone.
"They were not trapped!" cried Purt Sweet sharply. "See! That is where one was shot! And there is the other--see?"
"Jinks!" said Lance. "Both through the head.Younever did it, Purt?"
"I did so!" cried the huntsman angrily. "I shot them both."
Chet was looking them over closely. He shook his head.
"They have been shot all right," he said. "And you shot them over there on Cavern Island?"
"I can prove it," said Purt haughtily.
"That's all right," said Chet thoughtfully. "You may have shot them--and on Cavern Island. But whose rabbits were they before you bought them?"
"What? I--Oh!"
Bobby and Jess began to giggle. Chet grinned as he added:
"Those are Belgian hares, not rabbits, Pretty. Somebody has put something over on you. Belgian hares don't run wild in the woods of Cavern Island--that is sure."
"Bet he shot them hanging up on a fence," snapped Short and Long, who thus far had said never a word to Prettyman Sweet.
"And I know the market to-day is full of Belgian hares," chuckled Chet. "Oh, Purt! you never could pull off anything like that on us in a hundred years."
"I don't care--I--I--"
The angry Purt snatched up his game bag and marched away.
"That he's been caught in the trick puts a crimp in him," chuckled Chet Belding.
"And that isn't all that ought to happen to him," muttered Short and Long, who seemed to have become suddenly very bitter against the dandified Sweet.
"Can it, Billy, can it," advised Lance. "Give a calf rope enough and he will hang himself."
"And maybe that fellow ought to be hung," was Short and Long's further comment.
"Why, Billy!" exclaimed Laura, "what ever do you mean?"
"Yes, Short and Long," said Jess. "Why the 'orrid hobservation about poor Purt?"
Perhaps Billy Long would have blurted out something, had not another incident taken place which so excited all the young people that they forgot Purt Sweet and his foibles.
The group had reached Lakeside Avenue, which overlooked many shore estates and some private docks. This was the residential end of Centerport, and the vicinity in summer was lovely. Now the outlook on Lake Luna's sparkling surface--frozen in a sheen of ice to the shore of Cavern Island in the middle of the lake--was wonderfully attractive.
At the foot of Nugent Street, which they now reached, the girls and boys from Central High heard suddenly a great shouting and peals of laughter from up the hill. Some snow still lay on the side of Nugent Street; and the hill was a glare of ice. Down the steep descent were coming three or four heavy sleds loaded with young folks. Many of them were girls and boys of Central High.
"Some coasting!" exclaimed Chet. "I had no idea it was so good. We ought to get our bob out, Lance."
"Oh, see, Laura!" murmured Jess. "There comes Janet Steele. She must have been canvassing for Red Cross members away over here. I wish we had time to do some of that work."
The Red Cross girl appeared from around a turn in the avenue, and the instant she spied her new friends she waved her gloved hand.
"Is that the girl who gave first-aid to the man on Market Street Saturday night?" asked Chet.
"Some little queen, isn't she?" rejoined Lance, with twinkling eyes.
"Oh," said Laura placidly, "you needn't think that you can get us girls jealous about Janet Steele. She is an awfully sweet girl."
"And she isn't little at all," put in Jess, tossing her head. "She is as husky as Eve Sitz."
Before they could say more, or further hail the Red Cross girl, there was a crash and terrific rattling around the turn of the avenue. The next instant a horse appeared, madly galloping along the roadway, and drawing the shattered remains of a grocery wagon after him.
The maddened beast would, so it seemed, cross the foot of Nugent Street just as the bobsleds shot down to that point. Across the avenue was a steep bank against which the sleds were easily halted. But they could not be stopped before they crossed Lakeside Avenue!
The three boys drew Laura and her girl friends into the gateway of a residence that faced the lake. The Red Cross girl was on the other side of Nugent Street, and the runaway horse was coming along the avenue behind her.
Chet would have leaped away to her assistance had not Jess grabbed him by the arm and screamed. The sleds were almost at the crossing, and surely Chet Belding would have been knocked down.
Janet Steele proved to be perfectly able to look out for herself. And on this occasion she could even do more than that.
She whirled and saw the horse coming with the wrecked wagon. She could not see up the hill of Nugent Street, for the corner house barred her vision in that direction. But without doubt she had heard the eager shouts of the coasters and understood what was ahead of them.
The runaway would cross the foot of the hill just in time, perhaps, to collide with one or more of the bobsleds.
Almost opposite the foot of Nugent Street and right beside the steep bank against which the coasters had been wont to stop their sleds, was a narrow lane pitching toward the lakeshore. This lane was near Janet Steele.
Chet saw it and realized how the horse might be turned. But the boy was too far away. Even as he shook off Jess Morse's frenzied hold on his arm, the runaway was upon Janet Steele.
The latter had whipped off the Red Cross veil she wore. Seizing it by both extremes she allowed the veil to float out on the brisk winter breeze, darting with it into the street.
The runaway's glaring eyes caught sight of the flapping folds of the veil, and he swerved, his hoofs sliding on the slippery drive. The eyes of a horse magnify objects tremendously, and the girl's figure and her flowing veil probably looked to the frightened animal like some awful and threatening bogey.
Scrambling and snorting, he swerved to the side of the road, saw the open lane, and the next moment thundered into it, the broken wagon skidding across the lane and smashing into a gatepost.
It was at the same instant that the head sled came sweeping down Nugent Street, crossed the avenue, and stood almost on end against the bank, stopping abruptly in the snow bank.
The other sleds poured down and stopped; but none had been in so much danger as that first one. Laura and Chet and their friends started on the run for the spot--and for Janet Steele.
"Oh!Oh! OH!" shrieked in crescendo one girl who had ridden on the first bobsled. "We might have been killed!"
Some of the boys ran after the horse. The rest of the young people surrounded Janet Steele.
"How brave you were," murmured Jess Morse admiringly.
"You've got a head on you, sure enough!" exclaimed Bobby Hargrew, while the Red Cross girl, blushing and with downcast eyes, began hastily to adjust her veil again.
"Oh, it was nothing," murmured Janet.
"Tell it to Lily. Here comes Lily Pendleton," said Jess, smiling again. "She won't think it was nothing."
The girl who had shrieked so loudly came up quickly to the group of Central High girls.
"Did you turn that horse?" she demanded of Janet Steele. "You are a regular duck! We might have all been killed! I never will ride down a hill with Freddy Brubach again! There should have been somebody down here to signal that we were coming!"
"Guess the horse would not have paid much attention to signals, Lil," laughed Laura.
"Only the kind that Miss Steele waved," added Bobby.
"Is that your name?" Lily Pendleton asked the Red Cross girl. "I'm awfully glad to know you."
"And much gladder that she was right on the job here when the horse came along, aren't you, Lil?" chuckled Bobby.
"She ought to have a medal," declared one of the other girls.
"Let's write to Mr. Carnegie about her," proposed Jess, but good-naturedly, and hugged Janet now that she had rearranged her veil.
"Oh, dear me!" gasped Janet Steele, "please don't make so much over so little. I shall almost be sorry that I turned the horse into the lane. And it was a little thing. I am not afraid of horses."
"A mere medal is nothing to Miss Steele, I bet," said Bobby, the emphatic. "I expect she has a trunk full of 'em. Like the German army officer who had his chest covered with iron crosses and medals and the like. Somebody asked him how he came to get them all.
"'Vell,' he said, pointing to the biggest and shiniest medal, 'I got dot py meestake; undt dey gif me de odders pecause I got dot one!'"
"Oh, you and your jokes, Bobby!" said Lily Pendleton, with some scorn. "This was a serious business. And there is another very serious matter, girls, that I have to call to your attention," she added, turning to Laura and Jess.
"What has gone wrong? Nothing about the play, I hope!" cried Jess.
"It is worse, because it is right at hand," said Lily, shaking her head. "What do you suppose Miss Carrington has done?"
"Oh, Gee Gee!" groaned Bobby, in despair. "I knew she would break out in a fresh spot."
"Do tell us what it is," begged Jess Morse.
"It is about Hessie," said Lily.
"Hester Grimes?" demanded Laura, with a rather grim expression. "What has happened to her now?"
"Why!" cried Lily, rather sharply, "you speak as though Hessie was always getting into trouble."
"You cannot deny but that she has frequently made afaux pas,as it were," said Jess, smiling.
"And what she does wrong," added Laura, with some bitterness, "usually affects the rest of us."
"She did not do a thing wrong!" cried Lily stormily. "You girls are just too mean!"
"Oh, come on, Lil," said Bobby. "Tell us the worst. We're prepared for murder, even."
"You are very rude, Clara Hargrew," declared Lily Pendleton. "Hessie is not to blame. She failed in rhetoric, and when Miss Carrington tried to put a lot of home work on her she refused to take it."
"What?" gasped Jess.
"Oh! She did refuse, did she?" snapped Bobby. "And a fat lot that would help her!"
"Well, I don't care!" cried Lily. "Gee Gee is just as mean----"
"Granted!" agreed Bobby, with emphasis. "But tell us how much Hessie has been set back?"
"Of course Miss Carrington has punished her if she was impudent," said Laura decidedly.
"She has punished us all!" cried Lily. "She refuses to allow Hessie to skate to-night. She's out of it."
"Out of the carnival?" cried several of her listeners in chorus.
"And Hester," cried Bobby, "is in the Dress Parade. What did I tell you? Gee Gee was just hoping to queer us."
"It is Hester Grimes who has queered us," Laura said, much more sternly than she usually spoke. "And we were all warned to be so careful!"
"Now, don't blame Hessie!" cried Hester's chum angrily.
"I'd like to know who we are to blame, then?" demanded Jess Morse, with disgust, "Knowing that Gee Gee is what she is, why couldn't Hester keep her own temper?"
"Well! I just guess--"
But after all it was Mother Wit who, though greatly offended, became peacemaker.
"There, there!" she said. "Enough is done already. We shall miss Hester. But we mustn't get angry with each other and therefore spoil the whole Dress Parade. That masquerade should be the most spectacular number on the program."
"But who will take Grimes' place?" demanded Bobby.
Laura stood beside Janet Steele, whose eyes were wide open, her cheeks glowing, and even her lips ajar with excitement. Laura had a very keen mind, and already she had apprehended that Janet was more deeply interested in this discussion, and the subject of it, than a stranger naturally would be. She turned now to stare into the Red Cross girl's face.
"Oh, Miss Steele!" she said, "didn't you tell us that you loved to skate?"
"Ye-es," admitted Janet.
"And she's as big as Hessie Grimes!" exclaimed Jess on the other side, and catching her chum's idea.
"Would you take Hester's part in the masquerade?" asked Laura pointblank.
"But she doesn't belong to Central High!" wailed Lily Pendleton.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Jess. "What does it matter? This is all for a show. It is no competition with other members of the League."
"Right-o, Jess!" crowed Bobby Hargrew.
"We-ell!" murmured Lily doubtfully.
"Come, Miss Steele--Janet," said Laura, pleadingly. "I know you can help us. Hester, being the biggest girl, was to lead in certain figures on the ice. You could easily learn them. And you can wear her costume, I know."
"Why--I----"
"You don't know anything of the kind, Laura Belding," snapped Lily, interrupting Janet. "I don't believe Hessie would let any other girl wear her masquerade suit."
"Sure she wouldn't!" exclaimed Bobby, with disgust. "She'll crab the whole game if she can. Hester Grimes always was a nuisance."
But Laura suddenly clapped her hands in real joy. "Oh, no!" she cried. "We won't ask Janet to wear any other girl's costume. I know what would be fine."
"Let's hear it, Laura dear," said Jess, eagerly. "Of course, you would have a bright idea. You always do."
"Why," said the pleased Laura, "if Janet will come and skate with us, she need only wear the very cloak and veil she has on now. What could be more fitting for a leader of our costume parade? The whole carnival is for the Red Cross, and with a Red Cross girl to lead the procession, and Chet in his Uncle Sam suit to lead the boys--Why! it will be the best ever."
"Hooray!" shouted Bobby, wild with enthusiasm.
"It is splendid!" agreed Jess.
Everybody in hearing agreed, save, perhaps, Lily Pendleton. Laura turned to Janet again and clasped her gloved hands over the new girl's arm.
"Will you, dear? Will you help us out?" she asked.