Team-Mates
[Illustration: Beside Sandy tripped the Obnoxious Kid, waving
triumphantly her red and white banner]
Team-Mates
By
Ralph Henry Barbour
Author of “The Crimson Sweater,” “Captain Chub,”
“Harry’s Island,” etc.
With Illustrations
By C. M. Relyea
[Illustration]
New York
The Century Co.
1911
Copyright, 1910, 1911, by
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published September, 1911_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A NEW BOY ARRIVES 3
II. WEST HOUSE SITS IN JUDGMENT 16
III. A VISIT TO THE INQUISITORY 28
IV. NICKNAMES AND MUSIC 51
V. CAL IS CHRISTENED 69
VI. CAL SETTLES DOWN 85
VII. HOMESICKNESS AND GINGERBREAD 102
VIII. NED LAYS DOWN THE LAW 116
IX. THE GHOST IN THE ORCHARD 139
X. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 160
XI. THE MISSING MONEY 180
XII. THE GIRL NEXT DOOR 193
XIII. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 217
XIV. CAL MUTINIES 234
XV. MOLLY TAKES A HAND 250
XVI. THE PIPPIN CLUB IS FORMED 267
XVII. CAL BUYS A SUIT 284
XVIII. A FALLING-OUT 302
XIX. THE SECOND GAME 315
XX. RUMORS AND EXCITEMENT 337
XXI. A MYSTERY IS EXPLAINED 354
XXII. MOLLY WAVES A FLAG 366
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Beside Sandy, tripped the Obnoxious Kid, waving
triumphantly her red and white banner _Frontispiece_
“Is this West House?” he asked 23
“Got any other togs in that gripsack of yours?” 35
“My name’s John Boland. What’s yours?” 41
“Yo heave ho! When the wind do blow――” 67
“Please don’t throw me in,” begged Claire 79
“But, honest, Cal, they won’t do!” 99
Ned viewed Cal’s costume with misgiving 117
“Here’s a place where there’s a picket off!” 133
Panic seized the company 143
“Good evening. We――we came for the apples” 173
“Well, it’s gone,” said Ned 183
“These are ghost apples,” said the girl 199
“You’re a very horrid, rude boy, Cal” 231
He stopped and examined the contents of the bundle 243
Sandy was toiling valiantly, chasing balls on all
sides of the court 257
Presently they were all seated 273
Cal buys a new suit of clothes 295
“We’d better settle this right now” 311
Cal had his first baptism by fire 333
“Why does the W look so rakish?” 349
Cal knelt in front of Ned’s bureau and opened the
bottom drawer 361
TEAM-MATES
CHAPTER I
A NEW BOY ARRIVES
“How far is it to Oak Park School, please?”
The policeman on duty at the North Woodfield station turned from
watching the train disappear westward along the track and gave his
attention to the speaker. What he saw was a rather thin youth of
fourteen with deeply tanned face from which a pair of gray eyes looked
somewhat anxiously upward. The boy had removed his hat, a dilapidated
straw adorned with a faded blue band, not out of deference to the
majesty of the law but because the September afternoon was decidedly
hot, leaving to view a head of pale brown hair, rumpled and damp,
which had evidently been trimmed both recently and poorly. He wore a
suit of gray flannel, a white shirt, with a stiff and creaky bosom, a
narrow red four-in-hand tie and tan shoes. In spite of the fact that
his attire was all of the most inexpensive sort he was quite palpably
“dressed up” and extremely uncomfortable. He had set down his bag, a
small and very shiny contrivance of imitation alligator skin, in order
to run a new and scratchy handkerchief around inside his collar.
“What was it you asked?” inquired the officer.
“How far is it to Oak Park School, sir? And which way do I have to go,
please?”
The officer had started a good many boys on their initial journey to
the school and had acquired a method of procedure.
“Pick up your bag and I’ll show you, my boy. Right through here.” He
conducted his charge across the waiting-room and out the further door
where, along the asphalt walk, carriage drivers were clamoring for
fares.
“The school’s about a half a mile up that way. Any of these drivers
will take you there.”
“But they’ll charge me, won’t they?” asked the boy.
“Sure! They ain’t doing it for their health. It’s only a quarter,
though. You can stand that, I guess.”
“I’d rather walk if you’ll tell me how to go.”
The officer turned for another survey of the boy before he replied. He
had seen a number of Oak Park School boys, but this was the first one
who had ever in his experience saved carriage fare. “Don’t quite look
like he belonged at that school,” he said to himself. Then,
“’D rather walk, eh? Well, you cross the common here and take that
street over by the hardware store. See? Keep right on that until you
get to the school. You can’t miss it. Going to the Hall, are you?”
“No, sir; West House.”
“Well, that’s a bit farther, but you’d better go up to the school and
then cross over through the park. You might go another way, but it’s
longer and a good deal hotter walking, I guess. If I was you, though,
I’d take a carriage. There’s a load of the boys going up now. Better go
with ’em.”
“I cal’late I’d rather walk, thanks. It ain’t very far.” He put on his
hat and returned his handkerchief to his pocket. “Much obliged, sir.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. Better take it easy; it’s a hot day.”
“Yes, sir, I will.”
The officer watched him cross the road, enter the common and strike off
toward the other side of the Square. He smiled and then he shook his
head.
“Wonder how he came here,” he muttered. “I guess he’s in for a lot
of guying when the rest of ’em catch sight of him. Well, he’ll live
through it.”
The boy reached the farther side of the common and started across the
street in front of the hardware store. At that moment a three-seated
surrey containing the driver, four boys and numerous suit-cases came
along and the boy on foot had to retreat hurriedly to keep from being
run down.
“Look out there, farmer! Most got you that time!”
“Look where you’re going, kid!”
He had a brief glimpse of laughing, mocking faces and then the surrey,
drawn by a pair of sleek bays, dashed around the corner out of sight.
He started again across the street, this time looking cautiously to
left and right. But the course was clear now. Across from the hardware
store was a druggist’s and huge placards told enticingly of “Ice Cold
Soda” and “College Ices.” One hand went tentatively into his trousers
pocket as the hiss of the soda fountain came to him. But it came out
again empty and he turned down the street toward the school. “Elm
Street” said the sign on the corner, but the elms were not in sight.
Beyond an occasional maple, too small to throw shade, the street
was treeless and the hot sunlight beat remorselessly down on either
sidewalk.
There had been a fountain in the common and he wished now that he had
stopped and had a drink. For a block or two small stores lined the way
and he considered entering one of them and asking for water. But they
were all shabby and untidy and by the time he had made up his mind
to ask he had left them behind, and houses, no more attractive than
the stores, had taken their place. He took the policeman’s advice and
walked slowly, for in spite of the fact that it wanted but a week to
the first of October the day was as hot as an August one and the stiff
shirt and the vest, both articles of attire with which he was somewhat
unfamiliar, increased his discomfort. He hoped that the policeman
hadn’t underestimated the distance to the school. The bag, while it
wasn’t very heavy, didn’t make progress any easier. And that awful
collar was squeezing his neck like a vise!
He had started from home after an early dinner feeling decidedly
excited and elated, but the elation was dwindling fast with every step,
and the excitement had changed to something that savored both of dismay
and homesickness. When, away last Spring, it had been decided in family
council that he was to go to boarding school and prepare for college
the prospect had filled him with delight. Now he wished himself back
in West Bayport. He already missed the sight and smell of the ocean
and the wharves and the shipping. It seemed unpleasantly shut in here,
and the air was dead and held no tang, and the street was deep in
yellowish-gray dust and even the hills in the distance looked hot and
wilted under their purple haze. On the whole, he was sorely tempted to
retrace his steps and take the next train homeward, abandoning Oak Park
and college and all they stood for.
But of course he didn’t. If he had his name wouldn’t have been John
William Boland. Moreover, there wouldn’t have been any story! No, he
kept right along the hot road which presently bore to the left and
became gradually shady with spreading elms. The shabby dwellings died
away from either side and open lots and then broad fields succeeded
them. Once he rested for a good five minutes perched on a stone wall
in the grateful shade of a big elm, and while he sat there, hat off,
rumpled hair exposed to a little listless breeze, shiny bag at his
feet, two carriages filled to the brim with boys, arrivals on a later
train, rattled merrily and noisily by him, and he was uncomfortably
conscious of the curious looks and the muttered comments proceeding
from them.
He didn’t think he was going to like Oak Park School and regretted
that he hadn’t held out for one of the institutions which his own
choice had fallen upon when the little white cottage at West Bayport
had been inundated for weeks with school catalogues. He recalled one
in particular, Seaview Academy, an imposing brick building fronting
the ocean, backed with a jolly looking forest and adorned on all sides
by winding paths sprinkled with boys and strange-shaped flower beds
blooming tropically. But Seaview had been quite out of the question
with its seven hundred dollar tuition fee, and, like several others
which had caught his fancy, had been set aside as something beautiful
but impossible.
There had been a time when the Bolands were prosperous. That was before
Captain Jonathan Boland, master and half-owner of the fishing schooner
_Patriot_, had been lost with all hands on the Grand Banks and Mrs.
Boland and John and his sister Nan had been left with only the small
house overlooking the harbor and a very little money. The disaster had
occurred when John was ten and his sister a year younger, and since
that time the family had often had hard work to make ends meet. John
and Nan attended public school, and in the summer the former found what
work he could. The wages weren’t large, but they helped. One summer
he had obtained a place in a sail-loft, and another year had nailed
“flats” into boxes at the fish house. But the best summer of all had
been the one just past, when he had served as one of the crew of three
on the little auxiliary sloop _Emma Boyd_, which sailed or chugged
about the harbor selling water to the fishing boats.
It was the death of Uncle Thomas that had altered the boy’s prospects.
Uncle Thomas had been his mother’s brother, a mysterious, seldom seen
old man who had lived in Maine and who, when he decided to die at the
respectable age of seventy-odd, had left a legacy of a thousand dollars
to his sister. News of it had reached Mrs. Boland in the late winter
and not for an instant had there been any doubt in her mind as to the
investment of the money. It was to go toward her boy’s education. It
wouldn’t take him through college, of course, but, with care, it might
prepare him for it; and once old enough to find employment at a man’s
wages, he could, she was certain, with the Lord’s help, manage the rest
himself. Mrs. Boland had always been a firm believer in trusting to the
Lord, and so far she had never been disappointed.
John was to study hard and prepare himself for college in three years.
Neither himself nor his mother nor Sister Nan doubted his ability to
do this; Nan least of all, perhaps, for to her John was something
just short of super-human. Had the legacy been larger John could have
afforded another year at school, but with a thousand dollars only to
draw on, and tuition at good schools seldom being less than three
hundred a year, you can see that three years was bound to be his limit.
So the legacy was placed untouched in the savings bank and the entire
family began a systematic study of preparatory schools. In the end Oak
Park had won the privilege of enrolling John William Boland among its
pupils. The tuition at Oak Park was three hundred dollars a year, a
price made possible by endowments from former students. It was only a
dollar and twenty cents from West Bayport――you see the Bolands reckoned
distance in terms of carfares!――and it possessed in addition most of
the advantages offered by larger and more expensive schools. I think,
though, that it was the phrase in the advertisement alluding to moral
character that decided Mrs. Boland. John remembered every word of that
advertisement yet; it had been read a dozen times while awaiting the
school catalogue.
“Oak Park School, North Woodfield, Mass. Preparatory School for Boys.
Estab. 1876. Ideal equipment for health and study. Twenty-four acres of
elevated ground one hour from Boston. Special attention given to boys
of fifteen and under. Enrollment limited to sixty and only boys of high
moral character accepted. For further information address Dr. Horace
Mitchell Webster, Principal.”
John’s application had been forwarded in June and a month later he
had learned that it had been accepted. From that moment he had looked
forward to this day. And now――why, now he was dragging unwilling feet
along the road and heartily wishing himself back at home! It was
extremely unreasonable of him, he knew, but somehow he just couldn’t
help it. It was not only unreasonable, it was ungrateful besides. And
while he was telling himself so, with a terrific frown on his brown
forehead, the school suddenly appeared before him.
A neat stone wall, flat-topped and half-hidden with ivy, began beside
him and went on to an ornamental iron gateway. Beyond the wall was
a broad expanse of velvety green turf divided by drives and walks
which led to the four buildings in sight. The nearest of these was a
low two-story building of buff colored brick and limestone trimming.
John guessed it to be the gymnasium, and he was right. It was full of
windows, most of which were open, and the red slate roof looked very
hot in the sunlight. Near the gymnasium and further from John was a
handsome building of three stories, the lower of weathered shingles
and the upper two of creamy-hued plaster between beams. There were two
entrances, a square porch before each, and on the porches and steps
were many boys. Still further away was an old building of red brick,
making no pretence of architectural attractiveness and draped in ivy.
This was the recitation hall doubtless. And quite a distance beyond
the three foremost buildings a fourth peered around the corner of the
center one. It too was of shingle and stucco and beams, but it was
quite small. Beyond the school grounds there was a fringe of trees, and
back of that the country rose and fell in meadows and wooded hillsides.
The policeman had said that West House was farther than the school
itself and John hesitated at the gate. Then his gaze crossed the road
and there was another gate, a rustic one, with the sign “West House”
above it. So he turned his back on the school buildings and went
through the smaller gate and followed a neat gravelled path that dipped
down to a wooden bridge. Above the bridge was an oval pond half an
acre in extent. Under and below it a little brook ran, fern-fringed
and murmurous, to disappear in a patch of willows and alders beyond.
This was the park from which the school took its name. The path led
upward again and wound westward through a grove of oaks. Here and there
shrubs and plants, their leaves drooping and wilted, lined the path.
With the exception of the Public Gardens in Boston, John had never seen
anything as beautiful as that far-reaching expanse of turfed ground
with the great wide-spreading oak trees throwing their pools of dark
green shadow on the grass. There seemed to be no limits to the park,
for as far as he could see his vision was shut in by leaf and branch
and trunk. Once he thought he spied the top of a red chimney through
the greenery, but he wasn’t certain of that. He was certain, however,
that Oak Park School exceeded his expectations as far as attractiveness
went, and he found so much pleasure in following the path and viewing
the new vistas of sun and shade that opened up before him at every turn
that he quite forgot his former despondency and was so absorbed that
when, quite unexpectedly, the trees stopped and a white cottage with
green blinds appeared before him he was quite astounded.