ALMOST A RIOT
The scene was a lively one. Scores of high school boys, all of them
belonging in Columbia, were working out their various theories for
succeeding in the trials which were scheduled to come off on the
following Saturday. Each fellow seemed to have his own particular way
of trying to excel; and some of these were really remarkable, affording
plenty of amusement to the good-natured crowd of young people, boys and
girls combined, coming from town to watch operations.
When Saturday night came around it was expected that the programme
would have been carried out, and the selections for the grand meet
concluded. The very best in every class would have been chosen; and
after that Columbia could settle down to wait for the day when the
question of supremacy between the rival schools was once more to be
tested in open and square sport, without fear or favor.
A number of the more stocky boys were engaged in putting the shot, and
throwing the discus or hammer. Jack Comfort seemed to be by all odds
the favorite in these events, though there were several who believed
they had a chance.
Even fat Buster Billings was seen in light attire, and perspiring
freely as he hopped around, and finally sent out the weight with about
the grace of a waddling duck. Once he even fell headlong after letting
go, and rolled like a barrel, to the intense delight of the spectators.
Others were practising the broad and standing jump; and close by the
apparatus used for the high jump was in constant use, the crossbar
falling from the uprights again and again, as some aspirant’s foot
caught in going over.
Still there were several fine jumpers among those who kept trying, and
the crossbar was moved up inch by inch as they cleared it handsomely,
amid the plaudits of the admiring throng.
Further on the pole-vaulters were making their swift little run, and
rising to clear their elevated bar. Of course in this particular there
were numerous failures, and some of the jumpers had bothersome falls.
One boy went off limping, and assisted by a friend, having bruised his
leg painfully.
But these things must be expected among a parcel of untrained
schoolboys, whose muscles are not as hard as they should be.
Somehow Lanky and Frank were more interested in the work of the
sprinters, for that was in their own line. They timed some of the
dashes, and exchanged satisfied looks. There seemed to be considerable
talent among this class; and unless the rival schools developed a
marvel or two, they would have all they could do to keep at the heels
of these lively Columbia lads.
From time to time the two boys were hailed by those they knew best; and
Lanky seemed to be in an unusually fine humor, even for him. But Frank,
of course, understood the reason for this. He could see that Lanky
somehow turned his head, and looked at nearly every newcomer. He seemed
to think there would be a messenger from the telegraph office hunting
him up; since the answer to his message was sure to be marked “very
important.”
Loud voices attracted their attention later on, and Frank was sorry to
discover that some of the Columbia boys were engaged in a wordy dispute
with the big crowd of Bellport students who had come over in a fighting
mood.
“It’s a put-up job, that’s what it is!” one of the latter was saying,
roughly.
“Yes, things have all got a string on ’em,” added another, with a
sneer. “It’s no wonder Columbia nearly always wins when they know how
to pull the wires, and get the inside track! On even terms, Bellport
would lick you out of your boots; and I don’t care who hears me say it.”
“Oh! come off now,” remonstrated a Columbia boy; “you know better than
that, Sim Reeves. We’ve been beaten by Bellport and Clifford, and
beaten fairly, too. Did we kick, and set up a howl of fraud? Not much.
We took off our hats to the victors, and said we were sorry to admit
that they were the better fellows that day; but we hoped to tell a
different story another time.”
“Yes, you did!” jeered a third Bellport fellow. “Right now you’ve
got this competition all cooked up, so that the plums will fall to
Columbia. Wasn’t it engineered by a Columbia gentleman, who put up all
the money for the prizes? Sure it was; and the committee just hated to
think of any of those fine medals going to Bellport, so they arranged
things to give the home crowd all the advantage.”
“Prove it by showing us a single thing that isn’t square!” cried an
angry Columbia student, shaking his fist at the speaker.
“Oh! rats! they covered their tracks all right,” the Bellport boy flung
back. “Being used to such tricks, they can do it so nobody could just
put a finger on anything; but all the same the feeling is there that
we’re going to be buncoed right from the start.”
“Huh! if I felt that way I wouldn’t take part in the meet at all!”
called out one of the touchy Columbia boys.
“Perhaps we won’t,” came the immediate answer. “A lot of us have come
over here to-day, not so much to see what you’re all doing, as to tell
you what they think in Bellport of your committee’s work. We know
there are a _few_ square fellers in Columbia; but the majority aren’t
standin’ back on taking advantage of a crooked deal arranged for them
by their committee.”
Frank was shocked at hearing such talk. He knew that the better class
of Bellport fellows would never stand for it; but was afraid that the
two schools might be drawn into a dispute that would put a stop to all
their friendly rivalry in field and track sports.
“Bellport’s sore because of that football drubbing she got last fall!”
called out a Columbia backer, one word leading to another, as is always
the case when boys get to accusing each other.
“And the hockey game that went against her, not to mention baseball!”
echoed still another warm adherent of the local school.
“Oh! be a sport, and take your medicine! You’ve all got an even chance
to win, and I don’t believe there’s a Columbia fellow who’ll accept a
medal, or a prize, if he thought he’d been favored in the least!”
But the war of words went on from bad to worse. All sorts of
accusations began to pass between the two crowds, for the Bellport boys
had come over with the full intention of making trouble.
While they were having it in this fashion who should come in sight but
Chief Hogg, dressed as usual in his resplendent uniform. Someone had
managed to telephone to police headquarters that there was danger of a
riot among the boys at the recreation field; and the head of the local
force had pompously driven out there.
But if anybody expected that the appearance of the stout chief would
stop the tongues of that rough Bellport crowd they were mistaken. They
jeered at the sight of the policeman’s uniform, and matters seemed
getting worse than ever.
The Columbia girls huddled up in groups, watching the excited boys
argue, while arms were waved, and sticks shaken. Frank had seen all
this, and having a sudden inspiration he hurried into the building
where the telephone was located.
“I want to get Bellport in a hurry,” he said to the girl who, during
these times, had charge of the booth at the sporting field.
“I can do that for you right away; but what number do you want?” she
asked; and as Frank looked up from consulting the slender little book
that had the names of all the telephone subscribers in the three river
towns, he replied:
“Give me 57-L, Bellport, please.”
A minute later she called:
“57-L, Bellport. Here you are!”
“Hello! is this Mr. Lee’s house?” asked Frank, and was immediately
electrified by hearing a voice he readily recognized, making reply.
“Yes, who is that talking?”
“Frank Allen, over in Columbia; is that you, Cuthbert?”
“That’s who it is; how are you, Frank; what’s doing in the athletic
line?” came over the wire.
“A whole lot, Cuthbert,” Frank replied quickly. “I’m out at our
athletic field right now. There are some hundreds here, and a lot of
our boys practicing stunts. A bunch of your fellows came over, and are
trying to make trouble. They even jeer at Chief Hogg, and defy him to
lay a hand on them.”
“Thunder! that’s bad; I never dreamed they’d do such a thing,” came
from the astounded boy eight miles away, down in Bellport.
“Unless something is done pretty soon I’m afraid there’s going to be
trouble here, and some broken heads,” Frank went on. “And the worst of
it all is that such a rumpus will break off all friendly intercourse
between the two schools for years, perhaps. Now, I know you have a
great influence over the Bellport boys, Cuthbert. They’ll do more for
you than any fellow living. Can’t you take your motorcycle, and come
over here, licketty-split, and save the day? Please do. It’s the only
chance of keeping peace between the two towns.”
“Frank, I’ll come right away!” answered Cuthbert. “I don’t know that
I can hold those hotheads in check; but I’m willing to do all I can.
So-long!”
Frank went out, hoping that affairs would not reach a crisis before the
athletic leader of the Bellport school arrived. He tried to soothe the
angry and bitter disputants as best he could, and perhaps the respect
they felt for Frank Allen was one reason why some of them did not begin
to use their fists or sticks sooner.
The minutes dragged along, and each seemed an hour to Frank. He knew
that there could be no holding the boys back much longer, for the
insults were growing more and more bitter, and the motions of arms and
sticks more menacing.
“Oh! Frank, can’t you do something to separate them before they fight?”
asked Minnie, when the boy happened to come close to where a group of
girls stood shivering, and looking frightened at the war of words.
“I have done what I could,” replied Frank. “Listen, don’t you hear that
popping sound? It’s Cuthbert Lee on his motorcycle. I ’phoned to him
over home that he was needed here to prevent a clash, and he’s come on
the jump!”