LANKY'S HARD LUCK
"It never rains but it pours!" cried Jack Comfort.
"Nothing but hockey in the air at present. Who's it from, Mr. Garrison?"
"That's easy to guess. I hear the Bellport fellows have been practicing
some lately. They feel sore over the easy win by Clifford last year."
"Wrong in your guess, Bones. This is from the Castoff League!"
"What's that?" cried several in chorus, while looks were exchanged.
"The challenge is signed by seven names, and these constitute what they
choose to call the Wanderer Hockey Team," continued the president.
Frank suddenly laughed as though he saw light.
"I don't know, Mr. President, but I've got a hunch that I could mention
a few of the names on that paper," he remarked.
"Well, suppose you try, just to see," replied the other.
"How would Lef Seller, Bill Klemm, Tony Gilpin, Asa Barnes, and Watkins
Kline answer?" queried Frank, promptly, while the others gasped.
"First rate, as far as you've gone. Well, Lef is the president of the
Castoff League. He dares us to have a try with his team to-morrow,
Saturday, morning, and promises to make it interesting for us if we
accept," said Mr. Garrison.
He looked around at the faces of the gathered committee.
"It's up with you, gentlemen, to either accept or decline this
challenge. If you asked my advice I'd suggest that you have nothing to
do with the crowd Lef Seller has tagging after him. I've watched that
boy a long time now, and never yet heard anything good of him."
"But they'd have the laugh on us if we declined," remarked Jack,
shaking his head.
"And it would look as if we were afraid of the wonderful Wanderers,"
said Ralph West, one of Frank's most intimate chums, and a chap in whom
young Allen had the deepest interest on account of certain strange
occurrences connected with his life.
"Settle it in your own way; it's up to you," said the gentleman who
presided, as he shrugged his shoulders. "I admit that I can't see
things in quite the same light as you boys can. What do the rest of
you say?"
"I say, yes!" cried Lanky, of course, for nothing less could be
expected from one of his impulsive nature.
"And on the whole, we might profit by some such exercise before meeting
those fast fellows from Clifford. I think it might pay us to accept,"
remarked Frank.
At the same time he was wondering whether the crafty Lef might not have
some sinister motive in thus seeking to coax the Columbia Seven into
playing a match with his crowd on the eve, as it were, of their meeting
with Clifford.
"I vote yes," remarked Paul Bird; "but I don't much fancy mixing with
that bunch. They're a tough lot, and if we play them we've got to keep
our eyes open constantly for trickery. I hate to say it, but I believe
every fellow of the seven would injure an opposing player if he thought
he could do it without being seen. Still, we can't help accepting. It
would be to get the laugh; and Lef knows it, too."
"Question!" called out Bones.
A vote resulted in an almost unanimous decision to accept the challenge
of the Wanderers for a game on the following morning, Saturday, at ten
o'clock.
"Then we'll do the thing properly, fellows," said the president; "I'll
write an acceptance, and get one of you to leave it at the Seller house
on the way home."
"I'll take it," said Lanky, quickly, "as I pass near there. Consider
that settled."
The balance of the evening passed pleasantly, and as usual, before they
finally separated, a number of the school songs were sung, Helen having
been impressed to do the honors at the piano.
To those who had once been students of old Columbia these familiar airs
were filled with joy. Even Roderic, who had been away at college only
half a term, was once more a Columbia High boy, and joined his voice
with the others in the songs that were so dear to all the hearts of her
sons and daughters.
"Don't forget to deliver that note, Lanky," called Frank, as the group
went out, laughing and chattering.
"Sure I won't. I'll put it under the door if everything is dark over
there; so Lef can have it early in the morning. The nerve of that
fellow thinking to down Columbia with his old castoffs that were not
good enough for us."
"Hold on," remarked Paul Bird, "you want to be careful how you believe
that. If you look back perhaps you'll find that the real reason why
none of that crowd has been on our teams has been because of their
character, not on account of their lack of stamina. Why, Lef always
used to be a wonder in athletics several years ago; and Bill Klemm is
able to hold his end up with nearly any one."
"Paul is right," remarked Roderic Seymour, quickly; "and it may be that
these fellows will put up a stiff game to-morrow. They've got nothing
to lose and everything to win. Don't underestimate them, or you boys
may have a sudden cruel awakening. I've seen it happen so, more than
once."
"Oh! I understand, and when the times comes you won't find me flunking,
or being too certain. But that fellow does bother me. He's sure a
bundle of nerves. After what he did to-night, to think of him coolly
getting up this dodge," went on Lanky.
"What did he do to-night?" asked Ralph; for it had been decided between
the two ice-boat voyagers that for the present they would say nothing
about the strange succession of "accidents" that had befallen them,
going to and from Clifford.
"Some other day I'll tell, when I have more time. Ask Frank about it.
Good-night, fellows, I'm off this road," and Lanky switched away from
the group.
"Don't forget that note!" called Jack Comfort.
Lanky did not answer him. Truth to tell he had come to a sudden stand
there on the street, and was staring at a figure which, passing the
corner where the colored light from an apothecary shop drifted across
the pavement, had turned a face toward him for a brief moment.
"Bill!"
Lanky muttered the word to himself, after the manner of one who fancied
that he had seen a ghost. He even rubbed his eyes and winked, in the
belief that he was seeing things that did not exist. For since he had
left that forlorn figure up in camp at Rattail Island, it hardly seemed
possible that he could run across him here, only a few hours later, in
Columbia!
The shuffling figure turned the corner and was gone. Lanky took a step
forward as if tempted to follow after; then came to a halt.
"Rats! Why should I think of chasing after that poor chap? It was him
as sure as guns; but what of that? Rattail is only two miles up by the
road. A hobo thinks nothing of tramping ten or twenty in a day. What's
he want down here to-night? Well, if he's like the rest of the breed I
reckon its liquor that draws him. Bill--Bill what? There he was, right
before me again, and I ain't an inch closer to solving that terrible
puzzle than before. Bill--Billy Smith, Brown, Jones; say, this is just
awful how it gets away from a fellow."
So shaking his head Lanky walked on. He could not help from turning a
few times to ascertain whether the tramp was still in sight.
"He's gone, all right, and I reckon cut a bee line for the nearest
saloon. And yet, come to think of it, he didn't exactly look like a
drinker. There was something queer about that fellow, something a
little mournful, too. Frank noticed it, though he didn't remember ever
seeing him before. Wish I hadn't, for it bothers me like the mischief.
Bill is going to haunt me until I know the rest."
Lanky walked on. After a short time he drew near the home of Lef
Seller. It was a fine place, with a fence all the way around; for Mr.
Seller owned the trolley line that led to Bellport, also the electric
light plant, and several more things connected with the prosperity of
Columbia.
"H'm! wonder if that old Brutus is tied up?" mused Lanky, as he reached
the gate, and looked in! "he's almost toothless, but just as savage as
ever. And I never fancied the rascal years back. Guess I'll take a peep
and make sure."
Accordingly he walked on for a dozen yards, to where he could look back
into the grounds of the Seller place.
"There's his little old dog-house under that evergreen tree. I can just
see it in the moonlight, and beyond the patch of snow. What's that
moving? Must be Brutus, all right, and he's chained up. Here goes
then," and returning to the gate he passed through.
About that time he heard the clank of a chain. Then Brutus lifted up
his tuneful voice, and began to bark savagely. The beast used to be the
terror of the community; but age was swooping down upon him. With his
teeth gone he did not create so much alarm in the hearts of passersby;
but his bark was as full of fury as in the days of his prime.
"Go it, old fellow. Don't you wish you could break loose, and get me?
There's many an old score unsettled between us. My! but he's furious
though! I'll stick this letter under the door, and skip out before
he breaks his chain. There's nobody up in the house it seems, since
everything's dark."
Lanky ran up the front steps and as speedily as possible pushed the
answer to the latest challenge under the door, where it would surely
be seen the first thing in the morning, when the maid opened up the
vestibule.
Then turning, he started down again, meaning to hasten out of the gate;
for that angry barking and snapping of the animal tearing at his chain
in the rear yard did not please him at all.
He had just taken two strides away from the bottom step when he
received a shock that was quite as bad as when that wire cable uptilted
the ice-boat on the frozen bosom of the Harrapin.
Something moving with the speed of the wind came whirling around the
side of the house. One look Lanky took, and gasped with alarm; for in
the moonlight he had no difficulty in recognizing Brutus, the old dog
that nursed a grudge against him!