SPOILING THE FUN
There was a scurrying within the room and Hicksley heard the sound of a
window being hastily thrown up. Then after a long pause the door was
slowly opened.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Bronson in a tone of relief.
"Sure it is," replied Hicksley tersely. "Who did you think it was?
What's the matter with you fellows anyway. Any one might think I was a
cop, from the time you took to open the door."
"Worse than that," grinned Bronson. "I thought you might be Dr. Raymond
or one of the teachers. We were smoking. Now you've made us throw away
two perfectly good cigarettes and freeze ourselves by opening the window
to get the smoke out of the room. Shut the window again, Jack. It's only
Tom."
"Well, I'm not going to tell on you," replied Hicksley. "That is," he
added with a grin, "if you've got another cigarette left for me."
It was strictly against the rules to smoke, but in the opinion of these
worthless fellows rules were made only to be broken, and all three were
soon puffing away, after making sure that the door was securely locked.
Bronson was a tall, thin boy, with straw-colored hair. Jinks was
shorter, but very stocky. A squint that made his small eyes look smaller
still gave him a most unprepossessing appearance.
"Well, what's up?" asked Bronson, seeing from Hicksley's manner that he
had something to propose.
"I've just heard something that gave me an idea of how to get even with
that Bobby Blake and the bunch of boobs he goes with," replied Hicksley.
"Hope it's a good idea," said Bronson. "Anything that will down those
fellows you can count me in on."
"Same here!" ejaculated Jinks. "I never had any use for any of that
crowd."
"Let's have it, Tom," broke in Bronson impatiently. "Don't keep us
waiting."
"They're planning to have a big coasting time to-night," explained
Hicksley. "I heard them talking about it when I was down in the
gymnasium just now. And while I was listening I thought of a way to
queer the whole thing."
This sounded promising, and the interest on the faces of the others grew
intense.
"What is it?" they asked in the same breath, leaning forward eagerly.
Hicksley lowered his voice a trifle and rapidly outlined the plan that
had come to him.
He was fully satisfied with its reception, for both of his hearers
roared with delight.
"It's just bully!" cried Bronson.
"Best thing I've heard since Hector was a pup!" ejaculated Jinks.
"That'll put a spoke in their wheel all right," gloated Hicksley.
"Won't they feel sore?"
"They'll be frothing at the mouth."
"We'll have to be hiding somewhere near by where we can see the whole
thing," said Bronson.
"I wouldn't miss it for a hundred dollars," chuckled Jinks.
"They'll sing small for a long time after that," grinned Hicksley. "But
now if you think the plan is all right, we'll have to figure out just
how to go about it. It'll be a lot of hard work, and I don't want to do
it myself. I don't suppose you fellows want to muss yourselves up
either."
"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Bronson. "Do you know who Dago Joe is?"
"He's that Italian fellow down town who goes about doing odd jobs, isn't
he?" queried Hicksley.
"That's the one," Bronson assented.
"Well, what about him?" asked Hicksley.
"Just this," Bronson answered. "He's just the fellow for this job. He's
got a hand cart, and that will make it easy for him. Then, too, a dollar
will look as big to him as a meeting house. But even if he charges more
than that we can all chip in and it won't make very much for any of us."
"I wouldn't care if it cost us a dollar apiece," said Jinks. "It would
be worth it."
They talked for a few minutes longer, and then decided that rather than
let Hicksley do it alone they would all go down together to see Dago
Joe.
But to their surprise, Joe was at first inclined to balk at the
proposition. He was poor and had a large family to support and he needed
every dollar he could get, but he seemed to fear that the plan that the
bullies suggested might get him into trouble.
"I donta know," he said, shrugging his shoulders and extending the palms
of his hands. "Perhaps people nota like it. Maybe I be arrest."
"Nonsense, Joe," said Bronson. "There isn't a chance in the world that
anybody will get on to who did it. It will be after dark anyway. Be a
sport and take a chance."
"We'll make it two dollars," said Jinks. "It's easy money and you'd be a
fool not to take it."
Joe still had some qualms, but when the boys raised the price to three
dollars his scruples vanished.
"You can get the stuff down near the roundhouse," suggested Jinks.
"There's always plenty of it there."
Joe wanted his three dollars at once, but they compromised by paying him
half down with a promise of the other half when the work was done.
"Now for the big blowout," chuckled Jinks, as they wended their way back
to the school.
"It'll be a scream," gloated Bronson.
"A perfect riot," added Hicksley, who was in high feather, now that his
scheme seemed in a fair way of going through.
As for Dago Joe, he was a busy man for the rest of the day and for some
time after darkness fell.
There was an unusually good supper that night in honor of the holiday,
and the boys did it full justice. But they would have lingered still
longer at the table, if they had not been impatient to get out on the
hill for their carnival of coasting.
The wind had died down, but the air was keen and brought a frosty glow
to their eyes and cheeks as they made their way to the hill, drawing
their sleds behind them by ropes that hung over their shoulders.
"We'll make a new record to-night," said Bobby jubilantly. "I shouldn't
wonder if we fetched as far as the bridge; and we've never done that
yet."
"If we don't do it to-night we never shall," replied Fred, as they came
to the hill.
"It doesn't seem as if the sleds could ever stop when they get started
on ice like this," exulted Mouser.
"I'll tell you what let's do," suggested Sparrow. "The hill's wide
enough to hold six sleds going down at the same time. There's just about
seventeen or eighteen of us here. Let's start out in a bunch of six at a
time and go the whole length. Then, after that, we can have the separate
races."
"That's all right," agreed Fred. "The trouble is that each fellow will
want to go off in the first six."
"We'll soon settle that," replied Sparrow. "We'll draw lots and then
nobody will have any kick coming."
This proposal was greeted with acclamation, and amid a great deal of
chaff and laughter the lots were drawn.
The lucky ones happened to be Fred, Bobby, Mouser, Sparrow, Skeets and
Pee Wee.
"We'll let Pee Wee go in the middle," laughed Fred, "and we'd better
take care to keep close to the side of the road. He'll need more room
than any of the rest of us."
"I'd hate to have him plunk into me," grinned Bobby. "It would be a case
for the doctor, for sure."
"For the undertaker, more likely," chuckled Mouser.
"You fellows think you're smart, don't you?" grunted Pee Wee. "All the
same I bet I'll fetch farther than any of you."
"Hear who's talking," jibed Sparrow. "We'll leave you so far behind you
won't be able to see us with a telescope."
They ranged their sleds side by side and lay upon them flat on their
stomachs, holding firmly on the sides in front in order steer correctly.
"Are you all ready?" asked Howell Purdy, who had been chosen to give the
word.
"Ready," they answered.
"Then go!" shouted Howell.
The six sleds shot forward with a rush.