Of a Saturday, bright and early, Sam and his followers set out for
the lake. Only Poke and Step were missing, both having pleaded their
exceedingly pressing duties as constructors of a flying machine, and
having agreed, readily enough, to endorse the others’ choice of a site
for the camp. The Trojan was in the party, hardly as a volunteer and
yet making no objection. The Shark marched along with his usual air of
indifference, but Tom Orkney and Herman Boyd, who had some inkling of
Sam’s real problem and his efforts to solve it, showed both interest
and enthusiasm.
Lon had suggested a willingness to carry the club to the lake in the
big car, but Sam had preferred a hike, it being his first care to
keep his chums occupied. The day was fine, the sky clear, and the
morning air fresh and invigorating. The single drawback was the dust
in the road. There had been no rain for several weeks, and though
the conditions did not yet approach those of a drought, farmers and
gardeners were beginning to predict crop failures, unless a change came
in the weather. To the boys, however, this danger did not make special
appeal; and as the brightness of the spring foliage had not faded, they
deemed it a very pleasant day, indeed, and marched along at a brisk
pace.
On the way there was more or less discussion of the charms of the lake
district, and the rival advantages of the two shores. Herman had a
theory that it might be well to establish themselves near the pleasure
resort--not too near, of course, but near enough to hear the band when
it played. Orkney was strongly for the greater privacy of the other
side of the lake. The Trojan and the Shark expressed no preference, and
Sam withheld his ideas on the subject.
“We’ll scout all around,” he said. “Then we can pick the best spot.
We’ve plenty of time to make the right choice.”
Now, scouting was a somewhat leisurely performance, and not a bad way
of passing several hours. The country about the lake was rolling,
with a great deal of woodland--largely “second growth” hardwood, as is
frequently the case when a pine and spruce country has been lumbered,
and birches, oaks and maples come in to take the places of the fallen
giants of the forest. In this case the lumbering had taken place so
long ago that the new trees had attained considerable size, though the
“slash” left by the cutting (the litter of tops, limbs and broken trees
not worth removal) was still much in evidence, offering dangerously
inflammable material, should a fire ever get a fair start in the
tract. Here and there, in the low spots between the ridges and little
hills, the boys found swampy areas, where the undergrowth was thick
and tangled enough to suggest a jungle. On the side where the pavilion
and cottages were in course of erection something had been done in
the way of clearing away the woods rubbish, but the club was agreed
that the opposite shore had more natural advantages. Even Herman came
over to this view at the consultation following luncheon; and there
was unanimity of opinion that the best site for a camp would be in the
neighborhood of the big Council Rock. Within fifty yards of the great
stone was a glade where a tent could be pitched or a shack built; the
spring not far away was clear and bubbling; and, finally, between the
woods and the road was an open field where Poke and Step could manœuver
with their flying machine.
Sam did not feel at liberty to explain to the others the remarkable
enterprise in which the pair were engaged, feeling that divulging the
great secret was the privilege of the young inventors; but in the talk
he laid stress on the advantages of having open ground near by. To this
suggestion there was ready agreement. A chance for scrub baseball games
appealed to everybody, except perhaps the Shark; there might be even
possibilities of tennis. In the case of the after-luncheon discussion
the club was prepared to admit that a generally more promising place
for a camp hardly could be desired.
Sam, with Poke and Step’s undertaking in mind, strolled away from
the group to study the fields with more care; and he was gazing
thoughtfully at the expanse of turf, when he heard a step behind
him, and turned to see the Shark coming up. The spectacled youth
said nothing, but halted beside Sam and surveyed the open ground
deliberately.
“How big is it--how many acres?” Sam asked, after a little. With the
club it had come to be a habit to turn all calculations over to the
Shark, as belonging in his special province.
“Huh! What do you mean?” the Shark countered.
Sam waved a hand in a sweeping gesture. “Why, all that--out there. How
much room is there?”
“Clear ground or space within the fences?”
“Clear ground.”
“Ten acres, plus.”
“Oh!” said Sam. “That’s quite a lot.”
“Huh!”
There was an odd note in the Shark’s tone. Sam glanced at him keenly;
suspicion seized him that the other might have an inkling of what was
in his mind.
“I--I’m wondering if there’s room for--well, for something,” he said
suggestively.
The Shark grunted. “Umph! So’m I”; turned; stalked away. Sam chuckled.
His suspicion was strengthened, but his liking for the Shark was not
lessened. Plainly that youth could keep a secret with the best of them.
Sam strolled on, crossing the field and coming to the road. There
he paused for a little. A wagon loaded high with boards for the new
buildings went creaking by; a farmer jogged along on his way back from
town; then a touring automobile, with much luggage in its tonneau, sped
by, raising a great cloud of dust. Plainly, there was a good deal of
traffic, of one sort or another, but Sam reflected comfortably that the
camp would be far enough from the highway to escape its bustle.
He was about to turn back, when the sharp bark of a motorcycle caught
his ear, and in a moment more the machine shot around a bend in the
road. It was traveling at a great pace, which slackened quickly when
the rider caught sight of the figure by the roadside. Sam could not
repress a start of surprise. His eyes were good, and in spite of the
semi-disguise of goggles and low-drawn cap he recognized Zorn, even as
he perceived that the traveler intended to halt for parley.
Zorn stopped his machine abreast of Sam, hopped nimbly from his saddle,
and dropped the support by which it could be held upright. He pushed
back his cap and pulled off his goggles.
“Parker, this is lucky,” he said. “I’ve been wanting a chance to talk
things over with you, when we’d be nice and private with nobody to
rubber.”
Sam met the overture coldly. “I don’t know that I want to talk to you.”
Zorn grinned. “Well, you can’t very well help yourself--unless you run
away.”
“Oh, I’ve things enough to say,” Sam responded sharply. “I’ve just been
waiting for the right time.”
“Don’t worry--this is it! Never’ll be a better time or place for what
you’re going to hear.... Look here! Had enough, have you?”
Sam stared at the other. “Enough? What are you driving at?”
“You oughtn’t to need maps. That election the other day proved that you
and your gang are done for--unless I lend you a hand.”
“What kind of a hand?”
Zorn showed his teeth, though his speech was pacific. “A helping hand.
You’re in bad--the lot of you.”
“Oh! Are we?”
“You are. The whole school believes you’re a crowd of cheats and
tattletales.”
Sam kept his temper, and that he did so was proof of the discipline
he had had in self-mastery. Moreover, it had flashed upon him that it
was his business to learn, so far as he might, the purpose of Zorn
in the campaign he had waged against the club. Purely as a matter of
preference he would have chosen to resort then and there to violence,
but a fight would cut short the explanation he so greatly desired. So
he said, quietly enough:
“There’s no truth in it. Nobody knows that better than you do.”
“I know you gave Walker away.”
“I had no such intention.”
“And he’s under sentence for breaking rules and then lying about what
he’d done.”
“Walker neither broke rules nor lied.”
Zorn shrugged contemptuously. “Oh, what’s the use, Parker? You can sing
that song till you’re black in the face, and it’ll do you no good.
You’re in a hole, and you can’t get yourself or your crowd out. You’ve
got to have the helping hand, I tell you, and I’m the only fellow who
can extend it to you.”
“Meaning that as you started all the lies about us, nobody but you can
stop ’em?”
At that Zorn scowled. “See here, Parker! I’m not fussy, but if we’re
to do business, you’d better keep a civil tongue in your head. Cut out
the ‘lie’ foolishness! This thing didn’t require lying. You and Walker
managed to mess things so, the plain record convicts you.”
“The record, as you call it, is wrong, mistaken.”
“What if it is? It stands till it’s disproved. And who’s going to
disprove it? You can’t.”
“Can you?” Sam shot back at him.
“Sure I can,” said Zorn coolly.
“Then why don’t you?”
“Why should I? What have you or your push ever done for me?”
Sam checked the hot speech that trembled on his lips. “Wait a minute,
Zorn,” he said. “Let me get this straight. It sounds as if you wanted
to strike a bargain. Is that the idea?”
“To a dot! Fine! You’re waking up!”
“And if we do something for you, you’ll clear the record for us?
You’ll go to all the people you’ve told your story to, and you’ll
take it back? You’ll straighten out things for Trojan Walker with the
principal? You’ll tell who did the mean work, who took that book into
the examination, who----”
Zorn stopped him. “Pull up, Parker! Suppose there was crooked
work--suppose there wasn’t--suppose all the trouble came from a queer
accident. I’m not saying which it was. All I am saying is that I can
fix your crowd and fix ’em right--clean the slate for ’em--all that.
Will you be sensible and make a trade?”
“What kind of a trade?”
Zorn took a step nearer Sam, who was standing on the outer bank of the
narrow roadside ditch. The movement brought the two boys very close
together.
“This is straight talk--understand? I mean business.”
“All right,” said Sam. “Go on!”
“I’ll see the slate’s cleaned for you and your crowd, if----”
“If what?”
“If you’ll do what I want you to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Back me up. I’ve got some plans. You can help me--you and your gang.
You can help me a lot.”
“How?” Sam shot the query at Zorn.
Zorn’s answer was prompt enough; plainly, he had his ideas clearly
formulated.
“The way to get a thing is to make up your mind just what you want and
then go for it. Now, I want to be boss of the class and of the school
next year--I don’t make any bones about it--to you.”
Sam smiled, a little grimly. “Go on,” he said.
“To be boss, I’ve got to have backing. I need yours--and by yours I
mean your whole club’s.”
“Backing for what?”
“Well, to begin with, there’s the meeting to form a County Inter-School
Athletic Association. One Junior will be on our school’s committee.
I’m after that job, and I want a practically unanimous election by the
class. I can have it, if your crowd will swing into line. Then, there’s
talk of a school athletic council next year. If I land one, I can land
the other, too. Then there’s the Valley Debating League. It hasn’t
amounted to much lately, but I can get hold of it, and build it up.
And there are some other things--never mind them now, though; they’ll
naturally follow the others.”
Sam stared at Zorn; there was more than a trace of amazement in his
expression.
“Whew! but you’re scheming to be a regular Pooh-Bah! You want to be the
whole thing!”
Zorn nodded coolly. “That’s the ticket, Parker. No use pretending
anything else. But there isn’t a thing I’ve mentioned that I can’t
have, if your club will play my game. I take off my hat to you for
the way you hold your bunch together. What’s more, I know perfectly
well that you’ve got a lot of influence in the class--and I want that
influence. You’re kind of down and out now, but, as I’ve told you, I
can put the lot of you back on your feet. That’s worth something, isn’t
it?”
“Yes,” said Sam quietly.
Zorn grinned. “Good! Now we’re coming down to business.”
A fine line showed in Sam’s forehead. “Zorn, this means you want to
trade on the fact you can clear the Trojan of charges of which he
isn’t guilty.”
“The Trojan and you, too. They’re more down on you--the class, I
mean--they’re sorer on you, Parker, than they are on Walker.”
“Because of the lies--no; I’ll call them reports--you’ve spread?”
“That’s better.”
“Then you own up you did make all the trouble? Just what did you tell
about us?”
“Never mind what I said. It was enough--and not too much.”
“And you can say enough more to straighten everything out?”
“That’s right--you’ve got the combination.”
“What will you say?”
“You’ll find out--the day you vote as I tell you to.”
Sam’s expression was growing more belligerent. “Zorn, you’re a
miserable skunk, but you’ve trapped yourself. You’ve owned up you
practically lied about us. When I tell that to folks----”
“Tell, and be hanged! What good will it do you? Nobody’ll believe you!”
“But you said it!”
At that Zorn laughed. “Ho, ho! Parker, you’re a mark, you’re easy!
Where’ll be your witnesses?”
“You mean, you’ll deny it?”
“Sure! That’s the advantage of having nobody else around when you’re
talking confidentially.”
Sam gasped. Here was a standard of conduct which was new to him.
“You--you----”
“Oh, I wasn’t born yesterday,” Zorn interposed. “I know when to make
speeches to a crowd, and when to take ’em one at a time. Nobody has
heard what I’ve told you to-day; you can’t bring witnesses. My word is
as good as yours--no; better. I haven’t got the school down on me. But
that’s not the first question, which is, will you do business?”
“No--not that sort of business!” Sam cried wrathfully.
Zorn scowled. “You’re an idiot, then. I offer you a chance to get
yourself and your crowd in right again, and you won’t have it, eh? What
do you want? What do you propose to do?”
“Thrash you!” said Sam promptly. “There’s a licking coming to you,
Zorn, and after what you’ve said to-day, it’s time you had it.”
Zorn laughed scornfully. “Guess I’ll have something more to say about
that, Parker. The fellow that can whip me doesn’t wear your shoes.”
[Illustration: SAM BEGAN TO WRIGGLE OUT OF HIS JACKET]
Sam began to wriggle out of his jacket. “You wait a minute, and we’ll
see about that!” he said curtly.
But Zorn didn’t wait. There was a second in which Sam, with his arms
still held by the sleeves of his half-removed coat, was helpless
against attack. Zorn improved the chance, though by the schoolboy
code he was violating all the principles of fair play. He struck Sam
a vicious blow on the forehead. Under the impact Sam reeled; lost his
footing; slipped down the bank of the ditch, and measured his length
on the ground. As he struggled to his feet, and completed the task of
freeing himself from his coat, Zorn, who had sprung to his machine and
started his motor, was out of reach and retreating at speed.
Sam shouted a challenge to him to halt and accept combat. It is
doubtful if Zorn heard his voice above the bark of the motor, but at
that instant he turned in his saddle and waved a derisive farewell.