THE BLOODY CORNER
The news went over the school at noon, of course, and most of the
smaller boys eyed Bobby Blake askance. The boy himself seemed walking
in a kind of cloud; his mind was stunned, and it was lucky that Dr.
Raymond had said to him, kindly:
"You are excused from recitations to-day, Robert."
The good doctor had spoken to him quite cheerfully of the probable loss
of the steamship on which Mr. and Mrs. Blake had sailed from New York.
The principal seemed to have taken his cue from Barrymore Gray.
To tell the truth, what Barry had said cheered Bobby more than anything
else. Even Fred Martin was a trifle depressing. Fred wanted to give
him his share in the bats and mask and other baseball paraphernalia, and
turn over to him, in fact, most of his personal property, likely to be
dear to a boy's heart.
This was the red-haired boy's way of showing sympathy. But it did not
help much.
The roseate picture Barry had drawn of the shipwreck stuck in Bobby's
mind. He was very glad his mother could not take cold down there, even
if she got her feet wet.
For several days the other boys were very gentle with Bobby. It did not
make Bobby feel very comfortable, but he knew they meant it kindly.
Soon, however, their awkwardness wore off, and they were as rough and
friendly as ever, and he liked it better. Deep in his heart he kept
thinking all the time of his parents, and the possibilities arising out
of the wreck of the steamship. Outwardly he was much the same as ever.
Only one thing Bobby Blake desired now more than before. He longed--oh!
how he _did_ long--to win the Medal of Honor. If his parents were
shipwrecked, and there was any suffering for them in it, it seemed to
Bobby that if he won the Honor Medal at Rockledge School, that fact
would alleviate their misery, wherever they were!
Yet there was nothing of the mollycoddle about Bobby. Fun appealed to
him just as strongly as it ever did to any ten year old boy.
There were certain set rules of Rockledge School that he would not break
and that he kept Fred from breaking.
"There's no fun in getting caught and held up to the whole school as
dishonorable," he told Fred. "We're expected to keep in bounds. We
know the bounds well enough. And if we want to go out of them, we have
only to ask, and give a good reason, to get permission to go farther."
"Aw, they treat us as if we were a lot of babies," growled Fred Martin.
"They do nothing of the kind," Bobby replied. "Doctor Raymond treats us
as though we were gentlemen. He trusts to our _honor_. I wouldn't
disappoint him for a farm!"
"We-ell!" sighed Fred. "I suppose you're right, Bobby. I--I almost
wish he didn't treat us just this way. There'd be some fun in busting
up the old rules!"
And that was where Dr. Raymond showed his wisdom. He knew how to manage
boys with the least amount of friction.
Weeks passed, full of work and play, and no further news came of the
lost steamship on which Mr. and Mrs. Blake had sailed for Brazil. The
wreckage had been sighted off the Orinoco, and the name of the steamship
was plain upon the wreck. But it might have drifted a long way after
the catastrophe. Just _where_ the ship had been burned, nobody could
guess.
No boat from her, no word from her captain or crew, came to the owners
in New York. She had been a freight boat, carrying on that trip
scarcely a score of passengers.
Much of this Bobby did not hear, or understand. He clung like a limpet
to the imaginative idea of a shipwreck that Barrymore Gray had drawn for
him. And it was well that this was so.
Thanksgiving came and went. The Belden school came over in the forenoon
to Rockledge and its football team was nicely thrashed by the Rockledge
eleven. The Lower School went almost mad with delight; and Fred Martin
and Larry Cronk, the Belden boy, came almost to blows on the campus.
Neither of the Lower Schools had forgotten the hot potato fight on the
island. Ere this, Bobby and his friends had completed their camp and
had begun to furnish it, but they hoped the youngsters from Belden would
learn nothing about the hideout.
One thing pleased Bobby and Fred immensely at Thanksgiving. A big box
came to them from Clinton. In it were all sorts of good things made by
Meena and Mrs. Martin, fall apples and pears picked by Michael Mulcahey,
candy from Mr. Martin's store, and gifts from Fred's sisters and smaller
brothers.
The Second Dormitory had a great feast after hours one night, of which
even Captain Gray knew nothing. Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks got onto
it, and the small boys had to bribe the two bullies with some of the
choicest of their stores. Nevertheless, the midnight feast went off very
smoothly.
There were a few more cases for the medical attendant to see to at
Rockledge School after Thanksgiving than usual. The midnight feast
coming so soon after the big Thanksgiving dinner, played havoc in the
ranks of the smaller boys.
Pee Wee had what Bobby declared to be "internal, or civil war," and went
to the hospital in Dr. Raymond's house for three days. He came out wan
and interesting looking, declaring that he had lost pounds of flesh!
But he proceeded to get his avoirdupois back again very promptly.
It was a full week before the school was back on its usual working
basis--and the midwinter holidays only a month away. The teachers
spurred the lazy scholars, and helped the dull ones, and out of this
pushing in classes arose the trouble that became a very serious affair
indeed for both Fred Martin and Bobby Blake.
Fred was not always bright in arithmetic. One morning he made a
ridiculous blunder, and the whole class laughed at him. Mr. Carrin
reprimanded Fred for his inattention, and as they filed out for
recreation before dinner, Sparrow Bangs--named so because he had a whole
cage-full of tame sparrows down at the gatekeeper's cottage--made fun of
the red-haired boy.
Fred had been angered by the teacher's sharpness. Now he turned on
Sparrow in a terrible passion.
"What's that you say? I'll give you a punch you'll remember."
"Aw, no you won't!" returned Sparrow. "And I'll say it again, Ginger!
You've no time to play catch--you'll have to study the multiplication
table, like Mr. Carrin said."
Fred rushed at the teasing lad, but Pee Wee and Howell Purdy came
between them.
"Cheese it!" said the fat boy. "You two fellows want to get into
trouble? Right under the schoolroom windows, too!"
"Well, he's got to stop nagging me," cried Fred, very red, and puffing
very hard.
"Who are you, Ginger, that I should be so awfully careful of?" sneered
Sparrow. "You're not so much!"
"I'll show you--"
"Stop it! stop it, Fred!" advised Bobby, catching his chum by the arm.
"Come on, I want to throw you a few fast ones. We mustn't get out of
practice, even if we _can't_ play a regular game until next spring."
"There he goes!" cried Sparrow. "His boss takes him away. Great lad,
that Ginger is. Afraid to say his soul's his own. Bobby Blake just
bosses him around--"
It was all over, then! Fred flung off Bobby's hand and rushed at his
tormentor. Smack! his fist shot into Sparrow's face.
Half a dozen of the boys then got between the antagonists.
"You want to get us all into trouble?" growled Mouser, one of those who
held Fred Martin. "Cut it out. If you've got to fight, there's the
'bloody corner.' Do it right."
The chums had heard of "the bloody corner," but since their appearance
at Rockledge School there had been no real pugilistic encounter between
any of their mates.
Down in the far corner of the grounds--oh! a long way from the
buildings--behind a tall hedge of hemlock, there had once been a
toolshed. It had been removed and the corner was just a heap of soft
sand. No matter how hard the frost was, this sand did not freeze.
And here, from time immemorial, had been arranged the school fights.
Whether the good Doctor was aware that in this arena was fought out such
feuds as could not be otherwise settled, nobody knew. Usually the
fights were arranged by the older fellows, and the captain of the school
was supposed to be present and see fair play.
It spoke well for Barrymore Gray that thus far under his regime, not a
fight had occurred in "bloody corner."
The belligerents--Fred and Sparrow--were separated for the time, but as
Bobby and his friend started to run to dinner when the big gong rang,
Shiner stopped them.
"Hey, Ginger," said he. "Are you game to fight Sparrow?"
"I'm going to fight him," declared the red-haired boy, showing his
teeth. "He can't get out of it."
"Oh! he's not trying to," said Shiner. "In fact, he told me to put it
up to you. He wants to knock your head off."
"He'll have a fine time trying it," declared Fred, hotly. "I'll show
him--"
"Aw, drop it!" begged Bobby. "You don't want to fight Sparrow--and he
doesn't want to fight you."
"Better keep out of this, Bobby Blake," advised Shiner, importantly.
"Sparrow says Fred's afraid, anyway--"
"I'll show him!" cried the maddened red-haired boy.
"Bluffing's all right," sneered Shiner. "But will you _fight_?"
"Give me a chance!"
"Aw-right. We'll put it up to the captain and you and Sparrow can get
together down in the corner."
"With gloves? and have Barry Gray boss it? No, I won't," declared the
pugnacious Fred. "Sparrow's trying to get out of it. I'll box him in
the gym. But if he's got the pluck of a flea, he'll come down to the
corner with his bare fists--and you and Bobby here are enough to see
fair play."
"Whew!" whistled Shiner, his eyes dancing. "Do you mean it?"
"You'll find out that I do," threatened Fred, wagging his head.
"You sha'n't fight that way, Fred!" cried Bobby. "The School won't
stand for it."
"You mean that bully, Barry Gray, won't stand for it. He always wants
to boss."
"You game to see them through, Bobby?" demanded Shiner.
"If you don't want to come with me, I'll get Pee Wee," growled Fred.
"No," said Bobby, in great trouble. "If you mean to fight Sparrow, of
course I'm going to stand by you."
"And keep your mouth shut about it?" snapped Shiner.
"Bobby's no snitch," exclaimed Fred, hotly. "If we're caught, it won't
be because either Bobby or I tell."
"Nuff said," declared Shiner, shortly. "I'll see Sparrow again and put
it up to him. We'll find a time when nobody else will be around. Be
ready," and Shiner went off whistling, evidently feeling his importance
in the matter.
Bobby felt pretty badly. He did not want to see Fred fight at all. And
he certainly did not want him to meet Sparrow Bangs in this way. A
sparring match was one thing, but a fist fight, deliberately arranged,
and held in secret, was an entirely different matter.
"You can't do it!" he said to Fred, greatly disturbed. "Dr. Raymond
might send you home."
"I don't care if I'm sent home twice!" exclaimed the hotheaded Fred. "I
am going to thrash that fellow, or he'll thrash _me_."
Bobby wanted to shake Fred--he could have hit his chum himself! And
yet--he couldn't desert him. They had come here to this school,
strangers. They had agreed to stand by each other, through thick and
thin--of course without a word being said about it! Boys do not talk
about their friendships like girls.
If Fred were wrong, Bobby could be angry with him, but he could not
desert him. If his chum intended to fight Sparrow Bangs in this
disgraceful way, Bobby would "second" him--of course he would!
If Dr. Raymond should hear of it and suspend them both from school, it
could not be helped. He knew very well that he was running a risk of
losing all chance for the Medal of Honor; yet he would stick to his
chum.
He was unhappy that night--very, very unhappy. Fred and he said little
when they were alone. Shiner came to him and whispered, at bedtime,
that there would be a chance to "pull off" the fight the next noontime
after dinner. They could cut the mid-day study hour to do it, without
being caught.
Beyond his determination to stand by Fred, right or wrong, Bobby wanted
his chum--as long as he _would_ fight--to win! He advised him in the
morning:
"Now, Fred, eat a good breakfast--a _big_ breakfast. But you're going to
go light on dinner."
"I know," grunted the red-haired one.
"Don't drink much water at dinner time, either. If you think you'll be
tempted too much, keep out of the dining-room."
"No," growled Fred. "They'll think I'm afraid."
"All right. But eat lightly," urged Bobby.
For once something was going on in the Lower School that the whole crowd
of boys was not "on to." Shiner and Sparrow had been as mum as Fred and
Bobby.
The two combatants did not even scowl at each other; they kept apart.
They did not want any of the other boys to suspect.
Howell Purdy asked Bobby if "Ginger wasn't going to knock Sparrow's head
off?" and Bobby dodged the question adroitly.
It seemed to Bobby as though that forenoon would never come to an end.
At half past eleven the Lower School was let out. Bobby took Fred into
the gymnasium and they put on the gloves together for a little practice.
With the experience they had had before, and the instruction of the
Rockledge athletic teacher, for boys of their size, Bobby and Fred were
quite proficient in the so-called manly art.
Sparring, as a game like baseball or tennis, is splendid exercise and
good training for mind and temper. It may, or may not, lead to
fisticuffs among boys. Certainly boys who spar together in a gymnasium
are much less likely to have rude fights as the outgrowth of sudden
temper. They respect each other's prowess too much.
Fred was careful at dinner. As soon as they could, he and Bobby slipped
out, and made their way to the distant corner, and by a roundabout way
so that they could not be seen. Five minutes later Sparrow and Jimmy
Ailshine appeared.