A NEW ENEMY
Tom Hicksley had caught sight of the three boys at the same moment, and
from the spiteful look that came into his small eyes it was clear that
he recognized Bobby and Fred.
The boys looked at him coldly but did not speak, and Hicksley, on his
part, seemed at first as though he were going to pass them without
saying anything. But the events of the evening before still rankled in
him, and he suddenly stopped.
"So you're the butt-ins that mixed up in my affairs last night, are
you?" he asked, in a tone that he tried to make sarcastic.
Fred flared up at once.
"Yes, we did," he shot out; "and we'd do it again if we saw you up to
your mean tricks. You can't do anything of that kind while we're around
and expect to get away with it."
"Hello! what's the fuss about?" asked Skeets, with sudden interest.
"You shut up!" commanded Hicksley. "This isn't any of your funeral. I'm
talking to these two boobs here."
"Don't tell me to shut up!" cried Skeets, who had a hair trigger temper
very much like Fred's own.
"I'll tell you anything I like," retorted Hicksley, who seemed to be a
master in the "gentle art of making enemies."
"I'll tell you what it was, Skeets," said Bobby. "I don't wonder that
he's so ashamed of it that he doesn't want it talked about. We saw him
teasing an old soldier--a real old man, mind you--who was trying to get
a little sleep. Then when the old man went up the aisle to get some
water, this fellow stuck out his foot and tried to trip him up. The man
had all he could do to keep from falling. That was too much for us
fellows and we made him stop."
"He ought to have had his head knocked off," growled Skeets.
"It would take more than you fellows to knock my head off," returned
Hicksley belligerently.
"You'd probably get along as well without it as with it," retorted Fred.
"We knocked your cap off anyway, and I notice that you changed your seat
just as we told you to."
"That was because the conductor came along," replied Hicksley. "And it's
a mighty good thing for you that he did. If he hadn't I'd have knocked
you into the middle of next week."
"You couldn't knock me into to-morrow, let alone the middle of next
week," returned Fred, who was now thoroughly aroused.
"Come, come, Fred," said Bobby soothingly. "There's no use in getting
into a temper about this fellow. He isn't worth it."
"I'll show you whether I'm worth it or not," cried Hicksley, in a rage.
"Don't you think for a minute that you've heard the last of this. There
were four of you fellows last night, and there are three of you now. But
I'll catch each one of you alone some time, and I'll tan each one of you
within an inch of your life."
"You'd better try it," answered Fred. "You'd be afraid to tackle a live
one. All you're good for is to torment a helpless old man. You're a nice
fellow, you are."
The quarrel, although it was none of the boys' seeking, was growing so
hot that it was perhaps just as well that Mr. Carrier, one of the
teachers, should come walking briskly along just at that moment. He saw
from their flushed faces that something unpleasant was in the wind, but
thought it just as well to ignore it rather than give it importance by
taking notice of it.
"Good morning, boys," he called cordially. "It's just about time for
meeting in the main hall. I'm going over there now, and you'd better
come along with me."
This put an end to the threatening trouble for the time, and the boys
followed along in his wake, Hicksley some distance behind the other
three and muttering threats under his breath.
"Isn't he a pippin?" said Bobby, in a low voice, so that Mr. Carrier
could not hear.
"Looks to me like something that the cat brought in," grumbled Fred,
whose rumpled feathers took some time for smoothing.
"He's going around looking for trouble," observed Skeets; "and that kind
is sure to find it before very long."
"No decent fellow will want to have anything to do with him," remarked
Fred.
"Except perhaps Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks," amended Bobby. "He'll be
just nuts for them."
"I said _decent_ fellow," repeated Fred.
They soon reached the main assembly room into which the boys were
streaming from all directions.
Dr. Raymond and the rest of the teaching staff were seated on a platform
in the front of the room. When the gathering had subsided into silence,
the principal rose and gave the boys a little informal talk about the
duties of the coming term and the spirit in which he hoped they would go
about their work. He dwelt especially on the incentives offered them to
become members of the "Sword and Star," the main society of the school,
and as he mentioned the name of the society, the boys who were members
jumped to their feet and gave the society yell:
"One, two, three--_boom!_
Boom Z-z-z-ah!
Rockledge! Rockledge!
Sword and Star!
Who's on top?
We sure are--
_Rock_-ledge!"
The hearty shout brought a flush of pleasure into the doctor's cheeks
and he looked around upon his charges with a face beaming with pride. He
concluded his talk with an urgent invitation to each of the boys to
strive for the Medal of Honor, the highest prize within the gift of the
school, and then dismissed them to their respective classes.
Here the proceedings were brief. The tasks for the following day were
assigned and then the boys were left to their own devices until the
hours set aside that afternoon and evening for preparing their lessons.
"Our soft snap is nearly over," mourned Fred. "From now on it will be
steady work until the end of the term."
"But think how much fun we'll have in between," comforted Bobby. "I've
got a hunch that we're going to have the bulliest time at Rockledge that
we've ever had yet."
"What makes you think that?" asked Fred pessimistically.
"I said it was a hunch, didn't I?" demanded Bobby. "You don't have to
explain a hunch. You just have it and that's all there is to it."
"I hate to think of buckling down to work again," said Fred. "We had
such a bully free time up in the woods that I wish it would last
forever."
"That's all the more reason you ought to be willing to work when the
time comes," remonstrated Bobby. "Think of the poor fellows that never
have any outings and have to work hard all the time."
"I suppose you're right," conceded Fred. "I don't know just what it is
that makes me feel that way. It wasn't so when I got up this morning.
I'll tell you just what I think it is," he said, as a sudden explanation
of his mood suggested itself to him. "I'll bet it's that Tom Hicksley. I
wanted to get a crack at him this morning when Mr. Carrier came along
and stopped us. I'd have felt better if I'd lit out at him."
"Now, Fred, cut out that fighting talk," said Bobby impatiently.
"There's nothing in it. What's the use of getting into a row that will
make your folks feel bad when they hear of it and perhaps bring you up
before the doctor?"
"I notice that you're ready enough to fight sometimes," grumbled Fred in
self-defense. "You'd have pitched into Ap Plunkit if he'd hit you with
that whip yesterday morning, and you were all worked up on the train at
Hicksley."
"That's a very different thing from looking for trouble," said Bobby
stoutly. "It's all right to take your own part when people try to bully
or strike you. But it's always best to keep out of a fight unless you're
forced into it. There wasn't really any reason to fight Tom Hicksley
this morning, and you know it."
"Perhaps if you had hair as red as mine you wouldn't find it so easy to
keep your temper," said Fred, falling back on an excuse he was fond of
using.
"Maybe not," laughed Bobby, "but you can make a try at it anyhow."
"What's this I hear about fighting?" said Frank Durrock, as he came up
behind them.
Frank was larger and older than the two boys, and a prime favorite with
them. He held the post of captain of the school. This carried with it no
official power, as that rested wholly with the teachers. But Frank was
supposed to have a general oversight, stop any disorder that went too
far and in general to act as a sort of big brother to the younger boys.
He was a fine athlete also, and had been captain of the football team on
which Bobby and Fred had played the preceding fall and which had won the
Thanksgiving game from Belden. His skill in baseball was also marked,
and he was expected to play first base on the nine in the spring.
"Oh, Fred was feeling a little sore over a row he had with Hicksley this
morning," explained Bobby.
"That new fellow?" asked Durrock. "I passed him a little while ago and
he was talking with Bronson and Jinks. They seemed to be quite chummy
together."
"What did I tell you?" cried Fred to Bobby. "I knew those fellows would
get together as sure as shooting."
"They're three of a kind," assented Bobby.
"I don't know anything about what kind of fellow he is," remarked Frank,
"but somebody was telling me that he was a good baseball player."
The boys did not think it was worth while to tell what they knew of
Hicksley and so kept quiet.
"He's big and husky and ought to make a good slugger," continued Frank,
"and we can't have too much batting strength on our nine. So if he can
field as well as bat, he may be able to get a place on the team."
The prospect was not at all pleasing to Bobby and Fred, but above
everything else they were loyal to the school, and if the newcomer would
be a help to the Rockledge nine they were perfectly willing to forget
their own feeling.
"So you see, Fred," continued Frank, "you don't want to hold any grudge
you may have against Hicksley. I don't know what your scrap was about
and I don't want to know, but whatever it is, forget it."
"Sure I will," said Fred heartily.
"You know how it was on the football team," went on Frank. "There were
fellows on that team that you didn't like--Jinks, for instance--but you
overlooked that feeling and played good football just the same. And we
want to do the same thing on the nine.
"I'm especially anxious to get up a strong nine this year," he
continued, "because we're going to have some pretty nifty teams against
us. Belden has got two or three new fellows that they say are
crackerjacks and they'll give us all we want to do to beat 'em.
"Then, too, we're going to have a little different scheme this season
than we ever had before. While you hunters have been up in the woods
shooting bears"--here he grinned--"I've been hustling around with a few
others and organized a new league."
"A new league!" exclaimed Bobby and Fred in the same breath.
"A new league!" repeated Skeets Brody and Sparrow Bangs, who had come up
just in time to hear the last words. "What do you mean, Frank? Tell us
all about it."
They gathered about him, their eyes glistening.