THE DOZEN FROM LAKERIM

By RUPERT HUGHES

Author of "The Lakerim Athletic Club"

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY C. M. RELYEA

1899. 

 TO THE BEST *Father* A BOY EVER HAD (EXCEPT POSSIBLY YOURS)BELONGS THE DEDICATION OF THIS STORY OF LIFE AT AN ACADEMY, SINCE HIS GOODNESS ENABLED ME TO KNOW IT AND WRITE IT

NOTE

About half of this book was published serially in "St. Nicholas. " Therest of it is here printed for the first time. If in this story oflife at a preparatory school I have neglected to say very much aboutbooks and studies, and have stuck to far less interesting matters, such as the games and gambols that while away the dull hours betweenclasses, I hope my readers will graciously forgive the omission. 

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

IT WAS EVIDENT THAT A SEVERE STRUGGLE HAD TAKEN PLACE

"STOP THE TRAIN AND WAIT FOR ME. I'M GOING TO KINGSTON, TOO!"

TUG IS TREATED TO A LITTLE SURPRISE-PARTY

QUIZ LEARNED TO SHOOT THE HILLS AT A BREATHLESS RATE

JUMBO SAW A PAIR OF FLASHING EYES GLARING AT HIM OVER THE COVERLET

PRETTY AND ENID

THE CROSS-COUNTRY RUN

THE BOXING-MATCH

TIED UP LIKE DUMMIES IN SACKS

"STRIKER--OUT!"

BURNING THE BOOKS

THE DOZEN FROM LAKERIM

I

Some people think it great fun to build a house of cards slowly andanxiously, and then knock it to pieces with one little snip of thefinger. Or to fix up a snow man in fine style and watch a sudden thawmelt him out of sight. Or to write a name carefully, like a copy-book, and with many curlicues, in the wet sand, and then scamper off and letthe first high wave smooth it away as a boy's sponge wipes from hisslate some such marvelous statement as, 12 × 12 = 120, or 384 ÷ 16gives a "koshunt" of 25. When such things are erased it doesn't muchmatter; but there are occasions when it hurts to have Father Time comealong and blot out the work you have taken great pains with and haveput your heart into. Twelve young gentlemen in the town of Lakerimwere feeling decidedly blue over just such an occasion. 

You may not find the town of Lakerim on the map in your geography. Andyet it was very well known to the people that lived in it. And theLakerim Athletic Club was very well known to those same people. Andthe Lakerim Athletic Club, or, at least the twelve founders of theclub, were as blue as the June sky, because it seemed to them thatFather Time--old Granddaddy Longlegs that he is--was playing a meantrick on them. 

For hadn't they given all their brain and muscle to building up anathletic club that should be a credit to the town and a terror tooutsiders! And hadn't they given up every free hour for two years toworking like Trojans? though, for that matter, who ever heard ofany work the Trojans ever did that amounted to anything--except thespending of ten years in getting themselves badly defeated by a bigwooden hobby-horse?

But while all of the Dozen were deep in the dumps, and had their browstied up like a neglected fish-line, the loudest complaint was made, of course, by the one who had done the least work in building up theclub--a lazybones who had been born tired, and had spent most of hisyoung life in industriously earning for himself the name of "Sleepy. "

"It's a dad-ratted shame, " growled he, "for you fellows to go andleave the club in the lurch this way, after all the trouble we havehad organizing it. "

"Yes, " assented another, who was called "B. J. " because he had jumpedfrom a high bridge once too often, and who read wild Western romancesmore than was good for his peace of mind or his conversation; "it kindof looks as if you fellows were renegades to the cause. "

None of the Twelve knew exactly what a renegade was, but it soundedunpleasant, and the men to whom the term was applied lost theirtempers, and volunteered to clean out the club-room where they all satfor two cents. 

But the offenders either thought they could have more fun for lessmoney, or hadn't the money, for they changed their tune, and thedebate went on in a more peaceful manner. 

The trouble was this: Some of you who are up on the important works ofhistory may have heard how these twelve youth of the High School atLakerim organized themselves into an athletic club that won manyvictories, and how they begged, borrowed, and earned enough money tobuild themselves a club-house after a year of hard work and harderplay. 

Well, now, after they had gone to all this trouble and all thisexpense, and had enjoyed the fruits of their labors barely a year, loand behold, one third of the Dozen were planning to desert the club, leave the town, and take their good muscles to another town, wherethere was an academy! The worst of it was that this academy was thevery one that had worked hardest to keep the Lakerim AthleticClub from being admitted into the league known as the Tri-StateInterscholastic. 

And now that the Lakerim Club had forced its way into the League, andhad won the pennant the very first year, it seemed hard that some ofthe most valuable of the Lakerimmers should even consider joiningforces with a rival. The president of the club himself was one ofthe deserters; and the rest of the Dozen grew very bitter, and thearguments often reached a point where it needed only one word more tobring on a scrimmage--a scrimmage that would make a lively footballgame seem tame by comparison. 

And now the president, or "Tug, " as he was always called, had beenbaited long enough. He rose to his feet and proceeded to deliver anoration with all the fervor of a Fourth-of-July orator making theeagle scream. 

"I want you fellows to understand once for all, " he cried, "thatno one loves the Lakerim Athletic Club more than I do, or is morepatriotic toward it. But now that I have graduated from the HighSchool, I can't consider that I know everything that is to be known. There are one or two things to learn yet, and I intend to go to apreparatory school, and then through college; and the best thing youfollows can do is to make your plans to do the same thing. Well, now, seeing that my mind is made up to go to college, and seeing thatI've got to go to some preparatory school, and seeing there is nopreparatory school in Lakerim, and seeing that I have therefore gotto go to some other town, and seeing that at Kingston there is a finepreparatory school, and seeing that I want to have some sort of a showin athletics, and seeing that the Athletic Association of the KingstonAcademy has been kind enough to specially invite three of us fellowsto go there--why, seeing all this, I don't see that there is anykick coming to you fellows if we three fellows take advantage of ouropportunities like sensible people; and the best advice I can giveyou is to make up your minds, and make up your fathers' and mothers'minds, to come along to Kingston Academy with us. Then there won't beany talk about our being traitors to the Dozen, for we'll just pickthe Dozen up bodily and carry it over to Kingston! The new memberswe've elected can take care of the club and the club-house. "

Tug sat down amid a silence that was more complimentary than thewildest applause; for he had done what few orators do: he had set hisaudience to thinking. Only one of the Twelve had a remark to make forsome time, and that was a small-framed, big-spectacled gnome called"History. " He leaned over and said to his elbow-companion, "Bobbles":

"Tug is a regular Demoskenes!"

"Who's Demoskenes?" whispered Bobbles. 

"Why, don't you remember him?" said History, proudly. "He was thefellow that used to fill his mouth full of pebbles before he talked. "

"I'll bet he would have choked on some of your big words, though, History, " growled a little fellow called "Jumbo. "

But the man at his side, known to fame as "Punk, " broke in with acrushing:

"Aw, let up on that old Dutchman of a Demoskenes, and let's talkbusiness. "

So they all got their heads together again and discussed their affairswith the solemnity due to their importance. They talked till thejanitor went round lighting up the club-house, which reminded themthat they were keeping dinner waiting at their various homes. Thenthey strolled along home. They met again and again; for the fate ofthe club was a serious matter to them, and the fate of the Dozen wasa still more serious matter, because the Dozen had existed before theclub or the club-house, and their hearts ached at the mere thought ofbreaking up the old and dear associations that had grown up aroundtheir partnership in many an hour of victory and defeat. 

But where there are many souls there are many minds, and it seemedimpossible to keep the Twelve together for another year. It wassettled that Tug and Jumbo and Punk should accept the flatteringinvitation of the Kingston Athletic Association, and their parentswere glad enough to have them go, seeing that Kingston was an academyof excellent standing. 

History was also to be there, for his learning had won him a freescholarship in a competitive examination. B. J. , "Quiz, " and Bobbleswere to be sent to other academies--to Charleston, to Troy, and toGreenville; but they made life miserable for their fathers and motherswith their pleadings, until they, too, were permitted to join theirfellows at Kingston. 

Sleepy was the only one that did not want to go, and he insisted thathe had learned all that was necessary for his purpose in life; that hesimply could not endure the thought of laboring over books anylonger. But just as the Dozen had resigned themselves to losing thecompanionship of Sleepy (he was a good man to crack jokes about, iffor no other reason), Sleepy's parents announced to him that hisdecision was not final, and that, whether or not he wanted to go, gohe should. And then there were eight. 

The handsome and fashionable young Dozener, known to his friendsas Edward Parker, and to fame as "Pretty, " was won over with muchdifficulty. He had completely made up his mind to attend the TroyLatin School--not because he loved Latin, but because Troy was theseat of much social gaiety, and because there was a large seminary forgirls in that town. He was, however, at length cajoled into consentingto pitch his tent at Kingston by the diplomatic Jumbo, who told himthat the girls at Kingston were the prettiest in three States. Andthen there were nine. 

The Phillips twins, "Reddy" and "Heady, " were the next source oftrouble, for they had recently indulged in an unusually violentsquabble, even for them, and each had vowed that he would neverspeak to the other again, and would sooner die than go to the sameboarding-school. The father of this fiery couple knew that the boysreally loved each other dearly at the bottom of their hearts, anddecided to teach them how much they truly cared for each other; sohe yielded to their prayer that they be allowed to go to differentacademies. The boys, in high glee, tossed up a penny to decide whichshould go with the Dozen to Kingston, and which should go to theBrownsville School for Boys. Reddy won Kingston, and rejoiced greatly. But though Heady was so blue that his brick-colored hair was almostdyed, nothing could persuade him to "tag along after his brother, " ashe phrased it. And so there were ten. 

The deepest grief of the Dozen was the plight of the beloved giant, "Sawed-Off. " There seemed to be no possible way of getting him toKingston, much as they thought of his big muscles, and more us theythought of his big heart. His sworn pal, the tiny Jumbo, was well nighdistracted at the thought of severing their two knitted hearts; butSawed-Off's father was dead, and his mother was too poor to pay forhis schooling, so they gave him up for lost, not without aching at theheart, and even a little dampness at the eyelids. 

Heady was the first to leave town. He slipped away on an early morningtrain without telling any one, for he felt very much ashamed of hisstubbornness; and he and his brother shook hands with each other asnervously as two prize-fighters. 

A few days later the five sixths of the Dozen that were bookedfor Kingston stood on the crowded platform of the Lakerimrailroad-station, bidding good-by to all the parents they had, and allthe friends. All of them had paid long calls on their best girlsthe evening before, and exchanged photographs and locks of hair andvarious keepsakes more or less sentimental and altogether useless. So, now that they were in public, they all shook hands very formally: Tugwith a girl several years older than he; Pretty with the beautifulEnid; Quiz with the fickle Cecily Brown; bashful Bobbles with thebouncing Betsy; B. J. With a girl who had as many freckles as B. J. Hadhad imaginary encounters with the bandits who had tried to steal her;the unwilling Sleepy with a lively young woman who broke his heart bycongratulating him on being able to go to Kingston; tiny Jumbo withplump Carrie Shields, whom he had once fished out of the water;and Reddy with the girl over whom he and his brother had had theirbitterest quarrels, and who could not for the life of her tell whichone she liked the better. 

[Illustration: STOP THE TRAIN AND WAIT FOR ME, I'M GOING TO KINGSTON, TOO!]

But there was one very little girl in the crowd whose greatest sorrow, strangely enough, was the fact that she had no one to bid good-byto, since her dearest friend, the huge Sawed-Off, was not to go toKingston. 

Just as the engine began to ring its warning bell, and the conductorto wave the people aboard, there was a loud clatter of hoofs, and therickety old Lakerim carryall came dashing up, drawn by the livelyhorses Sawed-Off had once saved from destroying themselves and theDozen in one fell swoop down a steep hill. The carryall lurched up tothe station came to a sudden stop, and out bounced--who but Sawed-Offhimself, loaded down with bundles, and yelling at the top of hisvoice:

"Stop the train and wait for me. I'm going to Kingston, too!"

II

There was just time to dump his trunk into the baggage-car, and bundlehim and his bundles on to the platform, before the train steamed away;and the eleven Lakerimmers were so busy waving farewell to the wavingand farewelling crowd at the station that it was some minutes beforethey could find time to learn how Sawed-Off came to be among them. When he explained that he had made arrangements to work his waythrough the Academy, they took no thought for the hard struggle infront of him, they were so glad to have him along. Jumbo and he satwith their arms around each other all the way to Kingston, theirhearts too full for anything but an occasional "Hooray!"

The journey to Kingston brought no adventures with it--except thatHistory, of course, had lost his spectacles and his ticket, and had toborrow money of Pretty to keep from being put off the train, and thatwhen they reached Kingston they came near forgetting Sleepy entirely, for he had curled up in a seat, and was reeling off slumber at afaster rate than the train reeled off miles. 

The first few days at Kingston were so busily filled with entranceexaminations and selection of rooms and the harder selection ofroom-mates and other furniture that the Dozen saw little of eachother, except as they crunched by along the gravel walks of the campusor met for a hasty meal in the dining-hall. This dining-hall, by theway, was managed by an estimable widow named Mrs. Slaughter, and ofcourse the boys called it the "Slaughter-house, " a name not so farfrom the truth, when one considers the way large, tough roasts of beefand tons of soggy corned beef were massacred by the students. 

It might be a good idea to insert here a little snap shot of KingstonAcademy. The town itself was a moth-eaten old village that claimeda thousand inhabitants, but could never have mustered that numberwithout counting in all the sleepy horses, mules, cows, and pet dogsthat roamed the streets like the rest of the inhabitants. The chiefindustry of the people of Kingston seemed to be that of sellingschool-books, mince-pies, and other necessaries of life to the boys atthe Academy. The grown young men of the town spent their lives tryingto get away to some other cities. The younger youth of the town spenttheir lives trying to interfere with the pleasures of the Kingstonacademicians. So there were many of the old-time "town-and-gown"squabbles; and it was well for the health of the Kingston Academy boysthat they rarely went around town except in groups of two or three;and it was very bad for the health of any of the town fellows if theyhappened to be caught within the Academy grounds. 

The result of being situated in a half-dead village, which was neitherloved nor loving, did not make life at the Academy tame, but quite theopposite; for the boys were forced to find their whole entertainmentin the Academy life, and in one another, and the campus was thereforea little republic in itself--a Utopia. Like every other republic, ithad its cliques and its struggles, its victories and its defeats, itsfriendships and its enmities, and everything else that makes lifelively and lifelike. 

The campus was beautiful enough and large enough to accommodate itscitizens handsomely. Its trees were many and tall, venerable oldmonarchs with foliage like tents for shade and comfort to any littlegroups that cared to lounge upon the mossy divans beneath. The groundswere spacious enough to furnish not only football and baseball fieldsand tennis-courts, but meadows where wild flowers grew in the spring, and a little lake where the ice grew in the winter. Miles away--justenough to make a good "Sabbath day's journey"--was a wonderful regioncalled the "Ledges, " where glaciers had once resided, and left hugeboulders, scratched and scarred. As Jumbo put it, it seemed, fromthe chasms and caves and curious distortions of stone and soil, that"nature must have once had a fit there. ". 

Most of the buildings of the Academy looked nearly old enough to havebeen also deposited there by the primeval glaciers, but they were hugeand comfortable, and so many colonies of boys had romped and ruminatedthere, and so much laughter and so much lore had soaked into the oldwalls, that they were pleasanter than any newer and more gorgeousarchitecture could possibly be. They were homely in the better as wellas the worse sense. 

But this is more than enough description, and you must imagine foryourselves how the Lakerim eleven, often as they thought of home, andhomesick as they were in spite of themselves now and then, rejoicedin being thrown on their own resources, and made somewhat independentcitizens in a little country of their own. Unwilling to makeselections among themselves, more unwilling to select room-mates fromthe other students (the "foreigners, " as the Lakerimmers called them), they drew lots for one another, and the lots decided that they shouldroom together thus: Tug and Punk were on the ground floor of thebuilding known as South College, in room No. 2; in the room just overthem were Quiz and Pretty; and on the same floor, at the back ofthe building, were Bobbles and Reddy (Reddy insisted upon this roombecause it had a third bedroom off its study-room; while, of course, he never expected to see Heady there, and didn't much care, of course, whether he came or not, still, a fellow never can tell, you know); onthe same floor were B. J. And Jumbo. Jumbo did not stoop to flatterB. J. By pretending that he would not have preferred Sawed-Off forhis room-mate; but Sawed-Off was working his way through, and theprincipal of the Academy had offered to help him out, not only with afree scholarship, but with a free room, as well, in Middle College, anold building which had the gymnasium on the first floor, the chapel onthe second, and in the loft a single store-room fixed up as a bedroom. 

The lots the fellows drew seemed to be in a joking mood when theyselected History and Sleepy for room-mates--the hardest student andthe softest, not only of the Dozen, but of the whole Academy. Sleepyhad been too lazy to pay much heed when the diplomatic History hadsuggested their choosing room No. 13 for theirs, and he assentedlanguidly. History had said that it was the brightest and sunniestroom in the building, and if there was one thing that Sleepy lovedalmost better than baseball, it was a good snooze in the sun after hehad worked hard stowing away any of the three meals. His heart wasbroken, however, when he learned that the room chosen by the wilyHistory was on the top floor, with three long flights to climb. Afterthat you could never convince him that thirteen was not an unluckynumber. 

The Lakerimmers had thus managed quietly to ensconce themselves, allexcept Sawed-Off, in one building; and it was just as well, perhaps, that they did so establish themselves in a stronghold of their own, for they clung together so steadfastly that there was soon a deal ofjealousy among the other students toward them, and all the factionscombined together to try to keep the Lakerimmers from cabbaging any ofthe good things of academy life. 

There was a craze of skylarking the first few weeks after the schoolopened. Almost every day one of the Lakerimmers would come back fromhis classes to find his room "stacked"--a word that exactly expressesits meaning. There is something particularly discouraging in going toyour room late in the evening, your mind made up to a comfortable hourof reading on a divan covered with cushions made by your best girls, only to find the divan placed in the middle of the bed, with a bureauand a bookcase stuck on top of it, a few chairs and a pet bulldog tiedin the middle of the mix-up, and a mirror and a well-filled bowl ofwater so fixed on the top of the heap that it is well-nigh impossibleto move any one of the articles without cracking the looking-glass ordousing yourself with the water. The Lakerimmers tried retaliation fora time; but the pleasure of stacking another man's room was not halfso great as the misery of unstacking one's own room, and they finallydecided to keep two or three of the men always on guard in thebuilding. 

There was a rage for hazing, too, the first few weeks; and as theLakerimmers were all new men in the Academy, they were consideredparticularly good candidates for various degrees of torment. Hazingwas strictly against the rules of the Academy, but the teachers couldnot be everywhere at once, and had something to do besides prowlaround the dark corners of the campus at all hours of the night. Someof the men furiously resisted the efforts to haze them; but when theyonce learned that their efforts were vain, and had perforce to submit, none of them were mean enough to peach on their tormentors after thedamage was done. The Lakerimmers, however, decided to resist forcewith force, and stuck by each other so closely, and barricaded theirdoors so firmly at night, when they must necessarily separate, that time went on without any of them being subjected to any otherindignities than the guying of the other Kingstonians. 

Sawed-Off had so much and such hard work to do after school hoursthat the whole Academy respected him too much to attempt to haze him, though he roomed alone in the old Middle College. Besides, his sizewas such that nobody cared to be the first one to lay hand on him. 

 * * * * *

There was just one blot on the happiness of the Dozen at Kingston. Tug and Punk and Jumbo had started the whole migration from Lakerimbecause they had been invited by the Kingston Athletic Association tojoin forces with the Academy. The magnificent game of football thesethree men had played in the last two years had been the cause of thisinvitation, and they had come with glowing dreams of new worlds toconquer. What was their pain and disgust to find that the captain ofthe Kingston team, elected before they came, had decided that he hadgood cause for jealousy of Tug, and had decided that, since Tug wouldprobably win all his old laurels away from him if he once admitted himto the eleven, the only way to retain those laurels was to keep Tugoff the team. When the Lakerim three, therefore, appeared on the fieldas candidates for the eleven, they were assigned to the second orscrub team. (The first team was generally called the "varsity, " thoughof course it only represented an academy. )

The Lakerim three, though disappointed at first, determined to showtheir respect for discipline, and to earn their way; so they submittedmeekly, and played the best game they could on the scrub. When thevarsity captain, Clayton by name, criticized their playing in away that was brutal, --not because it was frank, but because it wasunjust, --they swallowed the poison as quietly as they could, and wentback into the game determined not to repeat the slip that had broughtupon them such a deluge of abuse. 

It soon became evident, however, from the way Clayton neglected themistakes of the pets of his own eleven, and his constant and pettyfault-finding with the three Lakerimmers, that he was determined tokeep them from the varsity, even if he had to keep second-rate playerson the team, and even if he imperiled the Academy's chances againstrival elevens. 

When this unpleasant truth had finally soaked into their minds, theLakerimmers grew very solemn; and one evening, when the whole elevenhappened to be in room No. 2, and when the hosts, Tug and Punk, wereparticularly sore from the outrageous language used against themin the practice of the afternoon, Punk, who was rather easilydiscouraged, spoke up:

"I guess the only thing for us to do, fellows, is to pack up our dudsand go back home. There's no chance for us here. "

Tug, who was feeling rather muggy, only growled:

"Not on your life! I had rather be a yellow dog than a quitter. "

Then he relapsed into a silence that reminded History of Achilles inhis tent, though he was ungently told to keep still when he tried tosuggest the similarity. Reddy was fairly sizzling with rage at theClayton faction, and sang out:

"I move that we go round and throw a few rocks through Clayton'swindows, and then if he says anything, punch his head for him. "

This idea seemed to please the majority of the men, and they wereinstantly on their feet and rushing out of the door to execute theirvengeance on the tyrant, when Tug thundered out for them to come back. 

"I've got a better idea, " he said, "and one that will do us morecredit. I'll tell you what I am going to do: I am going to take thismatter into my own hands, and drill that scrub team myself, and seeif we can't teach the varsity a thing or two. I believe that, witha little practice and a little good sense, we can shove 'em off theearth. "

This struck the fellows as the proper and the Lakerim method of doingthings, and they responded with a cheer. 

III

Tug persuaded Reddy, B. J. , Pretty, and Bobbles, who had not beentrying for the team, to come out on the field. He even coaxed the busySawed-Off into postponing some of his work for a few days to help themout. He thus had almost the old Lakerim eleven at his command; andthat very night, in that very room, they concocted and practised a fewsecret tricks and a few surprises for Clayton, who was neither veryfertile in invention nor very quick to understand the schemes ofothers. 

Clayton was too sure of his own position and power to pay any heed tothe storm that was brewing for him, and was only too glad to see moreLakerim men on the scrub team for him to abuse. 

The next day Tug persuaded some of the others of the scrub eleven to"lay off" for a few days, and he also persuaded the captain of thescrub team to give him command for a week. Then he took his neweleven, seven of them old Lakerim veterans, out on the field, andworked with them early and late. 

To instil into the heads of his men the necessity of being in just theright place at the right time, Tug drew a map of the field on a largesheet of paper, and spread it on his center-table; then he tooktwenty-two checkers and set them in array like two football teams. Hegathered his eleven into his room at night, told each man Jack of themwhich checker was his, and set them problems to work out. 

"Suppose I give the signal for the left-guard to take the ball aroundthe right-end, " he would say, and ask each man in turn, "Where wouldyou go?"

Then the backs drew their checkers up to position as interference, andthe tackles and guards showed what particular enemies they were tobowl over. Many ridiculous mistakes were made at first, and each manhad a good laugh at the folly of each of the others for some play thatleft a big hole in the flying protection. But they could practise atnight and worry it out in theory, while their legs rested till thenext day's practice. 

When he could find an empty recitation-room at an idle hour, "Professor Tug, " as they soon called him, would gather his class abouthim and work out the same problems on the blackboards, each man beingcompelled to draw an arrow from his position at the time of the signalto his proper place when the ball was in play. 

The game now became a true science, and the scrub took it up witha new zest. This indoor drill made it easy also to revive a trickpopular at Yale in the 'Eighties--the giving of one signal to preparefor a series of plays. Then Tug would call out some eloquent gibberishlike "Seventy-'leven-three-teen, " and that meant that on the firstdown the full-back was to come in on the run, and take the ballthrough the enemy's left-guard and tackle; on the second down theright half-back was to crisscross with the left half-back; and on thethird down the right-guard was to scoot round the left-end. 

The beauty of this old scheme was that it caught the enemy napping:while he was lounging and waiting for the loud signal, the ball wassilently put in play before he was ready. On the fatal day Tug foundthat the scheme was well worth the trouble it took. It has itsdisadvantages in the long run, but on its first appearance at Kingstonit fairly made the varsity team's eyes pop with amazement. 

Tug did not put into play the whole strength of his eleven, butpractised cautiously, and instructed his team in the few ruses Claytonseemed to be fond of. He was looking forward to the occasion when acomplete game was to be played before the townspeople between thevarsity and the scrub; and Clayton was looking forward to this sameday, and promising himself a great triumph when the Academy and thetown should see what a rattling eleven he had made up. 

The day came. The whole Academy and most of the town turned out andfilled the grand stand and the space along the side lines. It was tobe the first full game of the season on the Academy grounds, and everyone was eager to renew acquaintance with the excitements of the fallbefore. You have doubtless seen and read about more football gamesthan enough, and you will be glad to skip the details of this contest. 

It will be unnecessary to do more than suggest how Clayton was simplydumfounded when he saw his first long kick-off caught by the veteranfull-back Punk, and carried forward with express speed under theprotection of Tug's men, who were not satisfied with merely running infront of Clayton's tacklers, but bunted into them and dumped them overwith a spine-jolting vigor, and covered Punk from attack on the rear, and carried him across the center line and well on into Clayton'sterritory before Clayton realized that several of his pets were merestraw men, and dashed violently and madly into and through Punk'sinterference, and downed him on the 15-yard line; how the spectatorslooked on in silent amazement at this unexpected beginning; howpromptly Tug's men were lined up, a broad swath completely opened withone quick gash in Clayton's line, and the ball shoved through andwithin five yards of the goal-posts, almost before Clayton knew it wasin play; how Clayton called his men to one side, and rebuked them, andtold them just what to do, and found, to his disgust, that when theyhad done it, it was just the wrong thing to do; how they could nothold the line against the fury of the scrub team; how the ball wasjammed across the line right under the goal-posts, and Clayton's headwell whacked against one of those same posts as he was swept off hisfeet; how Tug's men on the line were taught to avoid foolish attemptsto worry their opponents, and taught to reserve their strength for thesupreme moment when the call came to split the line; how Sawed-Off, though lighter than Clayton's huge 200 pound center, had more thanmere bulk to commend him, and tipped the huge baby over at justthe right moment; how Tug now and then followed a series of honestfootball maneuvers with some unexpected trick that carried the ballfar down the field around one end, when Clayton was scrambling afterit in the wrong place; how Tug had perfected his interference untilthe man carrying the ball seemed almost as safe as if Clayton's menwere Spaniards, and he were in the turret of the U. S. S. _Oregon_; howlittle time Tug's men lost in getting away after the ball had beenpassed to them; how little they depended on "grand stand" plays bythe individual, and how much on team-work; how Tug's men went throughClayton's interference as neatly as a fox through a hedge; how theyresisted Clayton's mass plays as firmly as harveyized steel; howClayton fumed and fretted and slugged and fouled, and threatened hismen, and called them off to hold conferences that only served to giveTug's men a chance to get their wind after some violent play; howTug was everywhere at once, and played for more than the pleasure ofwinning this one game--played as if he were a pair of twins, and onlysmiled back when Clayton glared at him; how Punk guarded the goal fromthe longest punts the varsity full-back could make, and how he kickedthe goal after all but one of the many touch-downs the scrub teammade; how little Jumbo, as quarter-back, passed the ball with never afumble and never a bad throw; how, when it came back to his hands, he skimmed almost as closely and as silently and as swiftly over theground as the shadow of a flying bird, and made long run after longrun that won the cheers of the crowd; how B. J. , Sawed-Off, and Pretty, as right-end, center, and left-end, responded at just the rightmoment, and how Pretty dodged and ran with the alertness he hadlearned in many a championship tennis tournament; and how Reddy, asleft half-back, flew across the field like a firebrand, or hurledhimself into the line with a fury that seemed to have no regard forthe bones or flesh of himself or the Claytonians; how--

IV

But did any one ever read such a string of "hows"? Why, that sentencewas getting to be longer and more complicated than the game it waspretending not to describe; so here's an end on't, with the plainstatement that the game (like that sentence) came finally to an end. But the effects of the contest did not end with the dying out of thecheers with which the victory of the scrub was greeted. And Tug'selevation did not cease when he had been caught up on the shoulders ofthe crowd and carried all over the field, amid the wild cheers of thewhole Academy. No more did Captain Clayton's chagrin end withhis awakening from the stupor into which he had been sent by thesurprisingly good form of the scrub. 

Clayton felt bitter enough at the exposure of his bad captaincy, buta still greater bitterness awaited him, and a still greater triumphawaited Tug, for the Athletic Association put their heads togetherand decided to have their little say. The result was published inthe Kingston weekly, and Tug, after the overwhelming honor of beinginterviewed by a live reporter, read there the following screaminghead-lines:

 SCRUB WIPES THE EARTH WITH VARSITY!

 * * * * *

 Kingston Football Team Meets with a Crushing Defeat at the Hands of the Second Eleven. 

 * * * * *

 SCORE, 28 to 4. 

 * * * * *

 VARSITY OUTPLAYED AT EVERY POINT. 

 * * * * *

 Popular Opinion Forces Captain Clayton to Resign in Favor of "Tug" Robinson. 

 * * * * *

 KINGSTON TEAM TO BE COMPLETELY REORGANIZED. 

 * * * * *

 Mr. Robinson Declares that Favoritism will Have no Part in the Make-up of the New Team, and Magnanimously Offers Ex-Captain Clayton a Position on the New Eleven. 

There is no need telling here the wild emotions in the hearts ofClayton and his faction at the end of the game, and no need of evenhinting the wilder delight of the Lakerimmers at the vindication oftheir cause. The whole eleven of them strolled home in one grandembrace, and used their jaws more for talking than for eating whenthey reached the long-delayed meal at the "Slaughter-house"; andafter supper they met again at the fence, and sang Lakerim songs ofrejoicing, and told and retold to each other the different features ofthe game, which they all knew without the telling. So much praise washeaped upon Tug by the rest of the Academy, and he was so fêted by theLakerimmers, that he finally slipped away and went to his room. Andlittle History also bade them good night, on his old excuse of havingto study. 

It was very dark before the Lakerimmers had talked themselves tired. Then they voted to go around and congratulate Tug once more upon hisvictory, and give him three cheers for the sake of auld lang syne. When they went to his room, they were amazed to see the door swingingopen and shut in the breeze; they noted that the lock was torn off. They hurried in, and found one of the windows broken, and books andchairs scattered about in confusion; the mantel and cloth and thephotographs on it were all awry. It was evident that a fierce strugglehad taken place in the room. The nine Lakerimmers stood aghast, staring at each other in stupefaction. Reddy was the first to findtongue, and he cried out:

"I know what's up, fellows: that blamed gang of hazers has got him!"

Now there was an excitement indeed. Punk suggested that perhaps hemight be in History's room, and Bobbles scaled the three flights, three steps at a time, only to return with a wild look, and declarethat History's room was empty, his lock broken, and his student lampsmoking. Plainly the hazing committee had lost no time in seizingits first opportunity. Plainly the Lakerimmers must lose no time inhurrying to the rescue. 

"Up and after 'em, men!" cried B. J. ; and, trying to remember whatwas the proper thing for an old Indian scout to do under thecircumstances, he started off on a dead run. And the others followedhim into the night. 

V

Tug had stood the praise and applause of his fellow-students, andespecially the wild flattery of the Dozen, who were almost insanelyjoyful over his success in captaining the scrub football team andwiping the earth up with the varsity, until he was as sick as a boythat has overfed on candy. Finally he had slunk away, rather like aguilty man than a hero, and started for his room. Once he had left thecrowd and was alone under the great trees, darkly beautiful with themoonlight, he felt again the delicious pride of his victory againstthe heavy odds, and the conspiracy of his deadly rival in football. He planned, in his imagination, the various steps he would take toreorganize the varsity eleven, to which it was evident that he wouldbe elected captain; and he smacked his lips over the prospects ofglorious battles and hard-won victories in the games in which heand his team would represent the Kingston Academy against the otheracademies of the Tri-State Interscholastic League. 

His waking dreams came true, in good season, too; for, under hisinspiring leadership, the Kingston men took up the game with a newzest, gave up the idea that individual grand-stand plays won games, and learned to sink their ambitions for themselves into a strongerambition for the success of the whole team. And they played sobrilliantly and so faithfully that academy after academy went downbefore them, and they were not even scored against until they met themost formidable rivals of all, the Greenville Academy. Greenville wasan old athletic enemy of the Lakerim Club, and Tug looked forward tomeeting it with particular delight, especially as the championship ofthe League football series lay between Greenville and Kingston. I haveonly time and room enough to tell you that when the final contestcame, Tug sent his men round the ends so scientifically, and led theminto the scrimmages so furiously, that they won a glorious victory of18 to 6. 

But this is getting a long way into the future, and away from Tug onhis walk to his room that beautiful evening, when all these triumphswere still in the clouds, and he had only one victory to look backupon. 

Tug's responsibility had been great that afternoon, and the strain ofcoaxing and commanding his scrub players to assault and defeat theheavier eleven opposed to them had worn hard on his muscles andnerves. When he got to his room he was too tired to remember that hehad forgotten to take the usual precautions of locking his door andwindows, or even of drawing the curtains. He did not stop to thinkthat hazing had been flourishing about the Academy grounds for sometime, and that threats had been made against any of the Lakerim Dozenif they were ever caught alone. He could just keep awake long enoughto light his student lamp; then he dropped on his divan, and buriedhis head in a red-white-and-blue cushion his best Lakerim girl hadembroidered for him in a fearful and wonderful manner, and was soondozing away into a dreamland where the whole world was one greatfootball, and he was kicking it along the Milky Way, scoring atouch-down every fifty years. 

A little later History poked his head in at the door. He also had leftthe crowd seated on the fence, and had started for his room to study. He saw Tug fast asleep, and let him lie undisturbed, though he wastempted to wake him up and say that Tug reminded him of the SleepingBeauty before taking the magic kiss; but he thought it might not besafe, and went on up to his room whistling, very much off the key. 

Tug slept on as soundly as the mummy of Rameses. But suddenly hewoke with a start. He had a confused idea that he had heard some onefumbling at his window. His sleepy eyes seemed to make out a face justdisappearing from sight outside. He dismissed his suspicions asthe manufactures of sleep, and was about to fall back again on thecomfortable divan when he heard footsteps outside, and the creak ofhis door-knob. He rose quickly to his feet. 

A masked face was thrust in at the door, and the lips smiledmaliciously under the black mask, and a pair of blacker eyes gleamedthrough it. 

Tug made a leap for the door to shut the intruder out, realizing in aflash that the hazers had truly caught him napping. 

But he was too late. The masked face was followed swiftly into theroom by the body that belonged to it, and by other faces and otherbodies--all the faces masked, and all the bodies hidden in long blackrobes. 

Tug fell back a step, and said, with all the calmness he could muster:

"I guess you fellows are in the wrong room. "

"Nope; we've come for you, " was the answer of the first masker, whospoke in a disguised voice. 

Tug looked as resolutely as he could into the eyes behind the mask, and asked rather nervously a question whose answer he could have aseasily given himself:

"Well, now that you're here, what do you want?"

Again the disguised voice came deeply from the somber-robed leader:

"Oh, we just want to have a little fun with you. "

"Well, I don't want to have any fun with you, " parleyed Tug, trying togain time. 

"Oh, it doesn't make any difference whether you want to come or not;this isn't your picnic--it's ours, " was the cheery response of thefirst ghost; and the other black Crows fairly cawed with delight. 

Still Tug argued: "What right have you men got to come into my roomwithout being invited?"

"It's just a little surprise-party we've planned. "

"Well, I'm not feeling like entertaining any surprise-party to-night. "

"Oh, that doesn't make any difference to us. " Again the black flockflapped its wings and cawed. 

And now Tug, as usual, lost his temper when he saw they were making aguy of him, and he blurted fiercely:

"Get out of here, all of you!"

Then the crowd laughed uproariously at him. 

And this made him still more furious, and though they were ten to one, Tug flung himself at them without fear or hesitation. When five ofthem fell on him at once, he dragged them round the room as if theywere football-players trying to down him; but the odds were too great, and before long they overpowered him and tied his wrists behind him;not without difficulty, for Tug had the slipperiness of an eel, alongwith the strength of a young shark. When they had him well bound, andhis legs tethered so that he could take only very short steps, theylifted him to his feet. 

"I think we'd better gag him, " said the leader of the Crows; and he, produced a stout handkerchief. But Tug gave him one contemptuous look, and remarked:

"Do you suppose I'm a cry-baby? I'm not going to call for help. "

There was something in his tone that convinced the captain of theCrows. 

VI

A detachment was now sent to scurry through the dormitory and see ifit could find any other Lakerimmers. This squad finally came down thestairs, the biggest one of the Crows carrying little History underhis arm. History was waving his arms and legs about as if he were atarantula, but the big black Crow held him tight and kept one handover the boy's mouth so that he could not scream. 

Then Tug began to struggle furiously again, and to resist theirefforts to drag him out of the room. He could easily have raised a crythat would have brought a professor to his rescue and scattered hispersecutors like sparrows; but his boyish idea of honor put thatrescue out of his reach, and he fought like a dumb man, with only suchoccasional grunts as his struggle tore from him. 

He might have been fighting them yet, for all I know, had not Historytwisted his mouth from under the hand of his captor and threatened--hehad not breath enough left to call for help:

"If--you--don't let me go--I'll--_tell_ on you. "

The very thought of this smallness horrified Tug so much that hestopped struggling, and turned his head to implore History not todisgrace Lakerim by being a tattler. The Crows saw their chance, andwhile Tug's attention was occupied one of them threw a loosely wovensack over his head and drew it down about his neck. Then they startedonce more on the march, History scratching and kicking in alldirections and doing very little harm, while Tug, with his hands tiedbehind him and his head first in a noose, used his only weapons, hisshoulders, with the fury of a Spanish bull. And before they got himthrough the door he had nearly disabled three of his assailants, making one of them bite his tongue in a manner most uncomfortable. Andthe room looked as if a young cyclone had been testing its musclesthere!

The Crows hustled the Lakerimmers out without any unnecessarytenderness, forgetting to close the door after them. Out of the halland across the board walk, on to the soft, frosty grass where thesound of their scuffling feet would not betray them, they jostledtheir way. Tug soon decided that the best thing for him to do was toreserve his strength; so he ceased to resist, and followed meeklywhere they led. They whirled him round on his heel several times toconfuse him as to the direction they took, then they hurried himthrough the dark woods of a neglected corner of the campus. Historysimply refused to go on his own feet, and they had to carry him mostof the way, and found only partial revenge in pinching his spiderylegs and bumping his head into occasional trees. 

The two boys knew when they left the campus by the fact that they werebundled and boosted over a stone wall and across a road. 

History, as he stumbled along at. Tug's side, at length came tohimself enough to be reminded of the way the ancient Romans used totreat such captives as were brought back in triumph by their generals. But Tug did not care to hear about the troubles of the Gauls--he hadtroubles of his own. 

Once they paused and heard a mysterious whispering among the Crows, who left them standing alone and withdrew a little distance. Historywas afraid to move in the dark, for fear that he might step out of thefrying-pan into the fire; but Tug, always ready to take even the mostdesperate chance, thought, he would make a bolt for it. He put onefoot forward as a starter, but found no ground in front of him. He felt about cautiously with his toe, and discovered that he wasstanding at the brink of a ledge. How deep the ravine in front of himwas, he could only imagine, and in spite of his courage he shiveredat the thought of what he might have done had he followed his firstimpulse and made a dash. There are pleasanter things on a dark nightthan standing with eyes blindfolded and hands bound on the edge of anunknown embankment. As he waited, the weakening effect of the struggleand the mysterious terrors of the darkness told on his nerves, and heshivered a bit in spite of his clenched teeth. Then he overheard thevoices of the Crows, and one of them was saying:

"Aw, go on, shove him over. "

Another protested: "But it might break his neck, and it's sure tofracture a bone or two. "

"Well, what of it? He nearly broke my jaw. "

Then Tug heard more excited whispering and what sounded like astruggle, and suddenly he heard some one rushing toward him; he felt asharp blow and a shove from behind, and was launched over the brink ofthe ledge. I'll not pretend that he wasn't about as badly scared astime would allow. 

But there was barely space for one lightning stroke of wild regretthat his glad athletic days were over and he was to be at least acripple, if he lived at all, when the ground rose up and smote himmuch quicker even than he had expected. As he sprawled awkwardly andrealized that he had hardly been even bruised, he felt a sense of rageat himself for having been taken in by the old hazing joke, and agreater rage at the men who had brought on him what was to him thegreatest disgrace of all--a feeling of fear. He had just time tomake up his mind to take this joke out of the hides of some of histormentors, if it took him all winter, when he heard above him thesound of a short, sharp scuffle with History, who was pleading fordear life, and who came flying over the ledge with a shrill scream ofterror, and plumped on the ground half an inch from Tug's head. Ittook History only half a second to realize that he was not dead yet, and he was so glad to be alive again--as he thought of it--that hebegan to sniffle from pure joy. 

The Crows were not long in leaping over the ledge and getting Tug andHistory to their feet. Then they took up the march again, staggeringunder their laughter and howling with barbarous glee. 

After half a mile more of hard travel, the prisoners were broughtthrough a dense woods into a clearing, where their party was greetedby the voices of others. The sack over Tug's head was unbound andsnatched away, and he looked about him to see a dozen more blackCrows, with two other hapless prisoners, seated like an Indianwar-council about a blazing lire, and, like an Indian war-council, pondering tortures for their unlucky captives. 

In the fire were two or three iron pokers glowing red-hot. The sightof this gave the final blow to any hope that might have remained ofHistory's conducting himself with dignity. When he and Tug were ledin, there was such an hilarious celebration over the two Lakerimcaptives as the Indian powwow indulged in on seeing a scouting partybring in Daniel Boone a prisoner. 

As Tug was the most important spoil of war, they took counsel, anddecided that he should be given the position of honor--and torturedlast. Then they went, enthusiastically to work making life miserablefor the two captives brought in previously. 

The first was compelled to climb a tree, which he did with some littledifficulty, seeing that, while half of them pretended to boost him, the other half amused themselves by grabbing his legs and pulling himback three inches for every one inch he climbed (like the frog and thewell in the mathematical problem). He finally gained a point abovetheir reach, however, and seated himself in the branches, lookingabout as happy as a lone wayfarer treed by a pack of wolves. Then, they commanded him to bark at the moon, and threatened him with allsorts of penalties if he disobeyed. So he yelped and gnarled andbow-wowed till there was nothing left of his voice but a sicklywheeze. 

Then they told him that the first course was over, and invited him toreturn to earth and rest up for the second. So he came sliddering downthe rough bark with the speed of greased lightning. 

The second captive was a great fat boy who had been a promisingcandidate for center rush on the football team until Sawed-Offappeared on the scene. This behemoth was compelled to seat himselfon a small inverted saucer and row for dear life with a pair oftoothpicks. The Crows howled with glee over the ludicrous anticsof the fellow, and set him such a pace that he was soon a perfectwaterfall of perspiration, and was crying for mercy. At length hecaught a crab and went heels over head backward on the ground, andthey left him to recover his breath and his temper. 

History had watched these proceedings with much amusement, but whenhe saw the hazers coming for him he lost sight of the fun of thesituation immediately. 

The head Crow now towered over the shivering little History, and saidin his deepest chest-tones: "These Lakerim cattle are too fresh. Theymust be branded and salted a little. "

Then he fastened a handkerchief over History's eyes, and growled: "Arethose irons hot yet?"

"Red-hot, your Majesty, " came the answer from one of the other ravens, and History heard the clanking of the pokers as they were drawn fromthe fire. He had seen before that they were red-hot, and now they werebrandished before his very nose, so close that he could see the redglow through the cloth over his eyes and could feel the heat in theair close to his cheek. 

"Where shall we brand the wretch, your Honor?" was the next questionHistory heard. 

The poor pygmy was too much frightened to move, and he almost faintedwhen he heard the first Crow answer gruffly: "Thrust the branding-ironright down the back of his neck, and give him a good long mark thatshall last him the rest of his life. "

Instantly History felt a bitter, stinging pain at the back of hisneck, a pain that ran like fire down along his spine, and he gave agreat shriek of terror and almost swooned away. 

Tug's eyes were not blindfolded, and he had seen that, though theCrows had waved a red-hot poker before History's nose, they hadquickly substituted a very cold rod to thrust down his back. Theeffect on the nerves of the blindfolded boy, however, was the same asif it had been red-hot, and he had dropped to earth like a flash. 

Tug, though he knew it would heighten his own tortures, could notavoid expressing his opinion of such treatment of the sensitiveHistory. He did not know whether he was more disgusted and enragedat the actual pain the Crows had given their captives or at theridiculous plights they had put them in, but he did know that heregarded the whole proceeding as a terrible outrage, a disgrace tothe Academy; and ever after he used all his influence against thebarbarous idea of hazing. 

But now he commanded as though he were master of the situation: "Throwsome of that water on the boy's face and bring him to, " and while theyhastened to follow out his suggestion he poured out the rage in hissoul:

"Shame on you, you big cowards, for torturing that poor little kid!You're a nice pack of heroes, you are! Only twenty to one! But I'llpay you back for this some day, and don't you forget it! And if you'lluntie my hands I'll take you one at a time now. I guess I could justabout do up _two_ of you at a time, you big bullies, you!"

And now one of the larger Crows rushed up to Tug, and drew off tostrike him in the face. But Tug only stared back into the fellow'seyes with a fiercer glare in his own, and cried:

"Hit me! My hands are tied now! It's a good chance for you, and you'llnever get another, for I'll remember the cut of that jaw and the moleon your cheek in spite of your mask, and you'll wish you had neverbeen born before I get through with you!"

Tug's rash bravado infuriated the Crows until they were ready for anyviolence, but the head Crow interposed and pushed aside the one whostill threatened Tug. He said laughingly:

"Let him alone, boys; we want him in prime condition for the grandfinal torture ceremonies. Let's finish up the others. "

Then they laughed and went back to the first two wretches, and madelife miserable for them to the end of their short wits. They wereafraid to try any more experiments on History, and left him lying bythe fire, slowly recovering his nerves. 

All the while Tug had remained so very quiet that the Crows detailedto watch him had slightly relaxed their vigilance. He had beensilently working at the cords with which his hands were tied behindhis back, and by much straining and turning and torment of flesh hehad at length worked his right hand almost out of the rope. 

Soon he saw that the Crows were about to begin on him. He thought thewhole performance an outrage on the dignity of an American citizen, and he gave the cords one last fierce jerk that wrung his right handloose, though it left not a little of the skin on the cords; and thefirst Crow to lay a hand on his shoulder thought he must have toucheda live wire, for Tug's hand came flashing from behind his back, andstruck home on the fellow's nose. 

Then Tug warmed up to the scrimmage, and his right and left arms flewabout like Don Quixote's windmill for a few minutes, until two of thetwo dozen Crows lighted on his back and pinioned his arms down andbore him gradually to his knees. 

Just as the rest were closing in to crush Tug, --into mincemeat, perhaps, --History, who had been lying neglected on the ground near thefire, rose to the occasion for once. It seemed as if he had, as itwere, sat down suddenly upon the spur of the moment. He rolled overswiftly, caught up the two pokers which had been restored to the fireafter they had been used to frighten him, and, before he could beprevented, thrust the handle of one of them into Tug's grasp, and roseto his feet, brandishing the other like a sword. 

Tug lost no time in adapting himself to the new weapon. He simplywaved it gently about and described a bright circle in the air overhis head. And his enemies fell off his back and scattered likegrasshoppers. 

Tug now got quickly to his feet, and he and History shook hands withtheir left hands very majestically. Then they faced about and stoodback to back, asking the Crows why they had lost interest so suddenly, and cordially inviting them to return and finish the game. 

They stood thus, monarchs of all they surveyed, for a few moments. Butdismay replaced their joy as they heard the words of the first Crow:

"They can't get back to their rooms before their pokers grow cold, andit is only a matter of a few minutes until they chill, anyway, so allthat we have to do is to wait here a little while, and then go backand finish up our work--and perhaps add a little extra on account ofthis last piece of rambunctiousness. "

Tug saw that they were prisoners indeed, but intended to hold the fortuntil the last possible moment. He told History to put his poker backin the fire and to heat it up again, while he stood guard with hisown. 

To this stratagem the first Crow responded with another, --he trumpedTug's ace, as it were, --for though he saw that the fire was going outand would not heat the pokers much longer, he decided not to wait forthis, but set his men to gathering stones and sticks to pelt the twoluckless Lakerimmers with. 

And now Tug saw that the chances of escape were indeed small. He feltthat he could make a dash for liberty and outrun any one in the crowd, or outfight any one who might overtake him; but he would sooner havedied than leave History, who could neither run well nor fight well, tothe mercies of the merciless gang that surrounded them. 

"Let's give the Lakerim yell together, History, " he said; "perhaps thefellows have missed us and are out looking for us, and will come toour rescue. "

So he and History filled their lungs and hurled forth into the air theold Lakerim yell, or as much of it as two could manage:

 {ray! {ri! {ro! "L`¨¡y-krim! L`¨¡y-krim! L`¨¡y-krim! Hoo-{row! {roo! {rah!"

The Crows listened in amazement to the war-whoop of the twoLakerimmers. Then the first Crow, who had Irish blood in his veins, smiled and said:

"Oho! I see what they are up to; they're calling for help. Well, now, we'll just drown out their yell with a little noise of our own. "

And so, when Tug and History had regained breath enough to begin theirclub cry again, the whole two dozen of the Crows broke forth into ahorrible hullabaloo of shrieks and howls that drowned out Tug's andHistory's voices completely, but raised far more noise than they couldever have hoped to make. 

After a few moments of thus caterwauling night hideous, like a pack ofcoyotes, the Crows began to close in on the Lakerim stronghold, andstones and sticks flew around the two in a shower that kept them busydodging. 

"We've got to make a break for it, Hist'ry, " said Tug, under hisbreath. "Now, you hang on to me and I'll hang on to you, and don'tmind how your lungs ache or whether you have any breath or not, butjust leg it for home. "

He had locked his arm through History's, and made a leap toward thecircle of Crows just as a heavy stone lighted on the spot where theyhad made their stand so long. 

Before the Crows knew what was up, Tug and History were upon themand had cut a path through the ring by merely brandishing theirincandescent pokers, and had disappeared into the dark of the woods. 

There was dire confusion among the Crows, and some of them ran everywhich way and lost the crowd entirely as History and Tug vanished intothe thick night. 

The glowing pokers, however, that were their only weapons of defense, were also their chiefest danger, and a pack of about a dozen Crowssoon discovered that they could follow the runaways by the gleam ofthe rods. Tug realized this, too, very shortly, and he and Historythrew the pokers away. 

Tug and History, however, had come pretty well to the edge of thewood, and were just rushing down a little glade that would lead theminto the open, when the first Crow yelled for some of his men to takea short cut and head them off. 

The Lakerimmers, then, their breath all spent and their heartsburning with the flight, which Tug would not let History give up, sawthemselves headed off and escape no longer possible. Tug knew thatHistory would be useless in a scrimmage, so, in a low tone, he badehim drop under a deep bush they were just passing. History was tooexhausted to object even to being left alone, and managed to sink intothe friendly cover of the bush without being observed. And Tug wentright into a mob of them, crying with a fine defiance the old yell ofthe Athletic Club:

"L`¨¡y-krim! L`¨¡y-krim! L`¨¡y-krim! Hoo-ray!"

VII

The nine Lakerimmers who had set forth to the rescue of Tug andHistory had no more clue as to the whereabouts of the kidnapped twainthan some broken furniture and an open door; and even one who was sowell versed in detective stories as B. J. , had to admit that this wasvery little for what he called a "slouch-hound" to begin work on. There had been no snow, and the frost had hardened the ground, so thatthere were no footprints to tell the way the crowd of hazers had gone. 

As Jumbo said:

"It's like looking for a needle in a haystack after dark; and itwouldn't do you any good to sit down in this haystack, either. "

The only thing to do, then, was to scour the campus in all its nooksand crannies, pausing now and then to look and listen hard for anysign or sound of the captives. But each man heard nothing except thepounding of his own heart and the wheezing of his own lungs. Then theymust up and away again into the dark. 

They had scurried hither and yon, and yonder and thither, until theywere well-nigh discouraged, when, just as they were crashing throughsome thick underbrush, B. J. Stopped suddenly short. Sawed-Off bumpedinto him, and Jumbo tripped over Sawed-Off; but B. J. Commanded themto be silent so sharply that they paused where they had fallen andlistened violently. 

Then they heard far and faint in the distance to the right of theircourse a little murmur of voices just barely audible. 

B. J. 's quick ear made out the difference between this far-off hubbuband the other quiet sounds of the night. 

That dim little noise his breathless fellows could just hear was thewild hullabaloo the foolish Crows had set up to drown out the voicesof Tug and History, as they gave the Lakerim yell. 

B. J. 's ear was correct enough not only to understand the noise but todecide the direction it came from, though to the other Lakerimmers itcame from nowhere in particular and everywhere in general. Before theyhad made up their minds just how puzzled they were, B. J. Was strikingoff in a new direction at the top of his speed, and was well over thestone wall before they could get up steam to follow him. Across theroad and through the barbed-wire fence he led them pell-mell. Therewas a little pause while Jumbo helped the lubberly Sawed-Off throughthe strands that had laid hold of his big frame like fish-hooks. B. J. Took this chance to vouchsafe his followers just one bit ofinformation. 

"They're at Roden's Knoll, " he puffed. 

Roden's Knoll was a little clearing in the woods that marked thehighest point of land in the State, though it was approached verygradually, and nothing but a barometer could have told its elevation. 

It was a long run through the night, over many a treacherous bogand through many a cluster of bushes, which, as Jumbo said, hadfinger-nails; and there was many a stumble and jolt, and many a shortstop at the edge of a sudden embankment. One of these pauses thatbrought the whole nine up into a knot was the little step-off whereTug and History had thought they were being shoved over the precipiceof a Grand Cañon. 

At length Roden's Knoll was reached, but there the weary Lakerimmerswere discouraged to find nothing but a smoldering fire and the signsof a hard straggle. 

"We're too late; it's all over, " sighed Pretty, thinking sadly of themud and the rips and tears that disfigured his usually perfect toilet. 

"I move we rest a bit, " groaned Sleepy, seconding his own motion bydropping to the ground. 

"Shh!" commanded B. J. ; "d'you hear that?"

Instantly they were all in motion again, for they heard the noise ofmany runners crashing through the thicket. 

Soon they saw a shadowy form ahead of them and overtook it, andrecognized one of the Crows. They gave him a glance, and then shovedhim to one side with little gentleness, and ran on. Two or three ofthe Crows they overtook in this manner, but spent little time uponthem. 

They were bent upon a rescue, not upon the taking of prisoners. Then, just as they were approaching the edge of the woods, they heard a crythat made their weary blood gallop. It was the "L`¨¡y-krim! L`¨¡y-krim!"of Tug making his last charge on the flock of Crows. 

In a moment they had reached the mass of humanity that was writhingover him, and they began to tear them off and fling them back upon theground with fierce rudeness. Man after man they peeled off and flungback till they got down to one fellow with his knee on somebody'snose. 

That nose was Tug's, and they soon had the boy on his feet, and turnedto continue the argument with the Crows. But there were no Crows toargue with. The Dozen had made up in impetus and vim what it lacked innumbers, and the Crows had fled as if from an army. A few black ghostsflying for their lives were all they could see of the band that hadbeen so courageous with only History and Tug to take care of. 

So the ten from Lakerim gathered together, and while B. J. Beat timethey spent what little breath was left in them on the club yell. Itsounded more like a chorus of bullfrogs than of young men, but it wasgladsome enough to atone for its lack of music, and it was loud enoughto convince History that it was safe to come out, of the bushes wherehe had been crouching in ghostly terror. 

The Lakerimmers were inclined to laugh at History for his fears, butTug told them that if it had not been for his seizing the red-hotpokers there would have been a different story to tell; so they huggedhim instead of laughing at him, and Sawed-Off clapped him on the backsuch a vigorous thump that History thought the hazers had hold of himagain. 

Now they took up their way back to the Academy, and B. J. Began to plota dire revenge on the cowardly Crows. But Tug said:

"I move we let the matter drop. They're the ones to talk now ofgetting even, for they have certainly had the worst of it. It'll bejust as well to keep a sharp eye on them, though, and it is veryimportant for us to stand together. "

When they had reached the dormitory they all joined in straighteningup and rearranging Tug's room before they went to their well-earnedsleep. 

 * * * * *

I am afraid the Lakerim eleven had the bad taste to do a littlegloating over the Crows. Their wit was not always of the finest, butthey enjoyed it themselves, though little the Crows liked it, and itkept them all unusually happy for many days--

All except Reddy. He showed a strange inclination to "mulp"--aportmanteau word that Jumbo coined out of "mope" and "sulk. "

VIII

To see the hilarious Reddy mulping was very odd. About the onlysubject in or out of books that seemed to interest him in theslightest degree was the mention of the name of his twin brother, Heady; and that, too, in spite of the fact that the two of them hadquarreled and bickered so much that their despairing parents hadfinally sent them to different schools. But now Reddy seemed to beinconsolable, grieving for the other half of his twin heart. 

Finally the boy's blues grew so blue that no one was much surprisedwhen he announced his desperate determination to journey to the townwhere Heady was at school, and visit him. Reddy got permission fromthe Principal to leave on Friday night and return on Monday. He hadbeen saving up his spending-money for many a dismal week, and now hewent about borrowing the spending-money of all his friends. 

One Friday evening, then, after class hours, all the Lakerimmers wentin a body down to the railroad-station to bid Reddy a short good-by. 

Jumbo felt inclined to crack a few jokes upon Reddy's inconsistency instruggling so hard to get away from his brother, and then strugglingso hard to go back to him, but Tug told Jumbo that the subject was tootender for any of his flippancy. 

On reaching the depot they found that Reddy's train was half an hourlate, and that a train from the opposite direction would get in first. So they all stood solemnly around and waited. When this train pulledinto the station you can imagine the feelings of all when the firstone to descend was--

Was--

Heady!

The Twins stood and stared at each other like tailors' dummies for amoment, while the strangers on the platform and on the train wonderedif they were seeing double. 

Then Reddy and Heady dropped each his valise, and made a spring. Andeach landed on the other's neck. 

Now Sawed-Off seized Heady's valise, and Jumbo seized Reddy's, andthen they all set off together--the reunited Twins, the completedDozen--for the campus. The whole Twelve felt a new delight in thereunion, and realized for the first time how dear the Dozen was. 

The Twins, of course, were blissfulest of all, and marched at the headof the column with their arms about each other, exchanging news andolds, both talking at once, and each understanding perfectly what theother was trying to say. 

Thus they proceeded, glowing with mutual affection, till they reachedthe edge of the campus, when the others saw the Twins suddenly loosetheir hold on each other, and fall to, hammer and tongs, over somequarrel whose beginning the rest had not heard. 

Jumbo grinned and murmured to Sawed-Off: "The Twins are themselvesagain. "

But Sawed-Off hastened to separate and pacify them, and they set offagain for Reddy's room, arm in arm. Later Heady arranged with hisparents to let him stay at Kingston for the rest of the school-year. 

 * * * * *

Heady had not been back among his old cronies long before they had himup in a corner in Reddy's room, and were all trying at the same timeto tell him of the atrocious behavior of the Crows, their harshtreatment of Tug and History, the magnificent resistance, and theglorious rescue. 

"It reminds me, " said History, "of one of Sir William Scott's novels, with moats and castles, and swords and shields, and all sorts ofbeautiful things. "

But B. J. Broke in scornfully:

"Aw, that old Scott, he's a deader! It reminds me of one of those newdetective stories with clues and hair-breadth escapes. And Tug is like'Iron-armed Ike, ' who took four villyuns, two in each hand, and swungthem around his head till they got so dizzy that they swounded away, and then he threw one of 'em through a winder, and used the otherthree like baseball bats to knock down a gang of desperate ruffiansthat was comin' to the rescue. Oh, but I tell you, it was great!"

"'Strikes me, " Bobbles interrupted, "it's more like one of FunnimoreHooper's Indian stories, with the captives tied to the stake and bein'tortured and scalluped, and all sorts of horrible things, when alongcomes old Leather-boots and picks 'em all off with his trusty rifle. "

Two or three others were evidently reminded of something else theywere anxious to describe; but Heady was growing impatient and verywrathful, and he broke in:

"Well, while you fellows are all being reminded of so many things, I'd like to ask just one thing, and that is, what are you going to doabout it?"

"Nothing at all, " said History. And thinking of his unexpected escapefrom his terrible adventure, he added quickly: "I think we did mightywell to get out of it alive. "

"Pooh!" sniffed Heady, getting madder every moment. 

"Well, Tug says the same thing, " drawled Sleepy. "He says that we gotthe best of it all around, and that if anybody's after revenge itought to be the Crows, because we wiped 'em off the earth. "

"Bah!" snapped Heady. "It isn't enough for the Lakerim Athletic Clubto get out of a thing even, and call quits. Leastways, that wasn't thepollersy when I used to be with you. "

This spirit of revolt from the calm advice of Tug seemed to becatching, and the other Lakerimmers were becoming much excited. Tugmade a speech, trying to calm the growing rage, and he was supportedby History, who tried to bring up some historical parallels, but wasordered off the floor by the others. Tug's plan, which was seconded byHistory from motives of timidity, was thirded by Sleepy from motivesof laziness. 

But Heady leaped to his foot and delivered a wild plea for war, suchanother harangue as he had delivered during the famous snow-battle atthe Hawk's Nest. He favored a sharp and speedy retaliation. 

"Well, how are you going to retaliate?" said Tug, who saw hislet-her-go policy losing all its force, and who began to grow just abit eager himself to give the Crows a good lesson. Still, he repeated, when Heady only looked puzzled and gave no answer:

"How are you going to retaliate, I say?"

"A chance will come, " said Heady, solemnly. 

And Reddy, who had been burning up with patriotic zeal for the gloryof Lakerim, was so proud of his brother's success in stirring up awarlike spirit that he moved over, and sat down beside him on thewindow-seat, and put his arms around him, and they never quarreledagain--till after supper. 

But the chance came--sooner than any of them expected. 

IX

For Quiz, whose curiosity threatened to be the death of him some day, and who was always snooping around, learned, not many days later, thatthe Crows were planning to give a great banquet in a room over theonly restaurant in the village. This feast had been intended as agrand finale to the season of hazing, and it was to be paid for bythe poor wretches who had been given the pleasure of being hazed, and taxed a dollar apiece for the privilege. Strange to say, the twoLakerim men whom the Crows had tried to haze were neither invited topay the tax nor to be present at the banquet. In fact, the unkindbehavior of the Lakerimmers had hurt the feelings of the Crows verybadly, and cast a gloom over the whole idea of the banquet. 

As soon as Quiz learned, in a roundabout way, where and when the feastwas to be held, he came rushing into Tug's room, where the Dozen hadgathered Saturday evening after a long day spent in skating on thefirst heavy ice of the winter. 

Quiz crashed through the door, and smashed it shut behind him, andyelled: "I've got it! I've got it!" with such zeal that Sleepy, whowas taking a little doze in a tilted chair, went over backward into acorner, and had to be pulled out by the heels. 

History spoke up, as usual, with one of his eternal school-bookmemories, and piped out:

"You remind me, Quiz, of the day when Archimeter jumped out of hisbath-tub and ran around yelling, 'Euraker! Euraker!"

But Heady shouted:

"Somebody stuff a sofa-cushion down History's mouth until we learnwhat it is that Quiz has got. "

"Or what it is that's got Quiz, " added Jumbo. 

When History had been upset, and Sleepy set up, Quiz, who had runseveral blocks with his news, found breath to gasp:

"The Crows are going to have a banquet!"

Then he flopped over on the couch and proceeded to pant like asteam-roller. 

The rest of the Dozen stared at Quiz a moment, then passed a lookaround as if they thought that either Quiz was out of his head or theywere. Then they all exclaimed in chorus:

"Well, what of it?"

And Jumbo added sarcastically:

"It'll be a nice day to-morrow if it doesn't rain. "

Quiz was a long time getting his breath and opening his eyes; then itwas his turn to look around in amazement and to exclaim:

"What of it? What of it? Why, you numskulls, don't you see it's justthe chance you wanted for revenge?"

"What do you mean?" exclaimed the others. "Do you mean that we shouldgo down and eat the banquet for 'em?" queried Sleepy, whose firstthought was always either for a round sleep or a square meal. 

"I hadn't thought of that, " said Quiz. "That would be a good idea, too. What I had in my mind was doing what they do in the big collegessometimes: kidnap the president of the crowd so that he can't go tothe dinner. "

"Great head! Great scheme!" the others exclaimed; and they jumped totheir feet and indulged in a war-dance that shook the whole building. 

When they had done with this jollification, Tug, who objected to doingthings by halves, asked:

"Why not kidnap the whole kit and boodle of them?"

Then there was another merry-go-round. But they all stopped suddenly, and Quiz expressed the sentiment of all of them when he said:

"But how are we going to do it?"

Then they all put their heads together for a long and serious debate, the result of which was a plan that seemed to promise success. 

The banquet was to be held on the next Friday night at night o'clock, and the Dozen had nearly a week for perfecting their plot. 

Sawed-Off suggested the first plan that looked feasible for takingcare of the whole crowd of the Crows, about two dozen in number. Thechapel, over which Sawed-Off had his room, had a large bell-tower--asSawed-Off well knew, since it was one of his duties to ring the bellon all the many occasions when it was to be rung. In this cupola therewas a loft of good size; it was reached by a heavy ladder, which couldbe removed with some difficulty. Under the chapel there was a largecellar, which seemed never to have been used for any particularpurpose, though it was divided into a number of compartments separatedby the stone walls of the foundation or by heavy boarding. A fewhundred old books from the library were about its only contents. Theonly occupant of the chapel, except at morning prayers and on Sundays, was Sawed-Off. The gymnasium on the ground floor was not lighted upafter dark, and so the building was completely deserted every evening. 

Some unusual scheme must be devised to enable twelve men to take careof twenty-four. Fortunately it happened that half a dozen of thetwenty-four took the six-o'clock train for their homes in neighboringtowns, where they went to spend Saturday and Sunday with theirparents. This reduced the number to eighteen. Friday evening a numberof the Crows appeared at the "Slaughterhouse, " though there was to bea banquet at eight o'clock. With true boyhood appetite, they felt, that a bun in the hand is worth two in the future; and besides, whatself-respecting boy would refuse to take care of two meals where hehad been in the habit of only one? It would be flying in the face ofProvidence. 

Now, Sawed-Off, who, as you know, was paying his way through theAcademy, earned his board by waiting on the table. He had an excellentchance, therefore, for tucking under the plates of all the Crows anote which read:

 The Crows will meet at the Gymnasium after dark and go to Moore's resteront in a body. 

 N. B. Keep this conphedential. 

To half a dozen of the notes these words were added:

 You are wanted at the Gymnasium at a 1/4 to 7 to serve on a cummitty. Be there sharp. 

The Crows naturally did not know the handwriting of every one oftheir number, and did not recognize that the notes were of History'smanufacture. They were a little mystified, but suspected nothing. 

The Dozen gathered in full force at the gymnasium as soon after supperas they could without attracting attention. Sawed-Off, who had thekeys of the building, then posted a strong guard at the heavy door, and explained and rehearsed his plan in detail. 

At a quarter of seven the six who had been requested to serve on the"cummitty" came in a body, and finding the door of the gymnasiumfastened, knocked gently. They heard a low voice from the inside ask:

"Who's there?"

And they gave their names. 

"Do you all belong to the Crows?"

Of course they answered: "Yes. "

They were then admitted in single file into the vestibule, which wasabsolutely dark. As each one stepped in, a hand was laid on each armand he was requested in a whisper to "Come this way. " Between his twoescorts he stumbled along through the dark, until suddenly the doorwas heard to close, and the key to snap in the lock; then immediatelyhis mouth was covered with a boxing-glove (borrowed from thegymnasium), his feet were kicked out from under him, and before heknew it his two courteous escorts had their knees in the small of hisback and were tying him hand and foot. 

One or two of the Crows put up a good fight, and managed to squirmaway from the gagging boxing-gloves and let out a yelp; but the heavydoor of the gymnasium kept the secret mum, and there was something sosurprising about the ambuscade in the dark that the Dozen soon had thehalf-dozen securely gagged and fettered. Then they were toted likemeal-bags up the stairs of the chapel, and on up and up into the loft, and into the bell-tower. There they were laid out on the floor, andtheir angry eyes discovered that they were left to the tender merciesof Reddy and Heady. The only light was a lantern, and Reddy and Headyeach carried an Indian club (also borrowed from the gymnasium), andwith this they promised to tap any of the Crows on the head if he madethe slightest disturbance. 

The ten other Lakerimmers hastened down to the ground floor again justin time to welcome the earliest of the Crows to arrive. This was afellow who had always believed up to this time in being punctual; buthe was very much discouraged in this excellent habit by the receptionhe got at the gymnasium. For, on saying, in answer to the voice behindthe door, that he had the honor of being a Crow, he was ushered in andtreated to the same knock-down hospitality that had been meted out tothe Committee of Six. 

The wisdom of using the words "after dark" on the forged invitationwas soon made evident, because the Crows did not come all at once, but gradually, by ones and twos, every few minutes between seven andhalf-past. In this way eleven more of the Crows were taken in. Thesewere bundled down into the dark cellar, and stowed away in groups ofthree or four in three of the compartments of the cellar, each with aguard armed with a lantern and an Indian club. 

By a quarter to eight the Lakerimmers believed that they had accountedfor all of the twenty-four Crows except the president, MacManus. Sixhad left town, six were stowed aloft in the cupola, and eleven were, as B. J. , the sailor, expressed it, "below hatches. " Five of the Dozenwere posted as guards, and that left seven to go out upon the war-pathand bring in the chief of the Ravens. 

He had felt his dignity too great to permit him to take two meals inone evening; besides, he was very solemnly engaged in preparing aspeech to deliver at the banquet; and his task was very difficult, since he had to make a great splurge about the glories of thecampaign, without reminding every one of the inglorious result of theattempt to haze the Dozen. 

No note had been sent to him, and it seemed necessary to concoct somescheme to decoy him from his room, because any attempt to drag him outwould probably bring one of the professors down upon the scene. 

Tug had an idea; and leaving three of the seven to guard the door, he took the other three and hurried to the dormitory where MacManusroomed, and threw pebbles against his window. The chief Crow soonstuck his head out and peered down into the dark, asking what was thematter. A voice that he did not recognize--or suspect--came out of theblackness to inform him that some of the Crows were in trouble at thegymnasium, and he must come at once. 

After waiting a moment they saw his light go out and heard his feetupon the stairs, for he had lost no time in stuffing into his pocketthe notes for his address at the banquet, and flying to the rescue ofthe captive banqueters. As soon as he stepped out of the door of thedormitory, History's knit muffler was wrapped around his mouth, and hewas seized and hustled along toward the gymnasium. 

Tug felt a strong desire to inflict punishment then and there uponthe man who had tortured him when he was helpless, but that was notaccording to the Lakerim code. Another idea, however, which was quiteas cruel, but had the saving grace of fun, suggested itself to him, and he said to the others, when they had reached the gymnasium:

"I'll tell you what, fellows--"

"What?" said the reunited seven, in one breath. 

"Instead of putting MacManus with the rest of 'em, let's take himalong and make him look on while we eat the Crows' banquet. "

"Make him 'eat crow' himself, you mean, " suggested Jumbo. 

The idea appealed strongly to the Lakerimmers, who, after all, werehuman, and couldn't help, now and then, enjoying the misery of thosewho had made them miserable. While MacManus was securely held by twoof the Dozen, Sawed-Off and Tug went to the cupola to summon theTwins. The knots with which the "cummitty" were tied were carefullylooked to and strengthened, and then the Lakerimmers withdrew from thecupola, taking the lantern with them, dragging a heavy trap-door overtheir heads as they descended the ladder, and then taking the ladderaway and laying it on the floor. They hurried down the stairs then, and went to the cellar, looking alive again to the fetters of theCrows, and closing and barring the heavy wooden doors between thecompartments as securely as they could. 

They came up the stairs, and put down and bolted the cellar door, andmoved upon it with great difficulty the parallel bars with their ironsupports, from the gymnasium, and several 25-pound dumb-bells, as wellas the heavy vaulting-horse. Reddy and Heady were in favor also ofblocking up the narrow little windows set high in the walls of thecellar, well over the head of the tallest of the Crows; but Tug saidthat these windows were necessary for ventilation, and History wasreminded of the Black Hole of Calcutta, so it was decided to leave thewindows open for the sake of the air, even if it did give the Crows aloophole of possible escape. 

"There's no fun in an affair of this kind if the other side hasn'teven a chance, " said Tug; and this appealed to the Lakerim theory ofsport. 

X

So they all left the gymnasium with its prisoners, and Sawed-Offlocked the door firmly behind him. Then they went at a double-quickfor Moore's restaurant and the waiting banquet, which, they suspected, was by this time growing cold. 

When MacManus left his room he had thrown on a long ulster overcoatwith a very high collar. When this was turned up about his ears itcompletely hid the gag around his mouth, and Tug and Sawed-Off lockedarms with him and hurried him along the poorly lighted streets ofKingston without fear of detection from any passer-by. MacManusdragged his feet and refused to go for a time, till Tug and Sawed-Offhauled him over such rough spots that he preferred to walk. Then, without warning, when they were crossing a slippery place he pushedhis feet in opposite directions and knocked Sawed-Off's and Tug's feetout from under them. But inasmuch as all three of them fell in a heap, with him at the bottom, he decided that this was a poor policy. 

The Dozen were soon at Moore's restaurant; and there, at the door, they found waiting one of the Crows whom they had forgotten to takeinto account. He was the fat boy whom Tug and History had seen hazedjust before their turn came, on the eventful night at Roden's Knoll. 

Having been hazed, and having been taxed, this boy who was known as"Fatty" Warner, was entitled to banquet with the Crows; but hehad been invited out to a bigger supper than he could get at the"Slaughter-house, " and so he did not receive his note, and escaped thefate of the Crows who had been put in cold storage in the gymnasium. 

B. J. And Bobbles, however, took him to one side and told him that theywere afraid they would have to tie him up and put him in a corner withMacManus. But the tears came into his eyes at the thought of sittingand looking at a feast in which he could not take part, and hereminded the Lakerimmers that he had had no share in the attack on Tugand History, and had done nothing to interfere with their escape fromRoden's Knoll, and besides, he had been compelled to pay out hislast cent of spending-money to the Crows for this banquet: So theLakerimmers decided to invite him to join them in eating the feast ofthe enemy. 

Mr. Moore, the proprietor of the village restaurant, had a very badmemory for faces, and when the Lakerimmers came into the room wherethe table was spread, and told him to hurry up with the banquet, itnever occurred to him to ask for a certificate of character from theguests. He was surprised, however, that there were only twelve menwhere he had provided for eighteen or more; but Jumbo said, with atwinkle in his eye:

"The rest of them couldn't come; so we'll eat their share. "

The Lakerimmers grinned at this. Mr. Moore suspected that there wassome joke which he could not understand; but the ways of the Academyboys were always past his comprehension, so he and the waiters camebustling in with the first course of just such a banquet as wouldplease a crowd of academicians, and would give an older person astomach-ache for six weeks. 

Besides, the wise Mr. Moore knew the little habit students have ofpostponing the payment of their bills, and he had insisted upon beingpaid in advance. Poor MacManus suddenly remembered how he had doledout the funds of the Crows for this very spread, and he almost sobbedas he thought of the hard time he had spent in collecting the moneyand preparing the menu--and all for the enjoyment of the hatedLakerimmers, who had already spoiled the final hazing of the year, andwere now giggling and gobbling the precious banquet provided at suchexpense! Mr. Moore wondered at the presence of such a sad-lookingguest at the feast, and wondered why he insisted on abstaining fromthe monstrous delicacies that made the tables groan; but he reasonedthat it was none of his affair, and asked no questions. 

Before they had eaten much the Lakerimmers grew as uncomfortable overthe torment they were inflicting on poor MacManus as the poor MacManuswas himself. And Tug explained to him in a low voice that if he wouldpromise on his solemn honor not to make any disturbance they would beglad to have him as a guest instead of a prisoner. MacManus objectedbitterly for a long time, but the enticing odor drove him almostcrazy, and the sight of the renegade fat boy, who was fairly makinga cupboard of himself, finally convinced the president that it wasbetter to take his ill fortune with a good grace. So he nodded assentto the promises Tug exacted of him, his muffler and overcoat wereremoved, and he was invited to make himself at home; and his miserywas promptly forgotten in the rattle of dishes and the clatter oflaughter and song with which the Dozen reveled in the feast of itsancient enemies. 

The delight of the Lakerimmers in the banquet was no greater than themisery of the Crows whose wings had been clipped, and who had beenleft to flop about in the dark nooks of the chapel. The feast of theDozen had just begun when two of the Crows in the cupola and twoothers in the cellar bethought themselves to roll close to each other, back to back, and untie the knots around each other's wrists. Theywere soon free, and quickly had their fellows liberated and the gagsall removed. But the liberty of hands and feet and tongues, though itleft them free to express their rage, still left them as far as everfrom the banquet which, as they soon suspected, was disappearingrapidly under the teeth of the Lakerimmers. They groped around in thepitch-black darkness, and finally one of the men in the cupola found alittle round window through which he could put his head and yell forhelp. His cry was soon answered by another that seemed to come faintlyfrom the depths of the earth. 

XI

The far-off cry which the six Crows in the cupola heard coming fromthe depths of the earth was raised by the eleven Crows in the cellar. By dint of much yelling the two flocks made their misery known to eachother. The trouble with the cellar party was that it could not get up. The trouble with the cupola crowd was that it could not get down. Andthey seemed to be too far apart to be of much help to each other, forthe cupola Crows had lost little time in lifting the trap-door of thebelfry and finding that the ladder was gone, and none of them washardy--or foolhardy--enough to risk the drop into the uncertain dark. So there they waited in mid-air. 

The cellar Crows, when they had released each other's bonds, andgroped around the jagged walls, and stumbled foolishly over each otherand all the other tripping things in their dungeons, had succeeded inforcing apart the wooden doors between their three cells and joiningforces--or joining weaknesses, rather, because, when they finallyfound the cellar stairs, they also found that, for all the strengththey could throw into their backs and shoulders, they could not liftthe door, with all the heavy weights put on it by the Dozen. Therewere a few matches in the crowd, and they sufficed to reveal thelittle cellar windows. These they reached by forming a human ladder, as the Gauls scaled the walls of Rome (only to find that a flockof silly geese had foiled their plans). But there were no geese todisturb the Crows, and the first of their number managed to wormthrough to the outer air and help up his fellows in misery. 

It seemed for a time, though, as if even this escape were to be cutoff; for a very fat Crow got himself stuck in a little window, and theCrows outside could not pull him through, tug as they would. Then theCrows inside began to pull at his feet and to hang their whole weighton his legs. 

But still he stuck. 

Then they all grew excited, and both the outsiders and the insiderspulled at once, until the luckless fat boy thought they were trying tomake twins of him, and howled for mercy. 

He might have been there to this day had he not managed, by somemysterious and painful wriggle, to crawl through unaided. 

Before long, then, the whole crowd of cellar Crows was standing out inthe cold air and asking the cupola Crows why they didn't come down. 

One of the Crows (Irish by descent) suddenly started off on the run;the others called him back and asked what he was going for. 

"For a clothes-line, " he said. 

"What are you going to do with it?" they asked. 

And he answered:

"Going to throw 'em a rope and pull 'em down. "

Then he wondered why they all groaned. 

The word "rope, " however, suggested an idea to the cupola prisoners, and after much groping they found the bell-rope, and one of them cutoff a good length of it. They fastened it securely then, and slid downto the next floor, whence they made their way without much difficultydown the stairs to the ground. There they found the outer door firmlylocked. Then they felt sadder than over. 

But by this time the hubbub they had raised had brought on the sceneseveral of the instructors, one of whom had a duplicate key of thegymnasium. And they suffered the terrible humiliation of beingreleased by one of the Faculty!

On being questioned as to the cause of such a breach of the peaceof the Academy, all the seventeen Crows attempted to explain thehigh-handed and inexcusable conduct of the wicked Dozen which hadpicked on eighteen defenseless men and made them prisoners. Theinstructor had been a boy himself once, and he could not entirelyconceal a little smile at the thought of the cruelty of the LakerimTwelve. Just then MacManus came by, and with one accord the Crowsexclaimed:

"Where did they tie you up?"

"Down at Moore's restaurant, " said MacManus, sheepishly. 

"Well, what has happened to the banquet?" they exclaimed. 

"It's all eaten!" groaned MacManus. 

"Who ate it?" cawed the Crows. 

"The Dozen!" moaned MacManus. 

And that was the last straw that broke the Crows' backs. 

They threatened all sorts of revenge, and some of the smaller-mindedof them went to the Faculty and suggested that the best thing thatcould be done was to expel the Lakerim men in a body. But, by a littlequestioning, the Faculty learned of the attempted hazing that had beenat the bottom of the whole matter, and decided that the best thing todo was to reprimand and warn both the Crows and the Dozen, and makethem solemnly promise to bury the hatchet. 

Which they did. 

And thus ended one of the bitterest feuds of modern times. 

XII

Now, Heady, who had set the whole kidnapping scheme on foot as soonas he joined the Dozen at Kingston, had brought to the Academy noparticular love for study; but he had brought a great enthusiasm forbasket-ball. 

And this enthusiasm was catching, and he soon had many of theKingstonians working hard in the gymnasium, and organizing scrub teamsto play this most bewilderingly rapid of games. 

Most of the Lakerimmers went in for pure love of excitement; but whenHeady said that it was especially good as an indoor winter exercise tokeep men in trim for football and baseball, Tug and Punk immediatelywent at it with great enthusiasm. 

But Tug was so mixed up in the slight differences between this gameand his beloved football, and so insisted upon running (which isagainst the rules of basket-ball), and upon tackling (which is againstthe rules), and upon kicking (which is against the rules), thathe finally gave up in despair, and said that if he became a goodbasket-ball player he would be a poor football-player. And footballwas his earlier love. 

Sleepy, however, who was the great baseball sharp, made thiscomplaint, in his drawling fashion:

"The rules say you can only hold the ball five seconds, and it takesme at least ten seconds to decide what to do with it; so I guess theblamed game isn't for me. "

Out of the many candidates for the team the following regular fivewere chosen: For center, Sawed-Off, who was tall enough to do the"face-off" in excellent style, and who could, by spreading out hisgreat arms, present in front of an ambitious enemy a surface as bigas a windmill--almost. The right-forward was Heady, and of course theleft-forward had to be his other half, Reddy. Pretty managed by hisskill in lawn-tennis to make the position of right-guard, and theleft-guard was the chief of the Crows, MacManus. The Dozen treatedhim, if not as an equal, at least as one who had a right to be aliveand move about upon the same earth with them. 

The Kingston basket-ball team played many games, and grew in speed andteam-play till they were looked upon as a terror by the rest of theInterscholastic League. 

Finally, indeed, they landed the championship of the variousbasket-ball teams of the academies. But just before they played theirlast triumphant game in the League, and when they were feeling theiroats and acting as rambunctious and as bumptious as a crowd of almostundefeated boys sometimes chooses to be, they received a challengethat caused them to laugh long and loud. At first it looked like ahuge joke for the high-and-mighty Kingston basket-ball team to bechallenged by a team from the Palatine Deaf-and-Dumb Institute; thenit began to look like an insult, and they were angry at such treatmentof such great men as they admitted themselves to be. 

It occurred to Sawed-Off, however, that before they sent back anindignant refusal to play, they might as well look up the record ofthe deaf-and-dumb basket-ball men. After a little investigation, totheir surprise, they found that these men were astoundingly cleverplayers, and had won game after game from the best teams. So theyaccepted the challenge in lordly manner, and in due time thePalatiners appeared upon the floor of the Kingston gymnasium. Alarge audience had gathered and was seated in the gallery where therunning-track ran. 

Among the spectators was that girl to whom both Reddy and Heady weredevoted, the girl who could not decide between them, she liked bothof them so immensely, especially as she herself was the championbasket-ball player among the girls at her seminary. Each of the Twinsresolved that he would not only outdo all the rest of the players uponthe gymnasium floor, but also his bitter rival, his brother. 

There was something uncanny, at first, in the playing of thePalatines, all of whom were deaf-mutes, except the captain, who wasneither deaf nor dumb, but understood and talked the sign language. 

The game opened with the usual face-off. The referee called the twocenters to the middle of the floor, and then tossed the ball highin the air between them. They leaped as far as they could; butSawed-Off's enormous height carried him far beyond the other man, and, giving the ball a smart slap, he sent it directly into the clutch ofReddy, who had run on and was waiting to receive it half over hisshoulder. Finding himself "covered" by the opposing forward, he passedthe ball quickly under the other man's arm across to Heady, who hadrun down the other side of the floor. Heady received the ball withoutobstruction, and by a quick overhead fling landed it in the highbasket, and scored the first point, while applause and wonderment wereloud in the gallery. 

The Kingstonians played like one man--if you can imagine one man withtwenty arms and legs. Sawed-Off made such high leaps, and covered sowell, and sent the ball so well through the forwards, and supportedthem so well; the twin forwards dodged and ran and passed anddribbled the ball with such dash; and the guards were so alert in theprotection of their goal and in obstructing the throwing of the otherforwards, that three goals and the score of six were rolled up in anamazingly short time. 

Sawed-Off was in so many places at once, and kept all four limbs goingso violently, that the spectators began to cheer him on as "GranddaddyLonglegs. " A loud laugh was raised on one occasion, when the Palatinecaptain got the ball, and, holding it high in the air to make atry for goal from the field, found himself covered by the toweringSawed-Off; he curved the ball downward, where one of the Twins leapedfor it in front; then he wriggled and writhed with it till it wasbetween his legs. But there the other Twin was, and with a quick, wringing clutch that nearly tied the opposing captain into a bow-knot, he had the ball away from him. 

At the end of the three goals the Kingstonians began to whisper tothemselves that they had what they were pleased to call a "cinch";they alluded to the Palatines as "easy fruit, " and began to make anumber of fresh and grand-stand plays. The inevitable and properresult of this funny business was that they began to grow careless. The deaf-mutes, unusually alert in other ways on account of the lossof hearing and speech, were quick to see the opportunity, and to playwith unexpected carefulness and dash. 

The swelled heads of the Kingstonians were reduced to normal size whenthe Palatines quickly scored two goals. It began to look as if theywould add a third score when the desperate Reddy, seeing one of thePalatine forwards about to make a try for goal, made a leaping tacklethat destroyed the man's aim and almost upset him. 

Reddy was just secretly congratulating himself upon his breach ofetiquette when the shrill whistle of the referee brought dismay to hisheart. His act was declared a foul, and the Palatines were given a"free throw. " Their left-forward was allowed to take his stand fifteenfeet from the basket and have an unobstructed try at it. The throw wassuccessful, and the score now stood 6 to 5 in favor of Kingston. 

The game went rapidly on, and at one stage the ball was declared"held" by the referee, and it was faced off well toward the Palatinegoal. Sawed-Off made a particularly high leap in the air and anunusually fierce whack at the ball. 

To his chagrin, it went up into the gallery and struck the girl towhom the Twins were so devoted, smack upon her pretty snub nose. Though the blow was hard enough to bring tears to her bright eyes, shesmiled, and with a laugh and a blush picked up the ball and dropped itover the rail. 

The Twins both made a dash to receive this gift from her pretty hands, and in consequence bumped into each other and fell apart. 

The ball which they had robbed each other of fell into the clutch ofPretty, who made the girl a graceful bow that quite won her heart. Pretty was, by the way, always cutting the other fellows out. This wasthe only grudge they ever had against him. 

The Twins were now more rattled than ever; and Heady determined todo or die. He saw one of the Palatines running forward and lookingbackward to receive the ball on a long pass, and he gave him a viciousbody-check. He knew it was a foul at the time, but he thought thereferee was not looking. His punishment was fittingly double, for notonly did the referee see and declare the foul, but the big Palatinecame with such impetus that he knocked Heady galley-west. Heady wentscraping along a row of single sticks and wooden dumb-bells, making anoise like the rattle of a board along a picket fence. 

Then he tumbled in a heap, with the Palatine man on top of him. Asthe Palatine man got up, he dislodged a number of Indian clubs, whichfairly pelted the prostrate Heady. This foul gave the Palatinesanother free throw, and made the score a tie. 

XIII

The Twins were now so angry and ashamed of themselves that they playedworse than ever. 

Everything seemed to go wrong with them. Their passes were blocked;their tries for goal failed; the Palatines would not even help themout with a foul. In their general disorder of plan, they could donothing to prevent the Palatines from making goal after goal till, when the referee's whistle announced that the first twenty-minute halfwas over, the score stood 12 to 6 against Kingston. 

The Twins were feeling sore enough as it was, but when they went tothe dressing-room dripping with sweat and gasping for breath fromtheir hard exertions, Tug appeared to rub salt into their wounds by alittle lecture upon their shortcomings and fargoings. 

"Heady, " he said, "I guess you have been away from us a little toolong. The Lakerim Athletic Club never approved of foul playing on thepart of itself or any one else, and you got just what you deserved forforgetting your dignity. I suppose Reddy got the disease from you. ButI want to say right here that you have got to play like Lakerim men orthere is going to be trouble. "

The Twins realized the depths of their disgrace before Tug spoke, andthey were too much humiliated in their own hearts to resent his loftytone. They determined to wipe the disgrace out in the only way itcould be effaced: by brilliant, clean playing in the second half ofthe game. 

When the intermission was over, they went in with such vim that theybroke up all the plans of the Palatines for gaining goal, and put themto a very fierce defensive game. Heady soon scored a goal by passingthe ball back to Reddy and then running forward well into Palatineterritory, and receiving it on a long pass, and tossing it into thebasket before he could be obstructed. 

But this ray of hope was immediately dimmed by the curious action ofMacManus, who, forgetting that he was not on the football field, andreceiving the ball unexpectedly, made a brilliant run down the fieldwith it, carrying it firmly against his body. He was brought back witha hang-dog expression and the realization that he had unconsciouslyplayed foul and given the Palatines another free throw, which madetheir score 13 to 8. 

A little later Reddy, finding himself with his back to the Palatinegoal, and all chance of passing the ball to his brother foiled by thelarge overshadowing form of the Palatine captain, determined to make along shot at luck, and threw the ball backward over his head. 

A loud yell and a burst of applause announced that fortune had favoredhim: he had landed the ball exactly in the basket. 

But Heady went him one better, for he made a similarly marvelous goalwith a smaller element of luck. Finding himself in a good position fora try, he was about to send the ball with the overhead throw that isusual, when he was confronted by a Palatine guard, who completelycovered all the space in front of the diminutive Heady. Like a flashHeady dropped to the floor in a frog-like attitude, and gave the balla quick upward throw between the man's outspread legs and up into thebasket. 

And now the audience went wild indeed at seeing two such plays as havebeen seen only once or twice in the history of the game. 

With the score of 13 to 12 in their favor, the Palatines made a strongrally, and prevented the Kingstonians from scoring. They were tired, and evidently thought that their safety lay in sparring for time. Andthe referee seemed willing to aid them, for his watch was in his hand, and the game had only the life of a few seconds to live, when the ballfell into the hands of Heady. The desperate boy realized that nowhe had the final chance to retrieve the day and wrest victory fromdefeat. He was far, far from the basket, but he did not dare to riskthe precious moment in dribbling or passing the ball. The only hopelay in one perfect throw. He held the ball in his hands high over hishead, and bent far back. He straightened himself like a bow when thearrow of the Indian leaves its side. He gave a spring into the air, and launched the ball at the little basket. It soared on an arc asbeautiful as a rainbow's. It landed full in the basket. 

But the force of the blow was so great that the ball choggled aboutand bounded out upon the rim. There it halted tantalizingly, rolledaround the edge of the basket, trembled as if hesitating whether togive victory to the Palatines or the Kingstons. 

After what seemed an age of this dallying, it slowly dropped--

To the floor. 

A deep, deep sigh came from the lips of all, even the Palatines. Anddown into the hearts of the Twins there went a solemn pain. They hadlost the game--that was bad enough; but they knew that they deservedto lose it, that their own misplays had brought their own punishment. But they bore their ordeal pluckily, and when, the next week, they metanother team, they played a clean, swift game that won them stainlesslaurels. 

XIV

Snow-time set Quiz to wondering what he could do to occupy his sparemoments; for the drifts were too deep for him to continue his belovedpastime of bicycling, and he had to put his wheel out of commission. So he went nosing about, trying a little of everything, and beingsatisfied with nothing. 

The Academy hockey team, of which Jumbo was the leader, was workingout a fine game and making its prowess felt among the rival teams ofthe Tri-State Interscholastic League. But hockey did not interestQuiz; for though he could almost sleep on a bicycle without fallingover, when he put on a pair of skates you might have thought that hewas trying to turn somersaults or describe interrogation-points in theair. 

It was a little cold for rowing, --though Quiz pulled a very decentoar, --and the shell would hardly go through the ice at an interestingspeed. Indoor work in the gymnasium was also too slow for Quiz, and hewas asking every one what pastime there was to interest a young manwho required speed in anything that was to hold his attention. 

At length he bethought him of a sport he had seen practised duringa visit he paid once to some relatives in Minnesota, where the manyNorwegian immigrants practised the art of running upon the skies. Atfirst sight this statement looks as if it might have come out of theadventures of that trustworthy historian, Baron Münchhäusen. But theskies you are thinking of are not the skies I mean. 

The Scandinavian skies are not blue, and they are not overhead, butunderfoot. Of course you know all about the Norwegian ski, but perhapsyour younger brother does not, so I will say for his benefit that theski is a sort of Norwegian snow-shoe, only it is almost as swift asthe seven-league boots. When you put it on you look as if you had atoboggan on each foot; for it is a strip of ash half an inch thick, half a dozen inches wide, and some ten feet long; the front end of itpointed and turned up like that of a toboggan. 

When you first get the things on, or, rather, get on them, you learnthat, however pleasant they may grow to be as servants, they arecertainly pretty bad masters; and you will find that the groove whichis run in the bottom of the skies to prevent their spreading is ofvery little assistance, for they seem to have a will of their own, andalso a bitter grudge against each other: they step on each other onemoment, and make a wild bolt in opposite directions the next, andbehave generally like a pair of unbroken colts. 

Quiz had once learned to walk on snow-shoes. He grew to be quitean adept, indeed, and could take a two-foot hurdle with littledifficulty. But he soon found that so far from being a help, hisfamiliarity with the snow-shoe was a great hindrance. 

The mode of walking on a Canadian snow-shoe, which he had learned withsuch difficulty, had to be completely unlearned before he could beginto make progress with the Scandinavian footgear. For in snow-shoewalking the feet must be lifted straight up and then carried forwardbefore they are planted, and any attempt to slide them forward makes awoeful tangle; to try to lift the ski off the ground, however, is toinvite ridiculous distress, and the whole art of scooting on the skiis in the long, sliding motion. It is a sort of skating on incrediblylong skates that must not be lifted from the snow. 

Quiz had the skies made by a Kingston carpenter; and he was so proudof them that, when a crowd gathered to see what he was going to dowith the mysterious slats, he proceeded to make his first attempt inan open space in the Academy campus. He put the skies down on thesnow, slipped his toes into the straps, and, sweeping a proud glancearound among the wondering Kingstonians, dashed forward in his oldsnow-shoe fashion. 

It took the Kingstonians some seconds to decide which was Quiz andwhich was ski. For the skittish skies skewed and skedaddled andskulked and skipped and scrubbed and screwed and screamed and scrawledand scooped and scrabbled and scrambled and scambled and scumbledand scraped and scrunched and scudded and scuttled and scuffledand skimped and scattered in such scandalous scampishness that thescornful scholars scoffed. 

Quiz quit. 

The poor boy was so laughed at for days by the whole Academy that hisspunk was finally aroused. He got out again the skies he had hiddenaway in disgust, and practised upon them in the fields, at a distancefrom the campus, until he had finally broken the broncos and made aswift and delightful team of them. He soon grew strong enough to glidefor hours at a high rate of speed without weariness, and the skibecame a serious rival to the bicycle in his affections. 

He learned to shoot the hills at a breathless rate, climbing upswiftly to the top; then, with feet apart, but even, zipping like anexpress-train down the steep incline and far along the level below. 

He even risked his bones by attempting the rash deeds of oldski-runners. Reaching an embankment, he would retire a littledistance, and then rush forward to the brink and leap over into theair, lighting on the ground below far out, steadying himself quickly, and shooting on at terrific pace. 

But this rashness brought its own punishment--as fool-hardinessusually does. 

[Illustration: "QUIZ LEARNED TO SHOOT THE HILLS AT A BREATHLESSRATE. "]

XV

At dinner, one Saturday, Quiz had broken out in exclamations ofdelight over his pet skies, and had begun to complain about the timewhen spring should drive away the blessed winter. 

"I can't get enough of the snow, " he exclaimed. 

"Oh, can't you?" said Jumbo, ominously. 

Quiz could hardly finish his dinner, so impatient was he to be up andoff again, over the hills and far away. When he had gone, Jumbo askedthe other Lakerimmers if they had not noticed how exclusive Quiz wasbecoming, and how little they saw of him. He said, also, that he didnot approve of Quiz' rushing all over the country alone and takingfoolish risks for the sake of a little solitary fun. 

The Lakerimmers agreed that something should be done; and Jumboreminded them of Quiz' remark that he could not get enough snow, andsuggested a plan that, he thought, might work as a good medicine onhim. 

That afternoon Quiz seemed to have quite lost his head over hisski-running. He felt that there were signs of a thaw in the air, andhe proposed that this snow should not fade away before he had indulgedin one grand, farewell voyage. He struck off into the country by anew road, and at such a speed that he was soon among unfamiliarsurroundings. 

As the day began to droop toward twilight he decided that it was hightime to be turning back toward Kingston. He looked about for one lastembankment to shoot before he retraced his course. 

Far in the distance he thought he saw a fine, high bluff, and hehurried toward it with delicious expectation. When he had reached thebrink he looked down and saw that the bluff ended in a little body ofwater hardly big enough to be called a lake. After measuring the dropwith his eye, and deciding that while it was higher than anything hehad ever shot before, it was just risky enough to be exciting, he wentback several steps, came forward with a good impetus, and launchedhimself fearlessly into the air like the aëronaughty Darius Green. 

He launched himself fearlessly enough, but he was no sooner in mid-airthan he began to regret his rashness. It was rather late now, though, to be thinking of that, and he realized that nothing could save himfrom having a sudden meeting with the bottom of the hill. 

He lost his nerve in his excitement, and crossed his skies, so thatwhen he struck, instead of sailing forward like the wind, he stuck andwent headforemost. Fortunately, one of his skies broke--instead ofmost of his bones; and a very kind-hearted snow-bank appeared like afeather-bed, and somewhat checked the force of his fall. But, for allthat, he was soon rolling over and over down the hill, and he landedfinally on a thin spot in the ice of the lake, and crashed throughinto the water up to his waist. 

Now he was so panic-stricken that he scrambled frantically out. Hecast one sorry glance up the hill, and saw there the pieces into whichhis ski had cracked, as well as the pathway he himself had cleared inthe snow as he came tumbling down. Then he looked for the other ski, and realised that it was far away under the ice. 

He was now so cold, that, dripping as he was, he would not have wadedinto the lake again to grope around for the other ski if that ski hadbeen solid gold studded with diamonds. 

Plainly, the only thing to do was to make for home, and that rightquickly, before night came on and he lost his way, and the pneumoniagot him. 

It was a very different story, trudging back through the snow-driftsin the twilight, from flitting like a butterfly on the ski. Herealized now that his legs were tired from the long run he had enjoyedso much. He lost his way, too, time and again; and when he came to across-roads and had to guess for himself which path to take, somehowor other he seemed always to take the wrong one, and to plod along ituntil he met some farmer to put him on the right path to Kingston. Butthough he met many a farmer, he seemed to find never a wagon going hisway, or even a hospitable-looking farm-house. 

He was still miles away from Kingston when lamp-lighting time came. Alittle gleam came cheerfully toward him out of the dark. He hurriedto it, thinking of the fine supper the kind-hearted farmers woulddoubtless give him, when, just as he reached the gate of thedoor-yard, there was a most blood-curdling uproar, and two or threefurious dogs came bounding shadowily toward him. 

He lost no time in deciding that supper, after all, was a ratheruseless invention, and Kingston much preferable. 

Previously to this, Quiz had always understood that the dog was themost kind-hearted of animals, but it was months after that nightbefore he could hear the mere name of a canine without shuddering. 

Well, a boy can cover any distance imaginable, --even the path to themoon, --if he only has the strength and the time. So Quiz finallyreached the outskirts of Kingston. 

His long walk had dried and warmed him somewhat; but he was miserablytired, and he felt that his stomach was as empty as the Desert ofSahara. At last, though, he reached the campus, and dragged heavilyalong the path to his dormitory. 

He stopped at Tug's to see if Tug had any remains left of the latestbox of good things from home; but no answer came to his knock, and hewent sadly up to the next Lakerim room. But that was empty too, andall of the others of the Dozen were away. 

For they had become alarmed at Quiz' absence, and started out insearch of him, as they had once before set forth on the trail of Tugand History. 

[Illustration: "Jumbo saw a pair of flashing eyes glaring at him overthe coverlet. "]

By the time Quiz reached his room he was too tired to be very hungry, and he decided that his bed would be Paradise enough. So, all cold andweary as he was, he hastily peeled off his clothes, and blew out thelight. He shivered at the very thought of the coldness of the sheets, but he fairly flung himself between them. 

Just one-tenth of a second he spent in his downy couch, and thenleaped out on the floor with a howl. He remembered suddenly the lookJumbo had given him at dinner when he had said he could not get snowenough. 

Jumbo and the other fiends from Lakerim had filled the lower half ofhis bed with it!

 * * * * *

Late that night, when the eleven Lakerimmers came back, weary fromtheir long search, and frightened at not finding Quiz, Jumbo wentto his room with a sad heart. When he lighted his lamp and lookedlongingly toward his downy bed, he saw a pair of flashing eyes glaringat him over the coverlet. They were the eyes of Quiz; and within easyreach lay a baseball bat and several large lumps of coal. But all Quizsaid was:

"Excuse me for getting into your bed, Jumbo. You are perfectly welcometo mine. "

XVI

But, speaking of cold, you ought to hear about the great fire companythat was organized at the Academy. 

The town of Kingston was not large enough or rich enough to support afull-fledged fire department with paid firemen and trained horses. It had nothing but an old-fashioned engine, a hose-cart, and aladder-truck, all of which had to be drawn by two-footed steeds, thevolunteer firemen of the village. 

The Lakerimmers had not been in Kingston many weeks before they heardthe fire-bell lift its voice. It was not more than twenty minutesbefore the Kingston fire department appeared galloping along the roughroad in front of the campus at a fearsome speed of about six miles anhour. 

Several of the horses wore long white beards, and others of them wereso fat that they added more weight than power to the team. 

Such of the academicians as had no classes at that hour followed thesechamping chargers to the scene of the fire. 

It turned out to be a woodshed, which was as black and useless as aburnt biscuit by the time the fire department arrived. 

But the Volunteers had the pleasure of dropping a hose down the wellof the owner of the late lamented woodshed, and pumping the well dry. The Volunteers thus bravely extinguished three fence-posts that hadcaught fire from the woodshed, and then turned for home, proud in theconsciousness of duty performed. They felt sure that they had savedthe village from a second Chicago fire. 

Jumbo said that the department ought not to be called the Volunteers, but the Crawfishes. B. J. , who had a scientific turn of mind, said thathe had an idea for a great invention. 

"The world revolves from west to east at the rate of a thousand milesan hour, " he said. 

"I've heard so, " broke in Jumbo, "but you can't believe everything yousee in print. "

B. J. Brushed him aside, and went on:

"Now, all you've got to do is to invent a scheme for raising yourfire-engine and your firemen up in the air a few feet, and holdingthem still while the earth revolves under them. Then you turn a kindof a wheel, or something, when the place you want to get to comesaround, and there you are in a jiffy. It would beat the Empire StateExpress all hollow. Why, it would be faster even than an ice-boat!"he exclaimed enthusiastically. "I guess I'll have to get that ideapatented. "

"But say, B. J. , " said Bobbles, in a puzzled manner, "suppose your firewas in the other direction? You'd have to go clear around the world toget to the place. "

"I didn't think of that, " said B. J. , dejectedly. 

And thus one of the greatest inventions of the age was leftuninvented. 

 * * * * *

But Tug had also been set to thinking by the snail-like Kingstonfiremen. 

"What this place really needs, " he said, "is some firemen that canrun. They want more speed and less rheumatism. Now, if we fellowscould only join the department we'd show 'em a few things. "

"Why can't we?" said Punk, always ready to carry out another'ssuggestion. 

"George Washington was a volunteer fireman, " was History'sever-present reminder from the books. 

The scheme took like wild-fire with the Dozen, and after a conferencein which the twelve heads got as close together as twenty-four largefeet would permit, it was decided to ask permission of the AcademyFaculty and of the town trustees. 

The Kingston Faculty was of the general opinion that it isordinarily--though by no means always--the best plan to allow restlessboys to carry out their own schemes. If the scheme is a bad one theywill be more likely to be convinced of it by putting it into practicethan by being told that it is bad, and forbidden to attempt it. So, after long deliberation, they consented to permit half a dozen of thelarger Lakerim fellows to join the volunteer department. 

Fires were not frequent, and most of the buildings of the village wereso small that little risk was to be feared. 

The trustees of the village saw little harm in allowing theacademicians to drag their heavy trucks for them, and promised thatthey would not permit the boys to rush into any dangerous places. 

In a short while, then, the half-dozen were full-fledged firemen, withred flannel shirts, rubber boots, and regulation hats. The Lakerimmerswere so proud of their new honor that they wanted to wear theirgorgeous uniforms in the class-rooms. But the heartless Faculty putits foot down hard on this. 

The very minute the six--Tug, Punk, Sleepy, B. J. , and the Twins--weresafely installed as Volunteers, it seemed that the whole town hadsuddenly become fire-proof. 

The boys could neither study their lessons nor recite them with morethan half a mind, for they had always one ear raised for the sound ofthe delightful fire-bell. They always hoped that when the fire wouldcome it would be in the midst of a recitation; and Sleepy constantlyfailed to prepare himself at all, in the hope that at the criticalmoment he would be rescued from flunking by a call to higherduties. But fate was ironical, and after two or three weeks of thisnerve-wearing existence the Volunteers began to lose hope. 

One Saturday afternoon, when the roads were frozen into ruts as hardand sharp as iron, and when the Dozen had just started forth to take anumber of pretty girls to see a promising hockey game, the villainousold fire-bell began to call for help. 

The half-dozen regretted for a moment that they had ever volunteeredto be Volunteers; but they would not shirk their duty, and instantlydashed toward the shed where the fire department was stored. Theywere there long before any of the older Volunteers, and had a long, impatient wait. Then there were all manner of delays; breakages had tobe repaired and axles greased before a start could be properly made. But at last they were off, tearing down the rough roads at a speedthat made the older firemen plead for mercy. 

The alarm had come from a man who had been painting a church steeple, and had seen a cloud of smoke in the direction of the "Mitchellplace, " a large farm-house some little distance out of the villagelimits. 

There was a fine exhilaration about the run until they reached theedge of the town, and began to drag the bouncing, jouncing cart overthe miserable country road. Still they tugged on, going slower andslower, and the older Volunteers letting go of the rope and falling bythe wayside like the wounded at the hill of San Juan. 

Finally even the half-dozen had to slacken speed, too, and walk, forfear of losing the whole fire department--the chief had already givenout in exhaustion, and insisted upon climbing on one of the trucksand riding the rest of the way. But at length, somehow or other, theKingston Volunteers reached the farm-house at a slow walk, theirtongues almost hanging out of their mouths, and their breath coming ingasps. 

Strange to say, there were no signs of excitement at the Mitchellplace, though a great cloud of black smoke poured from a huge hollowsycamore-tree that had been cut off about ten feet from the ground, and was used as a primitive smoke-house. 

The Volunteers looked at this tree, and then at one another, without aword. Then Mr. Mitchell came slowly toward his gate, and asked why hehad been honored with such a visit. 

The only one that had breath enough to say a word was the fire chief, who had ridden the latter part of the way. He explained the alarm, andasked the cause of the smoke. 

Mr. Mitchell drawled: "Wawl, I'm jest a-curin' some hams. "

As they all pegged dismally homeward, the half-dozen thought thatMr. Mitchell had also just about cured six Volunteers. And when thehalf-dozen took off their red flannel shirts that day, they no longerlooked upon them as red badges of courage, but rather as a sort ofpenitentiary uniform. 

The fire department of Kingston had such another long snooze that thehalf-dozen began now to rejoice in the hope that there would not beanother fire before vacation-time. They had almost forgotten that theywere Volunteers, and went about their studies and pastimes with thefine care-freedom of glorious boyhood. 

 * * * * *

Then came a cold wave suddenly out of the West--a tidal wave of bitterwinds and blizzardy snow-storms, that sent the mercury down into theshoes of the thermometer. 

Things froze up with a snap that you could almost hear. 

It seemed that it would be impossible even to put a nose out of thewarm rooms without hearing a sudden crackle, and seeing it drop to theground, and the ears after it. The very stoves had to be coaxed andcoddled to keep warm. 

Jumbo said: "Why, I have to button my overcoat around my stove, andfeed it with coal in a teaspoon, to keep it from freezing to death!"

The academicians went to and from their classes on the dead run, andeven the staid professors scampered along the slippery paths with morethought of speed than of dignity. 

That night was the coldest that the oldest inhabitant of Kingstoncould remember. The very winds seemed to be tearing madly about, trying to keep warm, and screaming with pain, they were so cold! Ugh!my ears tingle to think of it. The Lakerimmers piled the coal high intheir stoves, and piled their overcoats, and even the rugs from thefloor, over their beds. 

Sleepy, whose blood was so slow that he was never warm enough inwinter and never very warm in summer, even spread all the newspapershe could find inside his bed, and crawled in between them, havingheard that paper is one of the warmest of coverings. The journalscrackled like, popcorn every time he moved; but he moved very littleand it would have been a loud noise indeed that could have kept himawake. 

At a very early hour, then, the Volunteers and the rest of the Dozenwere as snug as bugs in rugs. 

And then, --oh, merciless fate!--at the coldest and dismalest hour ofthe whole twenty-four, when the night is about over and the day is notbegun, at about 3 A. M. , what, oh, what! should sound, even above thehowls of the wind and the rattlings of the windows and doors, but thatfiend of a fire-bell!

It clanged and banged and clamored and boomed and pounded its way eventhrough the harveyized armor-plate of the Lakerim ship of sleep. 

Tug was the first to wake, and his heart almost stopped with horror ofthe time the old bell had chosen for making itself heard. Tug was abrave boy, and he had a high sense of responsibility; but he had alsoa high sense of the comfort of a good warm bed on a bitter cold night, and he lay there, his heart torn up like a battle-field, where the twoangels of duty and evil fought bitterly. And he was perfectly willingto give them plenty of time to fight it out to a finish. 

 * * * * *

In another room of the dormitory there was another struggle going on, though it would be rather flattering to say that they were angels whowere struggling. The Twins had wakened at the same moment, and eachhad pretended to be asleep at first. Then each had remembered thatmisery loves company, and each had jabbed the other in the ribs, atthe same time. 

"What bell is that?" Reddy had asked Heady, and Heady had asked Reddy, at the same instant. 

"It's that all-fired fire-bell!" both exclaimed, each answering theother's question and his own. 

"Jee-minetly! but this is a pretty time for that old thing to breakout!" wailed Reddy. 

"It ought to be ashamed of itself, " moaned Heady. 

"It's too bad, " said Reddy; "but a fireman mustn't mind the wind orthe weather. "

"That's so, " sighed Heady, "but I'm sorry for you. "

"What!" cried Reddy, "you're sorry for _me_! What's the matter withyourself?"

"Why, I couldn't possibly think of going out such a night as this, "explained Heady; "you know I haven't been at all well for the last fewdays. "

"Oh, haven't you!" complained Reddy. "Well, you're twice as well as Iam, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself to shirk your duty thisway. "

"Duty! Humph! There's nothing the matter with you! It would becriminal for me, though, to go out a night like this, feeling as I do. Mother would never forgive me. But you had better hurry, or you'll belate, " urged Heady. 

"Hurry nothing!" said Reddy. "I'm surprised, though, to see you tryingto pretend that you're sick, and trying to send me out on a terriblenight like this when you _know_ I'm really sick. "

Then the quarrel waxed fiercer and fiercer, until they quit usingwords and began to apply hands and feet. It was not many minutesbefore each had kicked the other out of bed, and each had carried halfof the bedclothing with him. 

Neither of them remained any longer than was necessary on the coldfloor, but each grabbed up his half of the bedding, and rolled himselfup in it, and lay down with great dignity as far away from the otheras he could get, even though he hung far over the edge. 

But the covers had been none too warm all together, and now, dividedinto half, the Twins were soon shivering in misery. They stood itas long as they could, and then, as if by a silent agreement, theydecided to declare a peace, and each remarked:

"I guess we're both too sick to go out such a night as this. " And theywere soon asleep again. 

* * * * *

When Punk heard the fire-bell, his heart grew bitter at the thought ofthe still bitterer night. He did not think it proper for one ofhis conservative nature to violate all the rules of health andself-respect by going out in such rowdy weather. 

He peeked over the edge of his coverlet, and saw that his stove wasstill glowing, and that his own room was not on fire. 

Then he reached out one quick arm and pulled his slippers into bedwith him, and when they were warm enough put them on his feet, wrappedhimself up well, and, running to the window, raised it quickly, thrusthis head out, and looked up and down the campus. This quick glancesatisfied him of two things: first, that none of the beloved Academybuildings were on fire; and second, that he was never much interestedin the old village, anyway. 

So he toddled back to his cozy bed. 

B. J. Was sleeping so soundly that the fire-bell could not wake him; itsimply rang in his ears and mingled with his dreams. In the land ofdreams he went to all sorts of fires, and saved thirty or forty lives, mainly of beautiful maidens in top stories of blazing palaces. Hisdreamland rescues were as heroic as any one could desire, but that wasas near as he came to answering the call of the Kingston alarm. 

 * * * * *

As for Sleepy, it is doubtful if the bell would have awakened him ifit had been suspended from his bed-post; but from where it was itnever reached even to his dreams, if, indeed, even dreams could havewormed their way into his solid slumbers. 

 * * * * *

Tug's conscience, however, was giving him a sharper pain than hesuffered at the thought of the night outside. At length he could standthe thought of being found wanting in his duty, no longer. 

He flung himself out of bed and into his clothes, his teeth beating atattoo, his knees fighting a boxing-match, and his hands all thumbswith the cold. Then he put on two pairs of trousers, three coats, andan overcoat, two caps, several mufflers, and a pair of heavy mittensover a pair of gloves, and flew down the stairs and dived out into thestorm like a Russian taking a plunge-bath in an icy stream. Fairlyplowing through the freezing winds, along the cinder paths he hurried, and down the clattering board walks of the village to the building ofthe fire department. 

He met never a soul upon the arctic streets, and he found never a soulat the meeting-place of the all-faithful Volunteers. What amazed himmost was that he found not even a man there to ring the bell. Therope, however, was flouncing about in the wind, and the bell itselfwas still thundering alarums over the town. 

Tug's first thought at this discovery was--spooks! As is usual withpeople who do not believe in ghosts, they were the first things hethought of as an explanation of a mysterious performance. 

His second thought was the right one. The hurricane had ripped off theboarding about the bell, and the wind itself was the bell-ringer. 

With a sigh of the utmost tragedy, Tug turned back toward his room. Hewas colder now than ever, and by the time he reached the dormitory hewas too nearly frozen to stop and upbraid Punk and the other derelictswho had proved false at a crisis that also proved false. 

The next morning, however, he gathered them all in his room and readthem a severe lecture. They had been a disgrace to the Lakerim ideal, he insisted, and they had only luck, and not themselves, to credit forthe fact that they were not made the laughing-stock of the town andthe Academy. 

And that day the half-dozen sent in its resignation from the volunteerfire department of the village of Kingston. 

XVII

It was not long after this that the Christmas vacation hove in sight, and the Dozen forgot the blot upon its escutcheon in the thought ofthe delight that awaited it in renewing acquaintance with its mothersand other best girls at Lakerim, not to mention the cronies in theclub-house. Each had his plans for making fourteen red-letter days outof the two weeks they were to spend at home. Peaceful thoughts filledthe hearts of most of them, but B. J. Dreamed chiefly of the furiousconflicts that awaited him on the lake, which had been the scene ofmany an adventure in his mettlesome ice-boat. 

The last days crawled painfully by for all of them, and the Dozen grewmore and more meek as they became more and more homesick for theirmothers. They were boys indeed now, and until they reached the oldtown; but there there was such a cordial reception for them fromthe whole village--fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, best girls, cronies, and even dogs--that by the time they had reached theclub-house which had been built by their own efforts, and in whichthey were recorded on a beautiful panel as the charter members, theyfelt that they were aged, white-haired veterans returning to somebattle-field where they were indeed famous. 

A reception was given in their honor at the club-house, and Tug madea speech, and the others gave various more or less ridiculous andimpressive exhibitions of their grandeur. 

After a day or two of this glory, however, they became fellow-citizenswith the rest of the villagers, and were content to sit around theclub-room and tell stories of the grand old days when the LakerimAthletic Club had no club-house to cover its head--the days when theyfought so hard for admission to the Tri-State Interscholastic Leagueof Academies. They were, to tell the truth, though, just a littledisappointed, in the inside of their hearts, that the successors leftbehind to carry on the club were doing prosperously, winning athleticvictories, and paying off the debt in fine style--quite as well as ifthey themselves had been there. 

The most popular of the story-tellers was B. J. , whose favorite andmost successful yarn was the account of the great ice-boat adventure, when the hockey team was wrecked upon Buzzard's Rock, and spent thenight in the snow-drifts, with the blizzard howling outside. Thememory of that terrible escape made the blood run cold in the veins ofthe other members of the club; but it aroused in B. J. Only a new andirresistible desire to be off again upon the same adventure-hunt. 

Now, B. J. 's father was an enthusiastic sailor--fortunately, not sorash a sailor as his son, but quite as great a lover of a "flowingsail. " Wind-lover as he was, he could not spend a winter idly, andturned his attention to ice-boating. 

He owned a beautiful modern vessel made of basswood, butternut, andpine, with rigging all of steel, and a runner-plank as springy as anumbrella frame. She carried no more than four hundred square feet ofsail; but when he gave her the whip, and let her take to her heels, she outran the fleetest wind that ever swept the lake. 

And she skipped and sported along near the railroad track, where theexpress-train raced in vain with her; for she could make her sixtymiles an hour or more without gasping for breath. 

She was named _Greased Lightning_. 

Now, B. J. 's father had ample cause to be suspicious of that youngman's discretion, and he never permitted him to take the boat outalone, good sailor as he knew his son to be; so B. J. Had to contenthimself with parties of boys and girls hilarious with the cold andspeed, and wrapped up tamely in great blankets, under the charge ofhis father, who was a more than cautious sailor, being as wise as hewas old, and seeing the foolishness of those pleasures which dependonly on risking bone and body. 

But B. J. Was wretched, and chafed under the restraint of suchrespectable amusement--with girls, too!

And when, in the midst of the holidays, his father was called outof town, B. J. Went to bed, and could hardly fall asleep under theconspiracies he began to form for eloping on one last escapade withthe ice-boat. 

He woke soon after daybreak, the next morning, and hurried to hiswindow. There he found a gale of wind blowing and lashing the earthwith a furious rain. The wind he received with welcoming heart, butthe rain sent terror there; for it told him that the ice would soondisappear, and he would be sent back to Kingston Academy, with never achance to let loose the _Greased Lightning_. 

"It is now or never!" mumbled B. J. , clenching his teeth after themanner of all well-regulated desperados. 

XVIII

He sneaked into his clothes, and descended the cold, creakingstaircase in his stocking-feet. Then he put on his rubber boots, andstole out of the house like a burglar. 

The wind would have wrecked any umbrella alive; but he cared naughtfor the rain, and hurried down the street where the Twins weresleeping the sleep of the righteous. He threw pebbles at their windowstill they were awakened; and after a proper amount of deliberation inwhich each requested the other to go to the window, both went hand inhand on their shivering toes. 

When they had leaned out and learned what B. J. Invited them to, theyreminded him that he was either crazy or walking in his sleep. 

But B. J. Answered back that they were either talking in their sleep orwere "cowardy calves. "

The worst of all fools is the one that is afraid to take a dare; andthe Twins were--well, let us say they were not yet wide enough awaketo know what they were doing. At any rate, they could not stand thebanter of B. J. , and had soon joined him in the soaking storm outside. 

When the lake was reached the Twins were more than ever convinced thatB. J. Was more than ever out of his head; for, instead of the smoothmirror they had been accustomed to gliding over in the boat, theyfound that the ice was covered with an inch of slush and water. 

The sky above was not promising and blue, nor did the wind have amerry whizz; but it laughed like a maniac, and shrieked and threatenedthem, warning them to go back home or take most dreadful consequences. 

B. J. , however, would not listen to the advice they tendered him, butwent busily about getting the sails up and preparing the boat for thevoyage. 

The Twins were still pleading with B. J. To have some regard for thedictates of common sense, when he began to haul in the sheet-rope andput the helm down; and they had barely time to leap aboard before theboat was away. 

They felt, indeed, that they were sailing in a regular sloop, andthat, too, going "with lee rail awash"; for instead of the softcrooning sound the runners made usually, there was a slash and aswish of ripples cloven apart; and instead of the little fountains ofice-dust which rise from the heels of the sharp shoes when the boat isskimming the frozen surface, there rose long spurting sprays of water. 

The Twins reproached each other bitterly for coming on such a wildventure. But they did not know how really sorry they were till theygot well out on the lake, where the wind caught them with full forceand proved to be a very gale of fury. The mast writhed and squealed, and the sails groaned and wrenched, as if they would fairly rip theboat apart. 

The world seemed one vast vortex of hurricane; and yet, for all thewind that was frightening them to death, the Twins seemed to find itimpossible to get enough to breathe. It was bitter, bitter cold, too, and Reddy's hands and feet reminded him only of the bags of crackedice they put on his forehead once when he had a severe fever. 

B. J. , however, was as happy as the Twins were miserable, and he yelledand shouted in ecstatic glee. Now he was a gang of cow-boys at around-up; now he was a band of Apache Indians circling fiendishlyaround a crew of those inland sailors who used to steer theirprairie-schooners across the West. 

Before the Twins could imagine it, the boat had reached the oppositeside of the lake, and it was necessary to come about. Suddenly theskipper had thrown her head into, the wind, the jib and mainsail wereclattering thunderously, and the boom went slashing over like a clubin the hands of a giant. Before the Twins had dared to lift theirheads again, there was a silence, and the sails began to fill and theboat to resume her speed quickly in a new direction. In a moment the_Greased Lightning_ was well under way along a new leg, and sailing asclose as B. J. Could hold her. 

And now, as the Twins glared with icy eyeballs into the mist ahead, suddenly they both made out a thin black line drawn as if by a greatpencil across the lake in front of them. 

"Watch out, B. J. , " they cried; "we are coming to an enormous crack. "

"Hooray for the crack!" was all the answer they got from the intrepidB. J. 

And now, instead of their rushing toward the crack, it seemed to beflying at them, widening like the jaws of a terrible dragon. But theice-boat was as fearless and as gaily jaunty as Siegfried. Straight atthe black maw with bits of floating ice like the crunching white teethof a monster, the boat held its way. 

Neatly as the boy Pretty ever skimmed a hurdle in a hurdle-race, the boat skimmed the gulf of water. The ice bent and crackedtreacherously, and the water flew up in little jets where it broke;but _Greased Lightning_ was off and away before there was ever achance to engulf her. And then the heart of the Twins could beatagain. 

The boat was just well over the crack when she struck a patch of roughice and yawed suddenly. There was a severe wrench. B. J. And Reddy wereprepared for it; but Heady, before he knew what was the matter, hadslid off the boat on to the ice and on a long tangent into the crackthey had just passed. 

He let out a yell, I can tell you, and clung to the edge of thebrittle ice with desperate hands. 

He thought he had been cold before; but as he clung there now in thebitter water, and watched B. J. Trying to bring the obstinate boatabout and come alongside, he thought that the passengers on theice-boat were warm as in any Turkish bath. 

After what seemed to him at least a century of foolish zigzagging, B. J. Finally got the boat somewhere near the miserable Heady, broughtthe _Greased Lightning_ to a standstill, and threw the dripping Twinthe sheet-rope. Then he hauled him out upon the strong ice. 

B. J. Begged Heady to get aboard and resume the journey, or at leastride back home; but Heady vowed he would never even look at anice-boat again, and could not be dissuaded from starting off at adog-trot across the lake toward home. 

Reddy wanted to get out and follow him; but B. J. Insisted that hecould not sail the boat without some ballast, and before Reddy couldstep out upon the ice B. J. Had flung the sail into the wind again, andwas off with his kidnapped prisoner. Reddy looked disconsolately afterthe wretched Heady plowing through the slush homeward until his twinbrother disappeared in the distance. Then he began to implore B. J. Toput back to Lakerim. 

Finally he began to threaten him with physical force if he did not. 

B. J. Fairly giggled at the thought of at last seeing one of thosemutinies he had read so much about. But he contented himself withhaving a great deal to say about tacking on this leg and on that, andabout how many points he could sail into the wind, and a lot of othergibberish that kept Reddy guessing, until the boat had gone far up thelake. 

At last, to Reddy's infinite delight, B. J. Announced that he was goingto turn round and tack home. As they came about they gave the windfull sweep. The sail filled with a roar, and the boat leaped away likean athlete at a pistol-shot. 

And now their speed was so bird-like that Reddy would have beenreminded of the boy Ganymede, whom Jupiter's eagle stole and flew offto heaven with; but he had never heard of that unfortunate youth. Hehad the sense of flight plainly enough, though, and it terrified himbeyond all the previous terrors of the morning. 

As I have said before, different persons have their differentspecialties in courage, as in everything else; and while Reddy andHeady were brave as lads could well be in some ways, their couragelay in other lines than in running dead before the wind in a madcapice-boat on uncertain ice. 

The wind had increased, too, since they first started out, and now itwas a young and hilarious gale. It began to wrench the windward runnerclear of the ice and bang it down again with a stomach-turning thud. 

In fact, the wind began to batter the boat about so much that B. J. Decided he must have some weight upon the windward runner, or it wouldbe unmanageable. He told Reddy that he must make his way out to theend of the see-saw. 

Reddy gave B. J. One suspicious look, and then yelled at the top of hisvoice:

"No, thank you!"

The calm and joyful B. J. Now proceeded to grow very much excited, and to insist. He told Reddy that he must go out upon the end ofthe runner, or the boat would be wrecked, and both of them possiblykilled. After many blood-curdling warnings of this sort, the disgustedReddy set forth upon his most unpleasant voyage. 

He crept tremblingly along the narrow backbone until he reached thecrossing-point of the runner; there he grasped a hand-rope, and madehis way, step by step, along the jouncing plank to the end, where hewrapped his legs around the wire stay, and held on for dear life. 

Reddy's weight gave the runner steadiness enough to reassure B. J. , though poor Reddy thought it was the most unstable platform he hadstood upon, as it flung and bucked and shook him hither and yon witha violence that knew no rest or regularity. But, uncomfortable as hewas, and much as he felt like a seasick balloonist, he did not know inwhat a lucky position he was, nor how happy he should have been thatit was not even riskier. 

There is some comfort, or there ought to be, in the fact that asituation is never so bad that it might not be worse. 

B. J. Was now so well satisfied with his live ballast that he beganonce more to sing and make a mad hullabaloo of pure enjoyment. Hefinally grew careless, and forgot himself and the eternal alertnessthat is necessary for a good skipper. Just one moment he let his mindwander, and that moment was enough. The boat, without warning toeither B. J. Or Reddy, jibed!

Reddy, now more than ever astounded, suddenly found himself pitchingforward in the air and slamming on the ice. He slid along it for ahundred feet or more on his stomach, like a rocket with a wake ofspray and slush for a tail. Reddy was soaked as completely as ifhe had fallen into a bath-tub, and his face and hands were cut andbruised in the bargain. 

But his feelings, his mental feelings, were hurt even worse than hisflesh. 

As for the reckless B. J. , though he was not so badly bruised as hisunfortunate and unwilling guest, he was to suffer a still greatertorment. He, too, was thrown from the boat into the slush; and by thetime he had recovered himself the yacht was well away from the hopeof capture. But that wilful boat, the _Greased Lightning_, seemedunwilling to let off her tormentor so easily. 

For the astounded B. J. , glaring at her as she ran on riderless, sawher come upon some rough ice, and jolt and ditch her runner, and veeruntil she had actually made a half-circle, and was heading straightfor him!

All this remarkable change took place in a very short space of time;but a large part of that small time was spent by B. J. In absoluteamazement at the curious and vicious action of his boat. Then, as theyacht began to bear down on him with increasing speed, he made a dashto get out of its path; but his feet slipped on the wet ice, and hecould make no headway. 

B. J. Saw immediately that one of two things was very sure to happen;and he could not see how either of them would result in anything butterrible disaster to him. 

For if he should stand still the runner-plank would strike him belowthe knee and break both his legs like straws; besides, when he wasknocked over he was likely to be struck by the tiller-runner, whichwould finish him completely. 

If, on the other hand, he tried to jump into the air and escape therunner, he stood a fine chance of being hit on the head by the boom, which would deal a blow like the guard of an express-engine. Beforethese two sickening probabilities the boy paused motionless, helpless. 

It was the choice of frying-pan or fire. 

XIX

B. J. Decided to take the chances of a battered skull rather than letboth the windward runner and the tiller-runner have a slash at him. 

He gathered himself for a dive into the air. 

But, just as he was about to leap, a sudden gust of wind lifted thewindward runner off the ice at least two feet. 

Like lightning B. J. Dropped face down on the ice, and the boat passedharmlessly over him, the runner just grazing his coat-sleeve. 

Having inflicted what seemed to it to be punishment enough, the_Greased Lightning_ sailed coquettishly on down the lake, and finallybanged into a dock at home, and stopped. B. J. And Reddy made off afterit as fast as they could on the slippery ice with the help of the windat their backs; but they never overtook it, and the run served themonly the good turn of warming them somewhat, and thus saving them fromall the dire consequences they deserved for their foolhardiness. 

When Reddy reached home, he found that Heady had preceded him. Bothwere put to bed and dosed with such bitter medicine that they almostforgot the miseries they had had upon the lake. But it was many a daybefore they would consent to speak to B. J. 

When they saw him coming they crossed the street with great dignity, and if he spoke to them they seemed stricken with a sudden deafness. 

B. J. 's troubles did not end with his return home; for, somehow orother, the escapade with the ice-boat reached his father's ears. Andit is reported that B. J. 's father forgot for a few minutes the factthat his son was now a dignified academician. At any rate, B. J. Tookhis meals standing for a day or two, and he could not explain thisstrange whim to the satisfaction of his friends. 

 * * * * *

Every member of the Dozen realized the necessity of keeping the bodyclean if he would be a successful athlete, and of keeping his linenand clothes comely if he would be a successful gentleman. Takenaltogether, the Twelve were exactly what could be called "neat but notgaudy. " But presentable as all of them were, there was none that tookso much pains and pride in the elegances of dress as the boy Pretty, who won his title from his fondness for being what the otherssometimes called a dude. But he was such a whole-hearted, vigorous, athletic young fellow, with so little foolishness about his make-up, that the name did not carry with it the insult it usually conveys. 

The chief offense Pretty gave to the less careful of the Dozen was hisfondness for carrying a cane, a practice which the rest of the boys, being boys, did not affect. But Pretty was not to be dissuaded fromthis, nor from any of his other foibles, by ridicule, and the othersfinally gave him up in despair. 

When he went to Kingston there was a new audience for his devotion tomatters of dress. But at the Academy it was considered a breach ofrespect to the upper-classmen for the lower-classmen to carry canes. Pretty, however, simply sniffed at the tradition, and said it didn'tinterest him at all. 

Finally a large Senior vowed he would crack the cane in pieces overPretty's head, if necessary. 

Pretty heard these threats, and was prepared for the man. When thefatal moment of their meeting arrived, though the Senior was muchbigger than Pretty, the Lakerim youth did not run--at least, he ranno farther than was necessary to clear a good space for the use of alittle single-stick exercise. 

Pretty was no boxer, but he was a firm believer in the value of a goodstout cane. Imagine his humiliation, then, when he found, in the firstplace, that the crook of his stick had caught in his coat-pocket andspoiled one good blow, and, in the second place, that the fine strongslash he meant to deliver overhead like a broad-sword stroke merelylanded upon the upraised arm of the Senior, and had its whole forcebroken. Pretty then had the bitter misery of seeing his good swordwrenched from his hand and broken across the knee of the Senior, whovery magnificently told him that he must never appear on the campusagain with a walking-stick. 

Pretty was overcome with embarrassment at the outcome of his innocentfoppery, and of his short, vain battle, and he was the laughing-stockof the Seniors for a whole day. But, being of Lakerim mettle andmetal, he did not mean to let one defeat mean a final overthrow. Hetold the rest of the Lakerimmers that he would carry a cane anyway, and carry it anywhere he pleased, and that the next man who attemptedto take it from him would be likely to get "mussed up. "

About this time he found a magazine article that told the proper sortof cane to carry, and the proper way to use it in case of attack; andhe proceeded to read and profit. 

Now, inasmuch as Sawed-Off was working his way through the Academy, and paying his own expenses, without assistance except from what smallearnings he could make himself, it was only natural that he shouldalways be the one who always had a little money to lend to the otherfellows, though they had their funds from home. It was now Pretty whocame to him for the advance of cash enough to buy a walking-stick ofthe following superb description: a thoroughly even, straight-grainedbit of hickory-wood, tapered like a billiard-cue, an inch and a halfthick at the butt and three fourths of an inch thick at the point, thebutt carrying a knob of silver, and the point heavily ferruled. 

Pretty had managed to find such a stick in the small stores ofLakerim. He bought it with Sawed-Off's money, and he practised hisexercises with it so vigorously and so secretly that when he nextappeared upon the campus and carried it, the Senior who had attackedhim before, let him go by without any hindrance. He was fairlystupefied at the impudence of this Lakerimmer whom he thought he hadthrashed so soundly. He did not know that the main characteristic ofthe Lakerimmer is this: he does not know when he is whipped, or, if hedoes know it, he will not stay whipped. 

But once he had recovered his senses, the haughty Senior did not losemuch time in making another onslaught on Pretty. 

When some of his friends were pouring cold water on this Senior'sbruised head a few minutes later, he poured cold water on their schemeto attempt to carry out what he had failed in, for he said:

"Don't you ever go up against that Lakerim fellow; his cane works likea Gatling gun. "

So Pretty was permitted to carry his cane; and though he swaggered alittle, perhaps, no further attempt was made by the Seniors to takethe stick away from him. They had to content themselves with trying tothrow water on him from upper windows; but their aim was bad. 

XX

Pretty had not been home long on his Christmas vacation before hecalled at the home of the beautiful girl Enid, who had helped him winso many tennis games, and who was the best of all the best girls hedevoted himself to, either in Kingston, Lakerim, or any other of thetowns he blessed with his smiling presence. 

Enid and Pretty, being great lovers of fresh air, took many a longwalk on the country roads about Lakerim. 

One day, when the air was as exhilarating and as electric as thebubbles in a glass of ice-cream soda, they took a much longer strollthan usual. 

Then they made a sudden decision to turn homeward; for, roundinga sharp bend in the road, they saw coming toward them three burlytramps. 

At the sight of these Three Graces both Pretty and Enid stopped shortin some little uneasiness. The tramps also stopped short, and seemedto engage in a conversation about the two young people ahead of themon the road. 

Pretty, on account of the extreme neatness of his costume, often gotcredit for being a much richer lad than he was. And Enid also was ascareful and as successful in her costumery as Pretty. So the threetramps probably thought they had before them two children of wealth, who would be amply provided with pocket-money. But if they had onlyknown how little the two really had in their possession, the adventureyou are about to hear would never have happened. 

But while Pretty was flicking the dirt at the end of his toe with hiswalking-stick, and wondering if he really cared to go any farther, thetramps moved toward him quickly. 

Enid, being a girl, was frightened, and did not try to conceal it, butsaid:

"Oh, Pretty, let's go home at once!"

Pretty, being a boy, thought he must make a display of courage, evenif he didn't feel it; so, while his heart clattered away in hisbreast, and he could hardly find breath to speak, he said with someshow of composure:

"Yes, Enid; I think we have walked far enough for to-day. "

Then they whirled about and started for home at a good gait. They hadnot gone far when Enid, glancing back over her shoulder, noticed thatthe tramps were coming up at a still more rapid walk. 

One of them, indeed, called out in a suspiciously friendly tone:

"Hey, young feller, hold up a minute and tell us what time it is, willye?"

Enid gasped:

"Let's run, Pretty; come on. "

But Pretty answered with much dignity:

"Run? What for?" And he turned and called back to the tramp: "I don'tknow what time it is. "

Then the tramps insisted again that Pretty wait for them to come up. But when he continued to walk without answering them, they began tohurl oaths and rocks, and to run toward him. Now Pretty thought thatdiscretion was the better half of valor, and he seized Enid's wristand started off on a run, an act in which she was willing enough tofollow his lead. But he had to explain, just to preserve his dignity:

"They're three to one, you know. "

But while Enid understood well enough the necessity for speed, she hadno breath to expend expressing her appreciation of Pretty's delicateposition. She was too frightened to run even as well as she knewhow, and she was going at a gait that was neither very fast nor veryeconomical of muscle and breath. Pretty, however, ran scientifically:on the balls of his feet, with his head erect, his chest out, and hislips tightly locked. 

But before long he was doing all the work for two, and laboring likea ship that drags its anchor in a storm. They came to a hill now, andhere Enid leaned her whole weight upon him. He barely managed, withthe most tremendous determination and exertion, to get her to the topof this long incline. As they labored up he decided in his own mind, and told her, that she must leave him and run on for help. 

Just one tenth of a second his terrified mind had been occupied withthe thought that he might run on alone and leave her. The temptingidea of self-preservation had whispered to him that if he stayedbehind, it would only result in disaster to two, while if he ran onalone, at least one would be saved. 

But this cowardly selfishness he put away after the tenth of a secondof thought, and now he was insisting, even against Enid's gaspingobjection, that she must run on alone and leave him to take care ofthe footpads. He did not know how he was going to do this, but he feltthat upon him devolved the duty of being the zealous rear-guard tocover the retreat of a vanquished army. 

Enid, however, was stubborn, and proposed to stay and fight with him, even drawing out a very sharp and very dangerous hat-pin to emphasizeher courage. But Pretty, while he blessed her for her bravery andher full-heartedness, still commanded her to run on and bring help, promising her that he would keep out of harm's way till help couldcome. With this assurance, the poor girl staggered on, gainingstrength from the necessity of speed to save her beloved Pretty. 

At the brow of the hill Pretty found himself alone, and turned andlooked at the on-coming trio with defiant sternness. After a moment, which gave him some much-needed rest and a chance to gain new breath, he realized that one half a battle is with the warrior that is wiseenough to make the first onslaught. So, after a tremor of very naturalhesitation, the boy dashed full at the three hulkish tramps. 

XXI

The overgrown brutes were so much taken aback at the change of fronton the part of the young fellow whom they had hoped to run down like ascared rabbit, that they stopped short in sheer surprise. 

But this was only for a moment. Then the leader of the three rushedforward, with a large club. He carried it high in the air in the sameindiscreet manner in which Pretty had once attacked the Senior. 

Just before the tramp and the boy came to close quarters Pretty madea diving sidelong dodge, and as the tramp's club whisked idly throughthe air past him, he dealt the fellow a furious blow across the leftshin. Now, as any one who was ever struck there knows, a man's shin isas tender as a bear's nose; and the surprised tramp was soon dancingabout in the air, hugging his bruised leg and yowling like a wildcat. But Pretty had run on past, leaving him to his misery. 

Now he came up to the other two, who moved in single file towardhim. The first man Pretty received right upon the point of his cane, driving the hard metal ferrule straight at the man's solar plexus. Thecombination of the man's rush and Pretty's powerful thrust was enoughto lay the wretch upon the ground, writhing and almost unconscious. 

For the last thug Pretty had prepared a beautiful back-handed slashacross the face; but the villain, seeing what was in store for him, dropped down, and rushed at the boy low enough to evade the stick. Pretty, however, had a check for this move also, and a quick step toone side saved him from the man's clutch. 

Now he recovered himself quickly enough to deliver a vicious whackstraight at the back of the man's head--a blow that would have settledthe tramp's mind for some time to come, but the fellow was running sofast that Pretty missed his aim, and his stout weapon only dealt astinging blow upon the man's left shoulder. 

The thug ran on far enough to gain a good vantage-ground, and then, whirling, came at Pretty again. Now his uplifted hand held an uglyknife. 

The look of this was not pleasant to Pretty's eyes; but the excitementof the situation was much increased when a glance out of the side ofhis eye showed him that the first thug had regained enough nerve tocome limping forward in the endeavor to throttle him. 

The men were not coming at him in such a way that he could use the"point-and-butt thrust" that he had learned for such occasions, so hedecided instantly to repeat upon the first thug the shin-shatteringblow that had been so successful before. 

As the man came on, then, Pretty gave a terrific backward slash thatcaught the tramp's uninjured shin. It was a beauteous shot, and sentthe fellow to his hunkers, actually boohooing with agony. 

And now, with another fine long sweep, this time upward, Pretty senta smashing blow at the third tramp's upraised arm. The force of thestroke was alone strong enough to send the knife flying; but, by theaddition of a bit of good luck, Pretty caught the wretch on his crazybone, and set him to such a caterwauling as cats sing of midnights ona back-yard fence. 

Leaving the battered Three Graces to their different dances, Prettypicked up the knife he had knocked from the hand of the third, andsauntered homeward, adjusting his somewhat ruffled collar and tie ashe went, with magnificent self-possession. 

On his way he met the party of rescuers sent to him by Enid, who hadmanaged to reach town in rapid time. Pretty calmly sent them back topick up the three tramps he had left; and these gentlemen were stowedaway in the Lakerim jail, where they cracked rock and thought of theircracked bones till long after Pretty's Christmas vacation was over. 

As for Enid, I will leave you to guess whether or no she thoughtPretty the greatest hero of his age, --or any age, --and whether or noshe gossiped his bravery all around Lakerim long after the Dozen wereaway again in Kingston. 

XXII

The night before the Lakerim contingent went back to the KingstonAcademy, another grand reception was given in their honor at theclub-house; and the Dozen made more speeches and assumed an air ofgreater magnificence than ever. 

But, nevertheless, they were just a trifle sorry that they had toleave their old happy hunting-ground. But there was some consolationin the thought that the life at the Academy would not be oneglittering revel of studies and classes. For the Dozen believed, asit believed nothing else, that all play and no work makes Jack a dullboy. 

The general average of the Dozen in the matter of studies wassatisfactory enough; for, while Sleepy was always at the bottom of hisclasses, and probably the laziest and stupidest of all the studentsat Kingston, History was certainly at the head of his classes, andprobably the most brilliant of all the students at Kingston. 

With these two at the opposite poles, the rest of the Dozen workedmore or less hard and faithfully, and kept a very decent pace. 

But the average attainment of the Dozen in the field of athletics wasfar more than satisfactory. 

It was brilliant. 

For, while there was one man (History) who was not quite the all-roundathlete of the universe, and was not good at anything more muscularthan chess and golf, the eleven others had each his specialty and hisnumerous interests. 

They believed, athletically, in knowing everything about something, and something about everything. 

 * * * * *

The winter went blustering along, piling up snows and melting themagain, only to pile up more again. And the wind raved in veryuncertain humors. But, snow or thaw, the Dozen was never at a loss toknow what to do. 

Finally January was gone, and February, that sawed-off month, wasdawdling along its way toward that great occasion which gives it itschief excuse for being on the calendar--Washington's Birthday. 

From time immemorial it had been the custom at Kingston to celebratethe natal anniversary of the Father of his Country with all sorts ofdisgraceful rioting and un-Washingtonian cavorting. The Lakerim Twelvewere not the ones to throw the weight of their influence against anytraditions that might add dignity to the excitements of school-booklife. 

Of the part they took in raising the flag on the tower of the chapel, and in defending that flag, and in tearing down a dummy raised intheir colors by the Crows in the public square of the village--of thisand many other delightfully improper pranks there is no room to tellhere; and you must rest content with hearing of the important athleticaffair--the affair which more truly and fittingly celebrated theanniversary of the birth of this great man, who was himself one of thefinest specimens of manhood and one of the best athletes our countryhas ever known. 

The athletic association from a neighboring school, known as theBrownsville School for Boys, had sent the Kingstonians an offer tobring along a team of cross-country runners to scour the regionsaround Kingston in competition with any team Kingston would put forth. 

The challenge was cordially accepted at once, and the Brownsvillepeople sent over John Orton, the best of their cross-country runners, to look over a course two days in advance, and decide upon the pathalong which he should lead his team. It was agreed that the courseshould be between six and eight miles long. The runners should startfrom the Kingston gymnasium, and report successively at the Macombfarm-house, which was some distance out of Kingston, and was cut offby numerous ditches and gullies; then at the railway junction twomiles out of Kingston; then at a certain little red school-house, andthen at the finish in front of the campus. It was agreed that the twoteams should start in different directions and touch at these pointsin the reverse order. Each captain was allowed to choose his owncourse, and take such short cuts as he would, the three points beingespecially chosen with a view to keeping the men off the roadand giving them plenty of fence-jumping, ditch-taking, andobstacle-leaping of all sorts. 

The race was to have been run off in the afternoon; but the train waslate, and the Brownsvillers did not arrive until just before supper. It was decided, after a solemn conference, that the race should be runin spite of the delay, and as soon as the supper had had a ghost ofa chance to digest. The rising of a full and resplendent moon was apromise that the runners should not be entirely in the dark. 

Tug and the Brownsville chief, Orton, had made careful surveys ofthe course they were to run over. It was as new to Tug as to theBrownsville man. Each of the two had planned his own short cuts, andeven if they had been running over the course in the same directionthey would have separated almost immediately. But when the signal-shotthat sent them off in different directions rang out, they werestanding back to back, and did not know anything of each other'swhereabouts until they met again, face to face, at the end of thecourse. 

The teams consisted of five men each. The only Lakerim men on theKingston team were Tug, the chief, who had been a great runner of440-yard races, and Sawed-Off, who had won the half-mile event onvarious field-days. The other three were Stage, Bloss, and MacManus. All of them were stocky runners and inured to hardship. 

They had come out of the gymnasium in their bathrobes; and when thesignal to start was given, the spectators in their warm overcoats feltchills scampering up and down their ribs as they noticed that all themen of both teams, when they had thrown off their bath-robes, stoodclad only in running-shoes, short gymnasium-trunks, and jerseys. 

But their heat was to come from within, and once they were started, cold was the least of their trials. 

The two teams broke away from each other at the gymnasium, and boltedat a wide angle straight across the campus. They all took the firstfence in perfect form, as if they were thoroughbred hunters racingafter a fox. 

Quiz and one or two other of the bicycle enthusiasts attempted tofollow one or the other of the two packs; but they avoided the road socompletely that the bicyclists soon lost them from sight, and returnedto watch the finish. 

The method of awarding the victory was this: the different runnerswere to be checked off as they passed the different stages of thecourse, and crossed off as they came across the finish-line. Each manwas thus given the number of his place in the finish, and the total ofthe numbers earned by each team decided the match, the team having thesmaller number winning. Thus the first man in added the number 1 tothe total score of his side, while the last man in added 10 to his. 

Tug had explained to his runners, before they started out, thatteam-work was what would count--that he wished his men to keeptogether, and that they were to take their orders all from him. 

After the first enthusiasm of a good brisk start to get steam andinterest up, Tug slowed his pace down to such a gait as he thoughtcould be comfortably maintained through the course. 

The Brownsville leader, Orton, however, being a brilliantcross-country runner himself, set his men too fierce a pace, and soonhad upon his hands a pack of breathless stragglers. 

Tug vigorously silenced any attempt at conversation among his men, andadvised them to save their breath for a time soon to come when theywould need it badly. 

His path led into a heavy woods, very gloomy under the dim moonlight;and he had many an occasion to yell with pain and surprise as a lowbranch stung him across the head. But all he permitted himself toexclaim was a warning cry to the others:

"Low bridge!"

The grove was so blind (save for the little clearing at Roden's Knoll, which Tug and Sawed-Off recognized with a groan of pride) that themen's shins were barked and their ankles turned at almost every otherstep, it seemed. But Tug would not permit any of them the luxury ofcomplaint. 

In time they were out of the wood and into the open. But here itseemed that their troubles only increased; for, where the maindifficulty in the forest was to avoid obstacles, the chief trouble inthe plain was to conquer them. There were many barbed-wire fencesto crawl through, the points clutching the bare skin and tearing itpainfully at various spots. The huge Sawed-Off suffered most fromthese barbs, but he only gasped:

"I'm punctured. "

There were long, steep hills to scramble up and to jolt down. Therewere little gullies to leap over, and brooks to cross on waterystepping-stones that frequently betrayed the feet into icy water. 

After vaulting gaily over one rail fence, and scooting jauntily alongacross a wide pasture, the Kingstonians were surprised to hear thesound of other footsteps than theirs, and they turned and found alarge and enthusiastic bull endeavoring to join their select circle. 

Perhaps this bovine gentleman was, after all, their very best friend, for nowhere along the whole course did they attain such a burst ofspeed as then. Indeed, none of the five could remember a time in hislife when he made such a spurt. 

They reached and scaled a stone wall, however, in time to shake offthe company of this inhospitable host. In the next field there weretwo or three skittish colts, which they scared into all manner ofhysterical behavior as they sped across. 

Down a country lane they turned for a short distance; and a farmer andhis wife, returning home from a church sociable, on seeing these fivewhite figures flit past in a minimum of clothing, thereafter alwaysvowed that they had seen ghosts. 

As the runners trailed past a farm-house with never a light to showupon its front, there was a ferocious hullabaloo, something betweenthe angry snorting of a buffalo and the puffing of a railroad enginegoing up a steep grade. It was the wolfish welcome of three caninebrigands, the bloodthirsty watch-dogs that surrounded and guarded thislonely and poverty-stricken little farm-house from the approach of anyone evil- or well-intentioned. 

Those dogs must have been very sorry they spoke; for when they camerushing forward cordially to take a few souvenir bites out of theLakerim team, Tug and the others stopped short and turned toward them. 

"Load!" cried Tug. 

And every mother's son of the five picked up three or four large rocksfrom the road. 

"Aim!" cried Tug. 

And every father's son of the five drew back a strong and willing arm. 

"Fire!" cried Tug. 

And every grandfather's and grandmother's grandson of the five let flywith a will the rocks his hands had found upon the road. 

Those dogs must have felt that they were caught out in the heaviesthail-storm of their whole experience. Their blustering mooddisappeared in an instant, and they turned for home, yelping likefrightened puppies; nor did they forget, like Bo-peep's sheep, to taketheir tails with them, neatly tucked between their legs. 

Past as the cross-country dogs ran in one direction, the cross-countryhumans ran in the opposite. 

Now that they were on a good pike road, some of them were disposed tosprint, particularly the fleet-footed Stage, who could far outrun Tugor any of the team. 

But Tug thought that wisdom lay in keeping his team well in hand, andhe did not approve of running on in advance any more than he approvedof straggling. Thus the enthusiastic Stage, rejoicing in his airyheels, suddenly found himself deserted, Tug having seen fit to leavethe road for a short cut across the fields; and Stage had to run backfifty yards or more and spend most of his surplus energy in catchingup with the team. 

It was a merry chase Tug led his weary crew: through one rough ravinewhere the hillside flowed out from under their feet and followed themdown, and where they must climb the other side on slippery earth, grasping at a rock here and a root there; then through one littlestrip of forest that offered him an advantageous-short cut. Here againhe silenced the protests of his men at the thick underbrush and thefrequent brambles they encountered. Just at the edge of this littlegrove Tug put on an extra burst of speed, and was running like thewind. The others, following to the best of their ability, saw himabout to pass between two harmless posts. 

Suddenly they also saw him throw up his hands and fall over backward. When they reached him they saw that he had run into a barbed-wirefence in the dark. 

XXIII

They were doubly dismayed now, because they not only had lost theirleader, but were themselves lost in some part of the country wherethey knew neither the landmarks nor the points of the compass. Theyhelped Tug cautiously to his feet, and, for lack of a better medicine, rubbed snow upon the ugly slashes in his breast and legs. 

"This ends the race, as far as we are concerned, " moaned Bloss. 

But Tug had recovered enough from his dizziness to shake his head andmane lion-like, and cry:

"Not much! Come on, boys!"

And before the restraining hand of Sawed-Off could stop him, Tug hadsomehow wormed himself through the barbed-wire fence and was offacross the open; and they were sore put to it to catch up with himagain. 

Suddenly, as the devoted four followed their leader, the firststation, the farm-house at which they were to report, loomedunexpectedly upon the horizon, approached in some unknown way by Tug, who was threading his way through the wilderness with more regard forstraight lines than for progress. They were named off, as they flewpast, by a watcher stationed there, and without pause they madeoff toward the railroad junction. Once they thought they saw a fewfleeting forms in the distance, and they guessed that they must beOrton and his Brownsville team; but they could not feel sure, and nocloser sight of their rivals was vouchsafed to them. 

When the last station, the little red school-house, had been passed, they began to feel that there was some hope of their reaching home. They began also to feel the effect of their long, hard journey. Theirsides hurt them sorely, their legs ached, and their breath came fasterthan they wished. 

MacManus now showed more serious signs of weakening than any of therest. He straggled along the way with feet that seemed to get intoeach other's path, and with a head that wabbled uncertainly on hisdrooping shoulders. 

Tug fell back and ran alongside him, trying to console and encouragehim to better speed. MacManus responded to this plea with a spurt, andsuddenly broke away from the four and ran wildly ahead with the speedof desperation. 

He came upon a little brook frozen across with a thin sheet ofice. Here he found a log that seemed to have been placed, eitherprovidentially or by some human being, to serve as a foot-bridge. MacManus leaped gaily on it to cross the stream ahead of the rest. 

To his breathless dismay, the log turned under his foot; and wildly ashe tried to get a good grip on the atmosphere, nothing could save him, and he went ker-smash and ker-splash through the thin ice into thewater. 

Now he was indeed willing to run without any more coaxing than thebitter air upon his wet skin. His only hope of getting warm was inhis heels. And he ran like a maniac till Tug and the rest must put onextra force also, or leave him completely. 

Almost before they knew it, now, they were on the outskirts ofKingston village. Their arrival at the beginning of the home stretchwas signaled in a very startling manner; for Tug, who had regained thelead, saw ahead of him a bright, shining strip that looked for all theworld like a little frozen stream under the moonlight. He did not careto risk stepping on any more thin ice, so he gave the quick command:

"Jump!"

And he jumped, followed almost immediately by his devoted attendants. The next thing they all knew, they were in half-frozen mud up totheir knees. The bright patch they had supposed to be a brook was afrost-covered sidewalk!

And they had carefully jumped over the sidewalk into the mire beyond!

Tug was disgusted but not disheartened, and he had his crew under wayagain instantly. He kept up his system of short cuts even now thatthey were in town. He led them over back fences, through orchards andkitchen-gardens, scattering a noisy flock of low-roosting hens in oneplace, and stirring up a half-dozen more dogs in another. 

The true home stretch was a long downhill run straight to the goal. 

By the time they reached this MacManus was once more in bad shape, andgoing very unsteadily. 

As they cleared the brow of the hill, Tug's anxious heart was piercedwith the fear that he had lost the long, racking race, after all; for, just crossing the stake at the finish, he caught a sight of Orton. 

The rest of the team saw the same disheartening spectacle. AndMacManus, eager for any excuse to stop running, gasped:

"They've beaten us. There's no use running any farther. "

But Tug, having Lakerim ideals in mind, would never say die. Hesquandered just breath enough to exclaim:

"We're not beaten till the last man crosses the line!" And he added:"Stage, run for your life. "

And Stage ran. Oh, but it was fine to see that lad run! He fledforward like a stag with the hounds in full cry after him. He wastednot an ounce of energy, but ran cleanly and straightly and splendidly. He had the high-stepping knee-action of a thoroughbred trotter, andhis running was as beautiful as it was swift. 

"Run, all of you, for your lives!" cried Tug; and at that theweary little band sprang forward with a new lease on strength anddetermination. Tug had no ambition, like Orton, to leave his men tofind their own way. Rather, he herded them up and urged them on, as aScotch collie drives home the sheep at a canter. 

Orton's runners were "tailed out" for more than half a mile behindhim. He himself was easily the first man home; but Stage beat hissecond man in, and Bloss was a good third. Orton ran back frantically, now, to coax his last three men. He hurried in his third runner at afairly good gait, but before he could get him to the line, Tug hadbrought forward his last three men, Sawed-Off well up, MacManus goingdoggedly and leaning mentally, if not physically, on Tug, who ran athis side. 

By thus hurling in three men at once, Tug made an enormous inroad uponthe score of the single-man Brownsvillers. Besides, though Orton gothis next-to-the-last man in soon after Tug, the last Brownsviller didnot come along for a minute afterward. He had been left to make hisway along unaided and unguided, and he hardly deserved the laughterthat greeted him as he came over the line. 

Thus Orton, too ambitious, had brought his team in with this score: 1, 3, 8, 9, 10--total, 31; while Tug's men, well bunched at the finish, came in with this score: 2, 4, 5, 6, 7-total, 24. 

Tug richly deserved the cheers and enthusiasm that greeted hismanagement; for, in spite of a team of individual inferiority tothe crack Brownsvillers; he had won by strict discipline and clevergeneralship. 

XXIV

The victorious outcome of the cross-country run, as well as many othervictories and defeats, had pretty well instilled it in the Lakerimminds that team-play is an all-important factor of success. But thetime came when there was no opportunity to use the hard-learned, easily forgot lesson of team-work, and it was each man for himself, and all for Lakerim and Kingston. 

When the ground was soggy and mushy with the first footsteps ofspring, and it was not yet possible to practise to any extent out ofdoors, the Kingston Athletic Association received from the athleticassociation of the Troy Latin School a letter that was a curiouscombination of blood-warming hospitality and blood-curdling challenge. The Latin School, in other words, opened its heart and its gymnasium, and warmly invited the Kingston athletes to come over and be eaten upin a grand indoor carnival. Troy was not so far away that only a smalldelegation could go. Almost every one from Kingston, particularlythose athletically inclined, took the train to Troy. 

Most surprising of all it was to see the diminutive and bespectacledHistory proudly joining the ranks of the strong ones. He was going toTroy to display his microscopical muscles in that most wearing andviolent of all exercises--chess. 

The Tri-State Interscholastic League, which encouraged the practiceof all imaginable digressions from school-books, had arranged fora series of chess games between teams selected from the differentacademies. The winners of these preliminary heats, if one can use socalm a word for so exciting a game, were to meet at Troy and play forthe championship of the League. 

If I should describe the hair-raising excitement of that chesstournament, I am afraid that this book would be put down as entirelytoo lively for young readers. So I will simply say once for all that, owing to History's ability to look wiser than any one could possiblybe, and to spend so much time thinking of each move that hisdeliberation affected his opponents' nerves, and owing to the factthat he could so thoroughly map out future moves on the inside of hislarge skull, and that there was something awe-inspiring abouthis general look of being a wizard in boys' clothes, he won thetournament--almost more by his looks than by his skill as a tactician. The whole Academy, and especially the Lakerimmers, overwhelmed thissecond Paul Morphy with congratulations, and felt proud of him; butwhen he attempted to explain how he had won his magnificent battle, and started off with such words as these: "You will observe that Iused the Zukertort opening"; and when he began to tell of his movesfrom VX to QZ, or some such place, even his best friends took to talltimber. 

The Kingston visitors found that the Troy Latin School was inpossession of a finer and much larger gymnasium than their own. But, much as they envied their luckier neighbors, they determined that theywould prove that fine feathers do not make fine birds, nor a finegymnasium fine athletes. A large crowd had gathered, and was put in agood humor with a beautiful exhibition of team-work by the Troy menon the triple and horizontal bars and the double trapeze. The Trojansalso gave a kaleidoscopic exhibition of tumbling and pyramid-building, none of which sports had been practised much by the Kingstonians. After this the regular athletic contests of the evening began. 

In almost every event at least one of the Lakerim men representedKingston. Some of the Dozen made a poor showing; but the majority, owing to their long devotion to the theory and the practice ofathletics, stood out strongly, and were recognized by the strangeaudience, in their Lakerim sweaters, as distinguished heroes of theoccasion. 

The first event was a contest in horse-vaulting, in which no Lakerimmen were entered. Kingston suffered a defeat. 

"Ill begun is half done up, " sighed Jumbo. 

But in the next event the old reliable Tug was entered, among others;and in the Rope-Climb he ran up the cord like a monkey on a stick, andtouched the tambourine that hung twenty-five feet in the air beforeany of his rivals reached their goal, and in better form than any ofthem. 

The third event was the Standing High Jump; and B. J. And the otherKingstonians were badly outclassed here. Their efforts to clear thebar compared with that of the Trojans as the soaring of an elephantcompares with the flight of a butterfly. 

Punk was the only Lakerimmer on the team that attempted to win gloryon the flying-rings, but he and his brother Kingstonians suffered alike humiliation with the standing high-jumpers. 

The clerk of the course and the referees were now seen to be runninghither and yon in great excitement. A long delay and much putting ofheads together ensued, to the great mystification of the audience. Atlength, just as a number of small boys in the gallery had begun tostamp their feet in military time and whistle their indignation, theofficial announcer officially announced that there had been a slighthitch in the proceedings. 

"I have to explain, " he yelled in his gentlest manner, "that two ofthe boxers have failed to turn up. Both have excellent excuses anddoctors' certificates to account for their absence, but we haveunfortunately to confess that the Kingston heavy-weight and the Troyfeather-weight are incapacitated for the present. The feather-weightfrom Kingston, however, is a good enough sport to express awillingness to box, for points, with the heavy-weight from Troy. Whilethis match will look a little unusual owing to the difference in sizeof the two opponents, it will be scientific enough, we have no doubt, to make it interesting as well as picturesque. "

As usual, the audience, not knowing what else to say, applauded verycordially. 

And now the heavy-weight from Troy, one Jaynes, appeared upon thescene with his second. There was no roped-off space, but only animaginary "ring, " which was, as usual, a square--of about twenty-fourfeet each way. 

Jaynes was just barely qualified as a heavy-weight, being only atrifle over one hundred and fifty-eight pounds. But he overshadowedlittle Bobbles as the giants overshadowed Jack the Giant-killer. 

Bobbles, while he was diminutive compared with Jaynes, was yet rathertall and wiry for his light weight, and had an unusually long reachfor one of his size. He regretted now the great pains he had taken totrain down to feather-weight weight. For when he had stepped on thescales in the gymnasium, the day before he had started for Troy, hefound that he was three pounds over the necessary hundred and fifteen. So he had put on three sweaters, two pairs of trousers, and hisfootball knickers, and run around the track for fully four miles, until he was in doubt as to whether he was a liquid or a solid body. Then he had fallen into a hot bath, and jumped from that into a coldshower, and had then been rubbed down by some of his faithful Lakerimfriends with a pail of rock-salt to harden his muscles. At Troy, too, he had continued these tactics, and found, to his delight, when heweighed in, that he just tipped the scales at one hundred and fifteen. And now he was matched to fight with a heavy-weight, and every poundhe had sweat off would have been an advantage to him! Yet, at anyrate, it was not a fight to a finish, but only for points, and hecounted upon his agility to save him from the rushes and the majortactics of the larger man. 

In order to make the scoring of points more vivid and visible to theaudience, it was decided, after some hesitation, that the glovesshould be coated with shoe-blacking. 

Bobbles realized that his salvation lay in quick attack and theseizure of every possible opportunity, as well as in his ability toescape the onslaughts of the heavy-weight. He did not purpose turningit into a sprinting-match, but he felt that he was justified in makingas much use of the art of evasion as possible. 

He began the series by what was almost sharp practice, but wasjustified by the rules. 

The referee sang out:

"Gentlemen, shake hands. "

Then the long and the short of it quickly clasped boxing-gloves in themiddle of the ring. 

"Time!" cried the referee. 

[Illustration: THE BOXING MATCH. ]

Immediately on the break-away, before Jaynes had got his hands intoposition, Bobbles had landed on him with a fine left upper cut thatput a black mark on Jaynes' jaw. Jaynes looked surprised, and theaudience laughed. Bobbles also laughed, for he knew he would have fewchances to place black spots on the upper works of the tall Jaynes, and that he must make his scores mainly upon the zone just aboveJaynes' belt. 

Jaynes was as much angered as surprised at receiving the first blow, and sailed in with a vengeance to pepper Bobbles; but he began tothink that he was boxing with a grasshopper before long, for, whereverhe struck, there Bobbles was not. In fact, most of his straight-armblows were not only dodged by Bobbles with the smallest necessaryeffort, but were effectively countered. 

Bobbles proved himself an adept at that best of boxing tactics, the ability to dodge. He rarely moved more than would take himsufficiently out of harm's way. A little bending of the head from oneside to the other, a quick side-step or an adroit duck, saved him frombeing the bull's-eye of most of Jaynes' attacks. 

There were to be three rounds of three minutes each, with one minute'sintermission between rounds. The first round was over before eitherof the men was much more than well warmed up to the work, and beforeeither had scored any impressive amount of points. Jaynes, however, realized that Bobbles had landed oftener than he, and that thesympathy of the audience was with the little fellow. When time wascalled for the next round, therefore, he decided to rush things;and he charged on Bobbles with such fury that side-stepping andback-stepping were of little avail, and there was nothing for Bobblesto do but go into the mix-up and try to give as much as he received. 

Before they knew just how, they were clinched, and the referee wascutting them apart like a cheese-knife. And now the big man realizedthat on the swift interchange of blows Bobbles was quicker than he, and that he must keep him at a little distance. Relying, then, onhis greater reach, he went at Bobbles in a most exasperating manner, holding one long arm out straight, and fanning Bobbles with the other. Bobbles ran into the outstretched fist with great enthusiasm at first, but after a moment's daze he dodged round and under that arm anddevoted himself to playing a tattoo on Jaynes' solar plexus. Since hisglove left a black mark wherever it struck, it was tattooing in twosenses. 

Both men welcomed the gong that announced a chance to breathe. 

The grateful rubbing down, fanning, and sponging of the lightning-likeseconds between the rounds restored both men somewhat to theirenthusiasm, though the furious rate at which they had taken the twoprevious rounds left them bodily weak. 

Jaynes' second told him, during the pause, that Bobbles had decidedlythe best of it thus far on form, and Jaynes' temper was aroused. Bobbles, having been told by his second that he had the better ofit, had grown a trifle rash and impudent, and dared to take theaggressive. He went straight into Jaynes' zone of fire, and managed toplant several good hooks and upper cuts. 

While Bobbles was playing in the upper regions for Jaynes, Jaynes madea reach for Bobbles' body, several times; but Bobbles was not there. When Jaynes made a careless lead, Bobbles countered and dodged withremarkable skill. 

All these things, while they increased Bobbles' score and standingwith the judges, increased Jaynes' temper; and finally he gave avicious right swing, which Bobbles avoided unintentionally by slippingand falling. So he found himself on the floor, with Jaynes standingover him in expectant anticipation of landing him another ebonizingblow. He heard, also, the referee beginning to count slowly theseconds. His first impulse was to rise to his feet and assail Jayneswith all his might; then he realized that he had nine seconds forrefreshment, and there he waited on one hand and one knee, while theseconds were slowly intoned, until the referee sang out:

"Nine!"

Then he made a sidelong scramble to his feet, and succeeded in dodgingthe blow with which Jaynes welcomed him back. 

Jaynes charged now after Bobbles like a Spanish bull; but the wiryLakerimmer dodged him, and smote back at him while he dodged; whileJaynes, losing his head completely, wasted his strength in futilerushes and wild blows that bruised nothing except the atmosphere. Before the end of the round both men were decidedly tired, because thepace had been very rapid. The blows they dealt at each other were nowhardly more than velvety shoves, and the air seemed to be the chiefobstacle in their way. When by some chance they clinched, they leanedlovingly upon each other till the referee had to pry them apart. Therewas a little revival of interest just before the gong sounded to endthe third and last round; for Bobbles, having regained some of hiswind, began to pommel Jaynes with surprising rapidity and accuracy. The end of the bout found them in a happy-go-lucky mix-up, eachstriking blindly. 

The judges now met to discuss the verdict they were to render; and, there being some dispute as to the number of blows landed by each, thetwo men were brought forward for inspection. Bobbles' face and neckwere as black as a piccaninny's, but there were few dark spots uponhis chest. Jaynes, however, was like a leopard, for the blacking onBobbles' gloves had mottled him all up and down and around. 

As Jumbo remarked to Sawed-Off: "Bobbles certainly had designs on thatbig fellow!"

The judges had been agreed that on the points of defense, guarding, ducking, getting away, and counter-hitting, Bobbles, considering hissize, was plainly the more brainy and speedy of the two. They werealso inclined to grant him the greater number of points on his form ingeneral, and especially on account of the disparity in size and reach;and when they counted the tattoo-marks on each, they found that herealso Bobbles had made the highest score, and they did not hesitate toaward him the prize. 

The next event was the High Kick, which was won by a Kingstonhitch-and-kicker, who was a rank outsider from the Dozen. Quiz managedto be third and add one point to the Academy's score. 

Then came an exhibition of Indian-club swinging. Jumbo had formerlybeen the great Indian-club swinger of the Dozen, but he had recentlygone in so enthusiastically for wrestling that he had given up hisother interest. Sleepy had taken up this discarded amusement with asmuch enthusiasm as was possible to him. There was something about itthat appealed to Sleepy. It was different from weight-lifting anddumb bell exercising in that when you once got the clubs started theyseemed to do all the work themselves. But Sleepy was too lazy to learnmany of the new wrinkles, and the Troy club-swingers set him sometasks that he could not repeat. In form, too, he was not their equal;and this event went to the Kingston opponents. 

A novelty was introduced here in place of the usual parallel-barexhibition. From the horizontal bar a light gate was hung, and thevarious contestants gave exhibitions of Vaulting. The gate preventedthe use of the kippie swing. There was no method of twisting andwrithing up to the bar; it had to be clean vaulting; and Kingstongradually raised the mark till the Troy men could not go over it. At its last notch only one man made it, and that was a Kingstonathlete--but unfortunately not a Lakerimmer, as Punk remained behindwith the others, and divided second place with a rival. 

A Sack Race was introduced to furnish a little diversion for theaudience, which, in view of the length of the program, was beginningto believe that, after all, it is possible to have too much of a goodthing. The Kingstonians had put their hope in this event upon theTwins. None but the Dozen could tell them apart, but the Kingstoniansfelt confident that one of the red-headed brotherhood would win out. And so it looked to the audience when the long row of men were tiedup like dummies in sacks that reached to their necks; for, after thefirst muddle at the start, two small brick-top figures went bouncingalong in the lead, like hot-water bags with red stoppers in them. The Kingstonians, not knowing which of the Twins was in the lead, ifindeed either of them actually led, yelled violently:

"The Twins! The Twins!"

It was Reddy that had got the first start and cleared the multitude, but Heady, by a careful system of jumping, was soon alongside hisbrother. He made a kind-hearted effort to cut Reddy off, with theresult that they wabbled together and fell in a heap. They did notmind the fact that two or three other sack-runners were falling allover them; nor did they care what became of the race: the desire ofeach was to tear off that sack and get at the wretched brother thathad caused the fall. Not being able to work their hands loose, theyrolled toward each other, and began violently to bunt heads. Findingthat this banner of battle hurt the giver of the blow as much as itdid the receiver of it, they rolled apart again, and began to kick ateach other in a most ludicrous and undignified manner. The Lakerimmerswere finally compelled to rush in on the track and separate the lovingbrothers. Strange to say, the Twins got no consolation for the loss ofthe race from the fact that the audience had laughed till the tearsran down its face. 

[Illustration: "TIED UP LIKE DUMMIES IN SACKS. "]

When the Running High Jump went to Troy on account of the inabilityof B. J. To reach even his own record, the Kingstonians began to feelanxious of results. Troy had won six events, and they had won onlyfour. The points, too, had fallen in such a way that there was a baddiscrepancy. 

Sawed-Off appeared upon the horizon as a temporary rescuer; and whilehe could not put the sixteen-pound bag of shot so far as he had inbetter days sent the sixteen-pound solid shot, still he threw itfarther than any of the Trojans could, and brought the Kingston scoreup to within one of the events gone to Troy. Pretty added one more bya display of grace and skill in the fencing-match with foils, thatsurprised even his best friends from Lakerim, and won the unanimousvote of the three judges, themselves skilful fencers. 

A wet blanket was thrown on the encouragement of the Kingstonians bytheir inferiority at weight-lifting. Sawed-Off was many pounds fromthe power of a certain powerful Trojan, who was a smaller man withbigger muscles. 

Then all the members of the Dozen had a special parlay with Jumbo, imploring him to save the day and the honor of both Kingston andLakerim by winning the wrestling-match. 

XXV

When Jumbo glanced across the floor and saw the man that was to be hisopponent striding toward the mat in the center of the floor, he wishedthat some one else had been placed as the keystone in the Kingstonarch of success. For Jumbo knew well the man's record as a wrestler. But Jumbo himself, while small, was well put together; and thoughbuilt, as he said, "close to the ground, " he was built for business. 

Since he had gone in for wrestling he had made it the specialty ofall his athletic exercises. He had practised everything that had anybearing on the strengthening of particular muscles or general agility. He had practised cart-wheels, hand-springs, back and front flips. Hehad worked with his neck at the chest-weight machine. He would walk onhis hands to strengthen his throat, and his collars had grown in a fewweeks from thirteen and a half to fifteen, and he could no longerwear his old shirts without splitting them. He made the mats in theKingston gymnasium almost his home. 

His special studies were bridging and spinning. He spent hours on hisback, rising to his two feet and his head and then rolling from oneshoulder to the other and spinning to his front. When he had hisbridge-building abilities fairly well started, he compelled his heavychum Sawed-Off to act as a living meal-bag, and rolled around uponthe top of his head and bridged, with Sawed-Off laying all his weightacross his chest. When he went to bed he bridged there until the bestof wrestlers, sleep, had downed him. When he woke in the morning, hefell out of bed to the floor, turning his head under him and rollingso as not to break his neck or any bones, and bridging rigidly uponhis head and bare feet. 

Jumbo knew that, whatever might be the ability of his rival, theTrojan Ware, at least he, Jumbo, could have his conscience easy withthe thought that he had made the most profitable use of the short timehe had spent on wrestling, and that he would put up as good a fight aswas in him. 

More than that no athlete can do. 

Jumbo and Ware met upon the mattress with their close-shaven headslooking like bulldogs' jowls; and they shook hands--if one can imaginebulldogs shaking hands. 

Jumbo had two cardinal principles, but he could put neither of theminto practice in the first maneuvers: the first was always to try toget out of one difficulty by dumping the opponent into another; thesecond was always to try for straight-arm leverages. 

Ware being the larger of the two, Jumbo was content to play a waitinggame and find out something of the methods of his burly opponent. Hedodged here and there, avoiding the reaching lobster-claws of Ware byquick wriggles or by slapping his hands away as they thrust. SuddenlyWare made a quick rush, and, breaking through Jumbo's interference, seized him around the body to bend him backward. But while the man wasstraining his hardest, Jumbo brought his hands around and placed themtogether in front of the pit of his stomach, so that the harder Waresqueezed the harder he pressed Jumbo's fists into his abdomen. 

Ware looked foolish at being foiled so neatly, and broke away, only tocome at Jumbo again, and clasp him so close that there was no room forhis fists to press against Ware's diaphragm. But now Jumbo suddenlyclasped his left arm back of Ware's neck, and with his right hand bentthe man's forehead back until he was glad enough to let go and springaway. Ware continued to run around Jumbo as a dog runs around a treedcat. But Jumbo always evaded his quick rushes till Ware, after manyfalse moves, finally made a sudden and unforeseen dash, seized Jumbo'sright hand with both of his, whirled in close, and, with his backagainst Jumbo's chest, carried the Lakerimmer's right arm straight andstiff across his shoulder. Bearing down with all his weight on thislever, and at the same time dropping to his knees, he shot Jumbo overhis shoulders, heels over head. 

"That Flying Mere was certainly a bird!" said Bobbles. 

Ware went down with Jumbo, to land on his chest and break any bridgethe boy might form. And the Flying Mere had been such a surprise, and the fall was so far and the floor so hard, that, while Jumboinstinctively tried to bridge, his effort collapsed. His two shoulderstouched. The bout was over. 

The first fall had been so quickly accomplished, and Jumbo had offeredso feeble a resistance, that the Troy faction at once accepted thewrestling-match as theirs, and the Kingstonians gave up the evening ashopelessly lost. 

Jumbo was especially covered with chagrin, since he had practised solong, and had builded so many hopes on this victory; worst of all, thewhole success of the contest between the two academies depended on hisvictory. 

When, then, after a rest, the referee called "Time!" Ware camestalking up jauntily and confidently; but Jumbo, instead of skulking, was up, and at, and on him like a wildcat. Ware had expected that theLakerim youngster would pursue the same elusive tactics as before, andhe was all amaze while Jumbo was seizing his left hand with his ownleft hand, and, darting round behind him, was bending Ware's armbackward and upward into the Hammerlock. 

The pain of this twist sent Ware's body forward, so that Jumbo couldreach up under his right armpit and, placing the palm of his righthand on the back of Ware's head, make use of that crowbar known as theright Half-Nelson. This pressure was gradually forcing Ware forward onthe top of his head; but he knew the proper break for the Hammerlock, and simply threw himself face forward on the mat. 

As he rose to his knees again Jumbo pounced on him like a hawk, andwhile Ware waited patiently the little Lakerimmer was reaching underWare's armpit again for another Half-Nelson; but Ware simply dodgedthe grasping of Jumbo's right hand, or, bringing his right armvigorously back and down, so checked Jumbo's arm that the boy couldnot reach his neck. Jumbo now tried, by leaning his left forearm andall his weight upon Ware's head, to bring it into reach; but Ware'sneck was too strong, and when he stiffened it Jumbo could not force itdown. 

Ware waited in amused patience to learn just how much Jumbo knew aboutwrestling. Jumbo wandered around on his knees, feinting for anotherHalf-Nelson, and making many false plays to throw Ware off his guard. 

Suddenly, while Ware seemed to be all neck against a Half-Nelson, Jumbo dropped to his knees near Ware's right arm, and, shooting hisleft arm under Ware's body and his right arm across beneath Ware'schin, laid violent hold on the man's left arm near the shoulder withwhat is known as the Farther-Arm Hold. Jumbo's movement was so quickand unexpected that Ware could not parry it by throwing his left legout and forward for a brake. He realized at once that he would have togo, and when Jumbo gave a quick yank he rolled over and bridged. ButJumbo followed him quickly over, and clasping Ware's left arm betweenhis legs, he forced the right arm out straight also with both hishands so that Ware could not roll. Then he simply pressed with all hisforce upon Ware's chest. And waited. 

Also weighted. 

Ware squirmed and wriggled and grunted and writhed, but there was noescape for him, and while he stuck it out manfully, with Jumbo heavyupon him, he knew that he was a goner. 

And finally, with a sickly groan, London Bridge came a-falling down. 

The bout was Jumbo's, and he retired to his corner with a heart muchlighter. The applause of the audience, the rip-roaring enthusiasmof the Kingston Academy yell, followed by the beloved club cry ofLakerim, rejoiced him mightily. He had put down a man far heavierthan he; and he felt that possibly, perchance, maybe, there was aprobability of a contingency in which he might be able to have achance of downing him once more--perhaps. 

It was a very cool and cautious young man that came forward torepresent Kingston when the referee exclaimed:

"Shake hands for the third and last bout!"

Jumbo, as soon as he had released Ware's fingers, dropped to hishands and knees on the mat, squatting far back on his haunches, andmanifested a cheerful willingness to go almost anywhere except on theback of his two shoulders. 

It was Ware's turn to be aggressive now, for he had been laughed atnot a little for being downed by so small an opponent. He spent sometime and more strength in picking Jumbo up bodily from the mat anddropping him all over the place. Jumbo's practice at bridging stoodhim in excellent stead now, and he got out of many a tight corner by aquick, firm bridge or a sudden spin. 

Ware time after time forced one of the boy's shoulders to the mat, and strove with all his vim to force the other shoulder down. Andhe generally succeeded; but the first always came up. Jumbo wentwillingly from one shoulder to the other, but never from one to both. He frequently showed a most obliging disposition, and did what Warewanted him to, or, rather, he did just that and a little more--healways went too far; and Ware was becoming convinced that he nevercould get those two obstinate shoulder-blades to the mat at the sametime. 

After much puttering, he reached the goal of his ambition, and gotthe deadly Full-Nelson on Jumbo's head, and forced it slowly andirresistibly down. Just as he was congratulating himself that he hadhis fish landed, Jumbo suddenly whirled his legs forward and assumed asitting position. The whole problem was reversed. Ware rose wearily tohis feet, and Jumbo returned to his hands and knees. 

Once more Ware strove for the Nelson. He was jabbing Jumbo's head andtrying to shove it down within reach of his right hand. Suddenly, witha surprising abruptness, Jumbo's head was not there, --he had jerked itquickly to one side, --and Ware's hand slipped down and almost touchedthe floor. But the watchful Jumbo had seized Ware's wrist withboth hands, and returned to the big fellow the compliment of theStraight-Ann Leverage and the Flying Mere which had been so fatalto himself in the first bout. Ware's fall was not nearly so far asJumbo's had been, and he managed to bridge and save himself. 

Before Jumbo could settle on his chest, Ware was out of danger. But hewent to his hands and knees in a defensive attitude that showed he wasnearly worn out. 

Jumbo did not see just what right Ware had to imitate his ownposition, and the two of them sprawled like frogs, eying each otherjealously. 

Jumbo soon saw that he was expected to take the aggressive or goto sleep; so, with a lazy sigh, he began snooping around for thosenuggets of wrestling, the Nelsons. After foiling many efforts, theTrojan noted all at once that Jumbo's head was not above Ware'sshoulders, but back of the right armpit. In a flash a thought of pitywent through Ware's brain. 

"Poor fool!" he almost groaned aloud; and reaching back, he gatheredJumbo's head into chancery. 

A sigh went up from all Kingston, and Sawed-Off gasped:

"Poor Jumbo 's gone!"

But just as Ware, chuckling with glee, started to roll Jumbo over, theboy swung at right angles across Ware's back, and brought the Trojan'sarm helplessly to the Hammerlock. 

This was a new trick to Ware, one he had never heard of, but one thathe understood and respected immediately. He yielded to it judiciously, and managed to spin on his head before Jumbo could land on his chest. 

Ware had more respect now for Jumbo, and decided to keep him on thedefensive, especially as a bystander announced that the time wasalmost up. 

Ware rushed the contest, and, after many failures, managed to secure aperfect Full-Nelson. Jumbo's position was such that there was no wayfor him to squirm out. He resisted until it seemed that his neck wouldbreak. In vain. His head was slowly forced under. 

And now his shoulders began to follow, and he was rolling over on hisback. 

One shoulder is down. 

The referee is on all fours, his cheek almost to the ground. He iswatching for the meeting of those two shoulders upon the mat. 

The Kingstonians have given up, and the Trojans have their cheers allready. 

And now the despairing Jumbo feels that his last minute has come. Butjust for the fraction of a second he sees that the cautious Ware isslightly changing his hold. 

With a sudden, a terrific effort, he throws all his soul into hismuscles--closes his arms like a vise on Ware's arms. The Nelson isbroken, or weakened into uselessness. He draws his head into hisshoulders as a turtle's head is drawn into its shell, whirls likelightning on the top of his head to his other shoulder, and on over, carrying the horrified Ware with him, plouncing the Trojan flat on hisback, and plumping down on top of him. 

And the excited referee went over on his back also, and kicked hisheels foolishly in the air as he cried:

"Down!"

Jumbo had won the match. 

This brought the score of contests back to a tie, and the result ofthese Olympic games now rested entirely on the victors of the Tug ofWar. 

XXVI

Curiously enough, the Trojans and the Kingstonians had each won aseries of firsts, seconds, and thirds that totaled up the same. So theTug of War, which had been intended only for an exhibition, became ina sense the deciding event of the whole contest. 

The captain of the Kingston four was the large Sawed-Off, who was alsothe anchor of his team. He came out upon the floor, wearing around hiswaist a belt that was almost as graceful as a horse-collar, and quiteas heavy, made, as it was, of padded leather. It was suspended fromhis shoulders like a life-belt, and carried a deep groove around themiddle of it. 

The Troy captain had a similar contrivance about him, and he lookedsomewhat contemptuously upon the Kingstonians, who had not the beefy, brawny look of his own big four. 

The eight took their places on the long board, each man with his feetagainst a cleat. The rope was marked in its exact center with a whitecord, and held there by a lever, which the umpire pressed down withhis foot. 

The Troy tuggers took a stout hold on the rope and faced theKingstonians gloweringly. The Kingston men, however, faced to the rearand straddled the rope--all except Sawed-Off, who had wrapped it roundhis belt, and taken a hitch in it for security. He faced the Trojans, and hoped that science would defeat beef once more in the history ofathletics. 

When all were ready the umpire shouted "Go!" and at the same instantreleased the lever and the cable. 

The Trojans threw all their muscle into one terrific jerk; but each ofSawed-Off's men, gripping the cable in front of him at arm's-length, fell forward, face down. 

By the impact of their full weight, and by relying not merely upontheir arms, but on the whole pull of back and legs, the Kingstoniansgave the rope a yank that would have annoyed an oak-tree, andcertainly left the Trojans no chance. 

After this first assault the teams found themselves thus: TheKingstonians were stretched prone upon the board with their legsstraight against the cleats; Sawed-Off was braced against his cleatand seated, facing Troy. The rival team was seated, but with kneesbent; and their captain glared amazed at Sawed-Off, who was busilytaking in over a foot of captured cable. 

The Trojan captain, Winthrop by name, gave a signal grunt, to whichhis men responded with a fury, regaining about two of the lost inches. This lifted Sawed-Off slightly off the board, and in response to threeor four bitter wrenches from Troy, he was forced to let them have sixinches more cable, lest they cut him in two like a cake of soap. 

But Kingston had learned, by painful experience, the signals of theTroy captain; and just as the Trojans were reaching confidentlyforward for a new hold, the alert Sawed-Off murmured a quick hint, andhis men gave a sudden hunch that took the enemy unawares, and broughtback home three inches of beautiful rope. The same watchfulness wonanother three; and there they held the white string, a foot to theirside, when the time was up and the lever was clamped down. 

After a short rest, the men resined their hands anew and prepared forthe second pull. The Trojan captain had been wise enough to see theadvantage of the Kingston forward fall, and he was not too modest toadopt it. 

When the lever was supped the second time both teams fell facedownward. But now Troy's greater bulk told to her advantage, and shecarried the white cord six inches to her side. 

The Kingstons lay with their knees bent. 

Now Sawed-Off tried a preconcerted trick signal. With ominous tone hecried:

"Now, boys--all together--heave!"

At the word "heave" the Trojans braced like oxen against the expectedjerk; but none came, and they relaxed a little, feeling that they hadbeen fooled. But Sawed-Off's men were slowly and silently countingfive, and then, with a mighty heave, they yearned forward, andcatching the Winthrop team unprepared, got back four inches. Theytried it again, and made only about an inch. A third time Sawed-Offgave the signal, and the Trojans, recognizing it, waited a bit beforebracing for the shock. But for the third time Sawed-Off had arrangedthat the pull should immediately follow the command. Again the Trojanswere fooled, and the white went two inches into Kingston territory. 

The Trojans now grew angry and panicky, and began to wrench and twistwithout regard for one another. The result of this was that Kingstongradually gained three inches more before Winthrop could coax his menback to reason and team-work. 

The time was almost gone now, and he got his men into a series ofwell-concerted, steady, deadly efforts, that threatened to bring thewhole Kingston four over with the snail-like white cord. But Sawed-Offpleaded with his men, and they buried their faces in the board andworked like mad. To the spectators they seemed hardly to move, butunder their skins their muscles were crowding and shoving like a gangof slaves, and fairly squeezing streams of sweat out of them as iftheir gleaming hides were sponges. 

And then, after what seemed a whole night of agony, the white cordbudged no more, though the Trojans pulled themselves almost insideout; and suddenly the lever nipped the rope, and the contest was over. The Trojans were all faint, and the head of Winthrop fell forwardlimply. Even Sawed-Off was so dizzy that he had to be helped acrossthe floor by his friends. But they were glad enough to pay him thisaid. 

All Kingston had learned to love the sturdy giant, and the Lakerimmerswere prouder of him than ever, for it was through him that the fatalbalance had been pulled down to Kingston's side, so that the teamcould take another victory home with them to the Academy. 

XXVII

As the school year rolled on toward its finish in June, times becamebusier and busier for the students, especially for the Lakerimmers, who felt a great responsibility upon their shoulders, theresponsibility of keeping the Lakerim Athletic Club pennant flyingto the fore in all the different businesses of academic life--in theclassroom, at the prize speaking, in the debating society, and, mostof all, in the different athletic affairs. 

It was no longer necessary, as it had been at home in Lakerim, for thesame twelve men to play all the games known to humanity--to make aspecialty of everything, so to speak. At Kingston, while they werestill one body and soul, and kept up their union with constant powwowsin one another's rooms, but most often in Tug's, they were dividedvariously among the athletic teams, where each one felt that his ownhonor was Lakerim's. 

Their motto was the motto of the Three Musketeers: "All for one, andone for all. "

The springtime athletics found the best of them choosing between theboat crew and the ball team. It was a hard choice for some of themwho loved to be Jacks-at-all-trades, but a choice was necessary. TheKingston Academy possessed so many good fellows that not all of theDozen found a place on the eight or the nine; still, there wereenough of them successful to keep Lakerim material still strongly inevidence. 

Of the men that tried for the crew, all were sifted out, gradually, except B. J. , Quiz, and Punk. The training was a severe one, under acoach who had graduated some years before from Kingston, and had comeback to bring his beloved Academy first across the line, as it hadgone the year he had captained the crew. 

As the training went on, the man who had been elected captain of theeight worked so faithfully--or overworked so faithfully--that he wastrained up to the finest point some two or three weeks before thegreat regatta of academies. Every day after that he lost in form, inspite of himself, and the coach had finally to make him abdicate thethrone; and Punk, who had worked in his usual slow and conservativefashion, seemed the fittest man to succeed him. So Punk became captainof the crew, and found himself at the old post of stroke-oar. 

On the day of the great Henley of the Interscholastic League, when allthe crews had got away in their best style, after two vexatious falsestarts, Punk slowly, and without any impatience, urged his crew pastall the others, till Kingston led them all. 

From this place he could study his rivals well, and after someshifting of positions, he saw the Troy Latin School eight comingcleanly out of the parade and making swiftly after him. Suddenly agreat nervousness seized him, because he remembered the time, the yearbefore, when the Lakerim crew rowed Troy, and when his oar had brokenjust before the finish, so that he had been compelled to jump out intothe water, and had missed the joy of riding over the line with hiswinning Lakerimmers. He wondered now if this oar would also play himfalse. 

But he had selected it with experienced care, and hard as he strainedit, and pathetically as it groaned, it stood him in good stead, and carried him, and the seven who rowed with him, safely into theparadise of victory. 

XXVIII

Of the Lakerimmers who tried for the baseball team, four men wereelevated to the glory of positions on the regular nine. 

Sleepy had somehow proved that left-field was safer when he wasseeming to take a nap there than it was under the guard of any of themore restless players. 

Tug was a second baseman, whose cool head made him a good man at thatpivot of the field; he was an able assistant to the right-field, aready back-stop to the short-stop, and a perfect spider for takinginto his web all the wild throws that came slashing from the homeplate to cut off those who dared to try to steal his base. 

Sawed-Off was the nearest of all the Kingstonians to resembling atelegraph-pole, so he had no real competitors for first base. Hedeclined to play, however, unless Jumbo were given the position ofshort-stop; and Jumbo soon proved that he had some other rights to theposition besides a powerful pull. 

Reddy and Heady had worked like beavers to be accepted as the battery, but the pitcher and catcher of the year before were so satisfactorythat the Twins could get no nearer to their ambitions than thesubstitute-list, and there it seemed they were pretty sure to remainupon the shelf, in spite of all the practice they had kept up, eventhrough the winter. 

The Kingston ball-team had found its only rival to the championship ofthe Interscholastic League in the nine from the Charleston PreparatorySchool. The Kingstonians all plucked up hope, however, when they foundthemselves at the end of the season one game ahead of Charleston; or, at least, they called it one game ahead, for Charleston had played offits schedule, and Kingston had only one more nine to defeat, and thatwas the Brownsville School for Boys, the poorest team in the wholeLeague, a pack of good-for-nothings with butter on their fingers andholes in their bats. So Kingston counted the pennant as good as won. 

Down the team went to Brownsville, then, just to see how big a scorethey could roll up. Back they came from Brownsville so dazed theyalmost rode past the Kingston station. For when they had reached theballground, one of those curious moods that attacks a team as itattacks a single person seized them and took away the whole knack thathad won them so many games. The Brownsvillers, on the other hand, seemed to have been inspired by something in the air. They simplycould not muff the ball or strike out. They found and pounded thecurves of the Kingston pitcher so badly that the substitute batterywould have been put in had they not been left behind because it wasnot thought worth while to pay their fare down to Brownsville. 

The upshot of the horrible afternoon was that Brownsville sentKingston home with its feelings bruised black and blue, and its recorddone up in cotton. It was a good thing that Kingston had prepared nobonfire for the victory they had thought would be so easy, because ifthe defeated nine had been met with such a mockery they would surelyhave perished of mortification. 

The loss of this game--think of it, the score was 14 to 2!--tied theKingstonians with the Charlestonians, and another game was necessaryto decide the contest for the pennant. That game was immediatelyarranged for commencement week on the Kingston grounds. 

And now the Twins, who had resigned themselves to having never achance on the nine, found themselves suddenly called upon to pitch andcatch in _the_ game of the year; for the drubbing the regular pitcherhad received had destroyed the confidence of the team in his abilityto pitch a second time successfully against the Charlestonians. 

To make matters worse, the game was to come almost in the very midstof the final examinations of the year, and the Twins became so mixedup in their efforts to cram into their heads all the knowledge in theworld, and to pull out of their fingers all of the curves known toscience, that one day Reddy said to Heady:

"I half believe that when I get up for oral examination I'll be sorattled that, instead of answering the question, I'll try to throw theink-bottle on an upshoot at the professor's head. "

And Heady answered, even more glumly:

"I wouldn't mind that so much; what I'm afraid of is that when youreally need to use that out-curve you'll throw only a few dates at thebatter. I will signal for an out-curve, and you'll stand in the boxand tie yourself in a bow-knot, and throw at me something aboutColumbus discovering America in 1776; or you'll reel off some problemabout plastering the inside of a room, leaving room for four doors andsix windows. "

When the day of the game arrived, however, Reddy and Heady took theirpositions with the proud satisfaction of knowing that they had passedall their school-book examinations. Now they wondered what percentagethey would make in their baseball examination. 

Sleepy, however, went out to left-field not knowing where he stood. He knew so little about his books, indeed, that even after theexamination was over he could tell none of the fellows what answers hehad made to what questions, and so they could not tell him whether orno he had failed ignominiously or passed accidentally. This worry, however, sat very lightly on Sleepy's nerves. 

The largest crowd of the year was gathered to witness the greatestgame of the year, and Charleston and Kingston were tuned up to thehighest pitch they could reach without breaking. The day was perfect, and in the preliminary practice the Kingstonians showed that they weredetermined to wipe out the disgrace of the Brownsville game, or atleast to cover it up with the scalps of the Charlestonians. 

At length the Charlestonians were called in by their captain, for theywere first at bat. The Kingstonians dispread themselves over the fieldin their various positions. The umpire tossed to the nervous Reddywhat seemed to be a snowball, whose whiteness he immediately coveredwith dust from the box. The Charlestonian batter came to the plate andtapped it smartly three or four times. The umpire sang out:

"Play-ball!"

Reddy cast a nervous look around the field, then went into a spasmin which he seemed to be trying to "skin the cat" on an invisibleturning-pole. Out of the mix-up he suddenly straightened himself. Thefirst baseman saw a dusty white cannon-ball shoot past him, and heardthe umpire's dulcet voice growl:

"Strike!"

Which pleased the Kingston audience so mightily that they broke forthinto cheers and applause that upset Reddy so completely that the nextball slipped from his hand and came toward the first baseman so gentlythat he could hardly have missed it had he tried. 

The Kingstonian cheer disappeared in a groan as everybody heard thatunmistakable whack that resounds whenever the bat and the ball meetface to face. But the very sureness of the hit was its ruination, forit went soaring like a carrier-pigeon straight home to the hands ofSleepy, who, without moving from his place, reached up and took it in. 

The Kingston groan was now changed back again to a cheer, and thefirst batter of the first half of the first inning had scored thefirst "out. "

The Charleston third baseman now came to the bat. Three times insuccession Reddy failed to get the ball over the plate, and the manevidently had made up his mind that he was to get his base on balls, for at the fourth pitch he dropped his bat and started for first base, only to be called back by the umpire's voice declaring a strike. Tohis immense disgust, two other strikes followed it, and he went to thebench instead of to the base. 

The third Charlestonian caught the first ball pitched by Reddy, andsent it bounding toward Jumbo, who ripped it off the ground and hadit in the hands of his chum Sawed-Off before the Charlestonian washalf-way to first base. 

This retired the side, and the Kingstonians came in to bat amid apleasant April shower of applause. 

Sawed-Off was the first Kingston man to take a club to theCharlestonians. He waved his bat violently up and down, and staredfiercely at the Charleston pitcher. His ferocity disappeared, however, when he saw the ball coming at a frightful speed straight at him, andthreatening to take a large scoop out of his stomach. He stretched upand back and away from it with a ridiculous wiggle, that was the moreridiculous when he saw the ball curve harmlessly over the plate andheard the umpire cry:

"Strike--one!"

He upbraided himself for his fear, and when the next ball was pitched, though he felt sure that it was going to strike him on the shoulder, he did not budge. But here he made mistake number two; for the balldid not curve as the pitcher had intended, but gave the batter a sharpnip just where it said it would. The only apology the pitcher made wasthe rueful look with which he watched Sawed-Off going down to firstbase. 

The Kingston center-fielder was the next at the bat, and he sent alittle Roman candle of a fly that fell cozily into the third baseman'shands. 

Jumbo now came to the plate, and swinged at the ball so violently thatone might have thought he was trying to lift Sawed-Off bodily fromfirst base to second. But he managed only to send a slow coach of aliner, that raced him to first base and beat him there. Sawed-Off, however, had managed to make second before the Charleston firstbaseman could throw him out, and there he pined away, for the Kingstonthird baseman struck out, possibly in compliment to the Charlestonthird baseman, who had done the same thing. 

This complimentary spirit seemed to fill the short-stop also, for hesent down to his rival Jumbo a considerately easy little fly, whichstuck to Jumbo's palms as firmly as if there had been fly-paper onthem. 

The Charleston catcher now found Reddy for a clean base-hit betweenleft and center field. He tried to stretch it into a two-base hit, andthe Kingston center fielded the ball in so slowly that he succeeded inhis grasping attempt. 

The Charlestonian second baseman made a sacrifice hit that advancedthe catcher to third. And now the pitcher came to the bat, eager tobring home the wretch at whom he had hurled his swiftest curves. Hisanxiety led him into making two foolish jabs at curves that were outof his reach, and finally he caught one just on the tip of his bat, and it went neatly into Tug's hand, leaving the catcher to perish onthird base. 

Sleepy now came to the bat for Kingston, and, without making anyundue exertion, deftly placed a fly between the short-stop and theleft-fielder, and reached first base on a canter. He made no rashattempts to steal second, but waited to be assisted there. TheKingston right-fielder, however, struck out and made way for Reddy. 

Reddy, though a pitcher, was, like most pitchers, unable to solve themystery of a rival's curves for more than a little grounder, that losthim first base, and forced Sleepy to a most uncomfortable exertion tokeep from being headed off at second. 

Tug now came to the bat; but, unfortunately, while the hit he knockedwas a sturdy one, it went toward third base, and Sleepy did not dareventure off second, though he made a feint at third which engaged thebaseman's attention until Tug reached first. 

Heady now came to the bat, and some of the Charlestonians insistedthat he had batted before; but they were soon convinced of their errorwhen the Twins were placed side by side. 

Heady puzzled them even more, however, by scratching off just suchanother measly bunt as his brother had failed with, and when he wasput out at first Sleepy and Tug realized that their running had beenin vain. Sleepy thought of the terrific inconvenience the struggle forthe three bases had caused him, and was almost sorry that he had notstruck out in the first place. 

The Charleston right-fielder opened the third inning with a gracefulfly just this side the right-fielder's reach, in that field wherebase-hits seem to grow most plentifully. The Kingston center-fielderwas presented with a base on balls, which forced the right-fielder tosecond base. Now Reddy recovered sufficiently to strike out the nextCharleston batter, though the one after him sent into right field along, low fly, which the Kingston right-fielder caught on the firstbound, and hurled furiously to third base to head off the Charlestonrunner. The throw was wild, and a sickening sensation went through thehearts of all as they saw it hurtle past the third baseman. 

The Charleston runner rejoiced, and giving the bag a mere touch withhis foot, started gaily for home. A warning cry from his coach, however, checked him in full speed, and he whirled about to see thatSleepy, foreseeing the throw from right-field as soon as the ball leftthe bat, had sauntered over behind the third baseman, had stopped thewild throw, and now stood waiting for the base-runner to declare hisintention before he threw the ball. The Charlestonian made a quickdash to get back to third; but Sleepy had the ball in the thirdbaseman's hands before him. 

Now the third baseman saw that the second Kingston runner had alsobeen wavering uncertainly between second and third, ready to reachthird if Sleepy threw for home, and to return to second if he threwto third. The third baseman started toward the runner, making manypretenses of throwing the ball, and keeping the poor base-runner onsuch a razor-edge of uncertainty that he actually allowed himself tobe touched out with barely a wriggle. This double play retired theside. It was credited to the third baseman; but the real glorybelonged to Sleepy, and the crowd gave him the applause. 

Once more Sawed-Off towered at the bat. He was willing to take anotherbruise if he could be assured of getting to first base; but thepitcher was so wary of striking him this time that he gave him hisbase on balls, and Sawed-Off lifted his hat to him in gratitude forthis second gift. 

The center-fielder knocked a fly into the hands of the first baseman, who stood on the bag. Sawed-Off barely escaped falling victim to adouble play by beating the fly to first. 

Again Jumbo labored mightily to advance Sawed-Off, and did indeedget him to second on a well-situated base-hit. The next Kingstonian, however, the third baseman, knocked to the second baseman a bee-linerthat was so straight and hot that the second baseman could neitherhave dodged nor missed it had he tried; so he just held on to it, andset his foot on the bag, and caught Sawed-Off before he could get backto the base. 

The fourth inning was opened by a Charlestonian, who sent a singingfly right over Sawed-Off's head. He seemed to double his length likea jack-knife. When he shut up again, however, the ball was not in hishand, but down in the right-field. It was a master stroke, but, worthonly one base to Charleston. 

The second man at the bat fell prey to Reddy's bewildering curves, andReddy heard again that sweetest sound a pitcher can hear, the umpire'svoice crying:

"Striker--out!"

The Charlestonian who had lined out the beautiful base-hit provedhimself the possessor of a pair of heels as good as his pair of eyes, and just as Reddy had declared by his motions such a readiness topitch the ball that he could not have changed his mind without beingdeclared guilty of a balk--just at that instant the Charlestoniandashed madly for second base. Heady snatched off his mask and threwthe ball to second with all the speed and correctness he was masterof; but the throw went just so far to the right that Tug, leaning farout, could not recover himself in time to touch the runner. 

[Illustration: "'STRIKER--OUT!'"]

These two now began to play a game of hide-and-seek about second base, much to Reddy's discomfort. There is nothing so annoying to a pitcheras the presence of a courageous and speedy base-runner on the secondbase; for the pitcher has always the threefold terror that in whirlingsuddenly he may be found guilty of balking, or in facing about quicklyhe may make a wild throw; and yet if he does not keep a sharp eye inthe back of his head, the base-runner can play off far enough to standa good chance of stealing third safely. 

Reddy engaged in this three-cornered duel so ardently that before heknew it he had given the man at the bat a base on balls. This added tohis confusion, and seeing at the bat the Charleston catcher who had inthe second inning knocked out a perfect base-hit and made two baseson it, Reddy left the wily fox at second base to his own devices, andpaid no heed to Tug's efforts to beat the man back to second. Suddenlythe fellow made a dart for third; though Heady's throw was straightand swift, the fellow dived for the base, and slid into safety underthe ball. In the shadow of this dash the other Charleston base-runnertook second base without protest. 

The Charleston catcher was evidently determined to bring in at leastone run, or die trying. He smashed at every ball that Reddy pitched. He only succeeded, however, in making a number of fouls. But Reddyshuddered for the score when he realized how well the Charlestoncatcher was studying his best curves. Suddenly the man struck up asky-scraping foul. Everybody yelled at once: "Over your head!"

And Heady, ripping away his mask again, whirled round and round, trying to find the little globule in the dazzling sky. He gimleted allover the space back of the plate before he finally made out the ballcoming to earth many feet in front of him. He made a desperate lungefor it and caught it. And Reddy's groan of relief could be heard clearfrom the pitcher's box. 

The Charleston catcher, in a great huff, threw his bat to the groundwith such violence that it broke, and he gave way to the secondbaseman, who had made a sacrifice hit in the second inning--whichadvanced the catcher one base. The man realized, however, that asacrifice in this inning, with two men already out, would not be soadvantageous as before. He made an heroic attempt, resulting in aclean drive that hummed past Reddy like a Mauser bullet, and chose apath exactly between Jumbo and Tug. It was evident that no Kingstonman could stop it in time to throw either to first base or home aheadof a Charleston man; but since Kingston could not put the side outbefore a run was scored, the Charlestonians cheerfully consented toput themselves out; that is, the base-runner on second, making afurious dash for third, ran ker-plunk into the ball, which recordeditself on his funny-bone. 

When he fell to the ground yelping with torment, I am afraid thatthe Kingstonians showed little of the Good Samaritan spirit, for theball-nine and the Kingston sympathizers in the crowd indulged ina jubilation such as a Roman throng gave vent to when a favoritegladiator had floored some new savage. 

The Kingston men came in from the field arm in arm, but it was notlong before they were once more sauntering out into the field, for notone of them reached first base. 

A game without runs is not usually half so interesting to the crowd asone in which there is free batting and a generous sprinkling of runs. The average spectator is not sport enough to feel sorry for thepitcher when a home run has been knocked over the fence, or to feelsorry for a fielder who lets a ball through his fingers and sends thebase-runners on their way rejoicing. To your thorough sport, though, a scientific, well-balanced game is the most interesting. He likes tosee runs earned, if scored at all, and has sympathy but no interestfor a pitcher who permits himself to be knocked out of the box. 

A more nicely balanced game than this between Kingston and Charlestoncould hardly be imagined, and there was something in the air or inthe game that made the young teams play like veterans. Each workedtogether like a clock of nine cog-wheels. 

Though the next four innings were altogether different from oneanother in batting and fielding, they were exactly alike in that theywere all totaled at the bottom of the column, with a large blankgoose-egg. 

At the opening of the ninth inning even the uncultured members of thecrowd--those unscientific ingoramuses that had voted the game a dullone because no one had made the circuit of the bases--even these satup and breathed fast, and wondered what was going to happen. They hadnot drawn many breaths before the Kingston catcher rapped on the plateand threw back his bat to knock the stuffing out of any ball thatReddy might hurl at him; and, indeed, his intentions were nearlyrealized, for the very first throw that Reddy made hit the bull's-eyeon the Charleston bat, and then leaped away with a thwack. 

Reddy leaped for it first, but it went far from his fingers. 

Next after him Tug went up into the air and fell back beautifully. 

And after him--just as if they had been jumping-jacks--thecenter-fielder bounded high and clutched at the ball, but past hisfinger-tips, too, it went, and he turned ignominiously after it. If hewas running the Charlestonian was flying. He shot across first base, and on, just grazing second base--unseen by Tug, who had turned hisback and was yelling vainly to the center-fielder to throw him theball he had not yet caught up with. On the Charlestonian sped in ablind hurry. He very much resembled a young man decidedly anxious toget home as soon as possible. He flew past third base and on down likean antelope to the plate. This he spurned with his toe as he ran on, unable to check his furious impetus, until he fell in the arms of theother Charleston players on the bench. 

And then the Charleston faction in the crowd raised crawled in at theback door and been ousted unceremoniously!

The Kingstonians had certainly played a beautiful game, butthe Charlestonians had played one quite as good. All that theKingston-lovers could do when they saw their nine come to the bat forthe ninth time was to look uncomfortable, mop their brows, and remark:

"Whew!"

The Kingstonian center-fielder was the first to the bat, and he struckout. 

Then Jumbo appeared, and played a waiting game he was very fond of:while pretending to be willing to hit anything that was pitched, healmost always let the ball go by him; and since he was so short andstocky, --"built so close to the ground, " as he expressed it, --thepitcher usually threw too high, and Jumbo got his base on ballsa dozen times where he earned it with a base-hit or lost it on astrike-out. 

And now he reached first base in his old pet way, and made ardentpreparations to steal second; but his enterprise was short-lived, forthe Kingston third baseman knocked an easy grounder to the short-stop, who picked it from the ground and tossed it into the second baseman'shands almost with one motion; and the second baseman, just touchingthe base with his toe to put Jumbo out on a forced run, made a cleanthrow to first that put out the batsman also, and with him the side. 

The scientists marked down upon the calendars of their memory the factthat they had seen two preparatory school teams play a nine-inninggame without scoring a run. The others in the crowd only felt sickwith hope deferred, and wondered if that home plate were going to beas difficult to reach as the north pole. 

The Charleston third baseman came to the bat first for his side in thetenth inning, and he struck out. The left-fielder followed him, andby knocking a little bunt that buzzed like a top just in front of theplate, managed to agonize his way to first base before Reddy and Headycould field the ball, both of them having jumped for it and reached itat the same time. But this man, making a rash and foolish effort tosteal second, was given the eighteenth-century punishment of death fortheft, Heady having made a perfect throw from the plate. 

The Charleston short-stop reached second on a fly muffed by theKingston right-fielder--the first error made by this excellent player. 

And now once more the redoubtable Charleston catcher appeared at thebat. Once more he showed his understanding of Reddy's science. Thistime he was evidently determined to wipe out the mistake he had madeof too great haste on his previous home runs. After warming up withtwo strikes, and letting three balls pass, he found the ball where hewanted it, and drove out into left-field a magnificent fly. 

Pretty saw it coming, and turning, ran to the best of his ability forthe uttermost edge of his field, hoping only to delay the course ofthe ball. At length it overtook him, and even as he ran he sprang intothe air and clutched upward for it, and struck it as if he would batit back to the home plate. 

It did not stick to his fingers, but none of the scorers counted it asan error on the clean square beside his name under the letter E. Hehad not achieved the impossible of catching it, but he had done thenext best thing: he had knocked it to the ground and run it down intwo or three steps, and turned, and drawing backward till the ballalmost touched the ground behind him, had strained every muscle with afurious lunge, and sent the ball flying for home in a desperate racewith the Charleston short-stop, who had passed third base and wassprinting for dear life homeward. 

At the plate stood Heady, beckoning the carrier-pigeon home withfrantic hope, Sawed-Off and Reddy both rushing to get behind him andback him up, so that at least not more than one run should be scored. 

With a gasp of resolve the Charleston runner, seeing by Heady's eyesthat the ball was just at hand, flung himself to the ground, hoping tolay at least a finger-tip on the plate; but there was a quick thwackas the ball struck Heady's gloves, there was a stinging blow at theCharlestonian's right shoulder-blade, and the shrill cry of theumpire:

"Out!"

Once more the spectators shifted in their seats and knit their brows, and observed:

"Whew!"

And now Sleepy opened the second half of the tenth inning. He had alittle splutter of applause for his magnificent throw when he came tothe plate; but he either was dreaming of base-hits and did nothear it, or was too lazy to lift his cap, for he made no sign ofrecognition. He made a sign of recognition of the Charleston'spitcher's first upshoot, however, for he sent it spinning leisurelydown into right-field--so leisurely that even he beat it to firstbase. The Kingston right-fielder now atoned for his previous error bya ringing hit that took Sleepy on a comfortable jog to second base andplaced himself safely on first. 

Then Reddy came to the bat. He was saved the chagrin of striking outto his deadly rival, but the hit he knocked was only a little fly thatthe pitcher caught. The two base-runners, however, had not had greatexpectations of Reddy's batting prowess, so they did not stray farfrom their bases, and were not caught napping. 

Now Tug came to the bat; and while he was gathering his strength fora death-dealing blow at the ball, the two base-runners made ready totake advantage of anything he should hit. The right-fielder played offtoo far, and, to Tug's despair, was caught by a quick throw from thepitcher to the first baseman. 

Tug's heart turned sick within him, for there were two men out, andthe only man on base was Sleepy, who could never be counted on to makea two-base run on a one-base hit. 

As Tug stood bewailing his fate, the ball shot past him, and theumpire cried:

"Strike--one!"

Tug shook himself together with a jolt, and struck furiously at thenext ball. 

"Strike--two!" sang the umpire. 

And now the umpire had upon his lips the fatal words:

"Strike--three!"

For as he looked down the line traced in the air by the ball, he sawthat Tug had misjudged it. But for once science meant suicide; forthough Tug struck wildly, the ball condescendingly curved down andfell full and fair upon the bat, and danced off again over the firstbaseman's head and toward the feet of the right-fielder. This worthyplayer ran swiftly for it and bent forward, but he could not reach it. It struck him a smarting whack on the instep, and bounded off outsidethe foul-line; and while he limped painfully after it, there was timeeven for the sleepy Sleepy to reach the plate and score a run. 

And then the right-fielder, half blinded with pain, threw the ball atnobody in particular, and it went into the crowd back of third base, and Tug came in unopposed. 

And since the game was now Kingston's, no one waited to see whetherHeady would have knocked a home run or struck out. He was not given achance to bat. 

CONCLUSION

There was great rejoicing in Kingston that night, much croaking oftin horns, and much building of bonfires. The athletic year had beenremarkably successful, and every one realized the vital part playedin that success by the men from Lakerim--the Dozen, who had made someenemies, as all active people must, and had made many more friends, asall active people may. 

The rejoicing of the Lakerimmers themselves had a faint tang ofregret, for while they were all to go back to the same town togetherfor their vacation, yet they knew that this would be the last year ofschool life they could ever spend together. Next year History, Punk, Sawed-Off, and Jumbo were to go to college. The others had at leastone more year of preparatory work. 

And they thought, too, that this first separation into two parts wasonly the beginning of many separations that should finally scatterthem perhaps over the four quarters of the globe. 

There was Bobbles, for instance, who had an uncle that was a greatsugar magnate in the Hawaiian Islands, and had offered him a positionthere whenever he was ready for it. 

B. J. Had been promised an appointment to Annapolis, for he would be asailor and an officer of Uncle Sam's navy. 

And Tug had been offered a chance to try for West Point, and therewere no dangers for him in either the rigid mental or the physicalexaminations. 

Pretty, who had shown a wonderful gift for modeling in clay, was goingsome day to Paris to study sculpture. 

And Quiz looked forward to being a lawyer. 

The Twins would go into business, since their father's busy sawmillproperty would descend to both of them, and, as they thought it out, could not very well be divided. Plainly they must make the best oflife together. It promised to be a lively existence, but a pleasantone withal. 

History hoped to be a great writer some day, and Punk would be aprofessor of something staid and quiet, Latin most probably. 

Sawed-Off and Jumbo had not made up their minds as to just whatthe future was to hold for them, but they agreed, that it must besomething in partnership. 

Sleepy had never a fancy of what coming years should bring him to do;he preferred to postpone the unpleasant task of making up his mind, and only took the trouble to hope that the future would give himsomething that offered plenty of time for sleeping and eating. 

Late into the night the Twelve sat around a waving bonfire, their eyestwinkling at the memory of old victories and defeats, of strugglesthat were pleasant, whatever their outcome, just because they werestruggles. 

At length Sleepy got himself to his feet with much difficulty. 

"Going to bed?" Jumbo sang out. 

"Nope, " drawled Sleepy, and disappeared into the darkness. 

They all smiled at the thought of him, whom none of them respected andall of them loved. 

In a space of time quite short for him, Sleepy returned with anarm-load of books--the text-books that had given him so much trouble, and would have given him more had they had the chance offered them. 

"Fire's getting low, " was all he said, and he dumped the school-books, every one, into the blaze. 

The other Lakerimmers knew that they had passed every examination, either brilliantly or, at the worst, well enough to scrape through. Sleepy did not even know whether he had failed or not; but the nextmorning he found out that he should sadly need next year those booksthat were charred ashes in a corner of the campus, and should have toreplace them out of his spending-money. 

That night, however, he was blissful with ignorance, and having madea pyre of his bookish tormentors, he fell in with the jollity of theothers. 

When it grew very late silence gradually fell on the gossipy Twelve. The beauty of the night and the union of souls seemed to be speechenough. 

Finally the fire fell asleep, and with one mind they all rose and, standing in a circle about glimmering ashes, clasped hands in eternalfriendship, and said:

"Good night!"

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