A HARD HIT
The next morning the boys woke to the realization that it was St.
Valentine's Day. There were valentines in their mail, valentines that
had been slipped slyly into their pockets, valentines that had found
their way under their pillows.
Some of them were the grotesque "comics" that were on sale in the
village stationery store, while others were mere scrawls adorned with
so-called pictures, and had been made by the boys themselves with pen
and pencil.
There was not much art about them, but there was a good deal of fun, and
that was all the boys were looking for. Most of them were based on
nicknames that the boys carried or on some event in their lives that was
known to the rest.
Mouser, for instance, was pictured with his own face on the body of a
mouse who was creeping toward a cage in which a big piece of cheese was
temptingly displayed.
Skeets was buzzing about as a big mosquito, over the bald head of a fat
man, who was getting ready to crash him as soon as he should settle
down.
Fred's red head had been drawn in red ink, and above his flaming mop one
boy was holding a frying pan and another was breaking eggs to cook an
omelet.
The boys had learned from Fred of the time when Bobby had coasted down
the Trent Street hill and gone head over heels into the drift. Bobby's
head could not be seen but his two heels were waving wildly in the air
and on one of them was the word "Bobby" and on the other "Blake."
Of course Pee Wee had not been overlooked. He was shown as a big fat
boy, and each of his knees had a dog's head on it. The dogs were barking
furiously. This was supposed to indicate his "barked" shins.
Because Billy Bassett was always asking questions with his conundrums,
he was shown as a great big question mark with the word "guess"
underneath.
Sparrow Bangs sat on a branch with a flock of birds, singing with all
his might, while in the bushes a hunter was taking careful aim and
getting ready to fire.
Under most of the pictures there were verses that brought forth shrieks
of laughter--usually from all, but sometimes from all but the recipient.
As a rule, it was pure fun without any sting in it, though Fred pointed
out that the hair in the picture was a good deal redder than that which
really waved over his freckled forehead. Pee Wee too was sure that he
was not anyway near so big as the human mountain that his picture showed
him to be.
There was plenty of chaff and laughter as the boys pored over the
valentines, and they would have gladly spent more time discussing them.
But as Fred had said, Valentine's Day was only a "fake" holiday, and the
hard-hearted teachers insisted on lessons and recitations. So the
pictures were hastily thrust into pockets until they had more time to
look at them and the boys trooped over to the classrooms.
Several times through the morning's work, they noticed that Tom Hicksley
shot furious glances at them and this aroused their curiosity.
"His royal highness seems mighty sore about something this morning,"
Fred whispered to Bobby.
"Got out of bed the wrong foot first maybe," replied Bobby.
"I hope he's got something to feel sore about," snapped Fred.
What that something was they learned after the lessons were over, and
they stood chattering with their friends, a little way off from the main
building.
Hicksley came up to them, accompanied by Bronson and Jinks. There was an
ugly look in the bully's eyes and he held a folded sheet of paper in his
hand.
"Which one of you boobs sent me this valentine?" he asked threateningly.
"How do you know that any of us did?" replied Bobby in Yankee fashion,
answering a question by asking one.
"I know that some of you did, because you butted in on me before,"
replied Hicksley.
"When was that?" asked Fred aggravatingly.
"You know well enough," growled Hicksley, who was not any too anxious to
recall his bully-ragging of the old soldier.
"Oh, yes, I remember," put in Mouser, as though he had just thought of
it. "You remember, fellows, how Hicksley reached out his foot and tried
to trip the old man up."
"I didn't," cried Hicksley untruthfully. "He fell over it by accident."
"And I suppose it was an accident that you kept at him with the feather
so that he couldn't get any sleep?" retorted Fred.
"That's neither here nor there," snarled Hicksley, dodging the matter.
"What I want to know is which one of you sent this valentine?"
"What are you going to do if you find out?" asked Bobby innocently.
"I'm going to give him a trimming that he'll remember," growled
Hicksley.
Bronson and Jinks ranged up alongside of him as though to assure him of
their support, and it looked as if trouble were coming.
"Give it to him good and plenty, Tom," said Bronson.
"The whole bunch of them need a licking," added Jinks.
"It will take more than you to give it to us," blazed out Fred
defiantly.
The bullies were much larger and stronger than any of the boys opposed
to them. On the other hand, the smaller boys had a larger number, so
that if a tussle did come, the forces would be about equal.
"What is this valentine you're making all this fuss about?" demanded
Bobby.
"Here it is," cried Hicksley furiously, thrusting it forward. "And I'm
going to make the fellow that sent it pay for it."
The boys crowded round and looked at it curiously, at the same time
keeping wary eyes on the bullies.
The picture was fairly well done, and had evidently taken a great deal
of work and time on the part of the one who had made it. It represented
a boy taking a dead mouse from a blind kitten. The boy was grinning, and
the kitten was pawing wildly about, trying to get back its mouse.
To make sure there could be no mistake, the kitten had a card around its
neck bearing the words, "I am blind," and under the figure of the boy
was scrawled the name, "Tom Hicksley."
The boys roared with laughter, and Hicksley's temper rose to the boiling
point.
"Own up now, which one of you did it," he demanded fiercely.
"Whoever did it knew you pretty well, Tom Hicksley," said Fred.
"What do you suppose the picture means?" inquired Mouser, as though he
could not quite make it out.
"I think it means that the fellow who would take a dead mouse from a
blind kitten is about as mean as they make them," put in Sparrow.
"Mean enough to torment a poor old soldier, I shouldn't wonder," added
Shiner, pouring oil on the flames.
"Are you going to tell me who did it?" snarled Hicksley once more,
snatching back the valentine, which he now regretted having shown, and
doubling up his fist.
"I would have done it if I'd thought of it," Fred came back at him.
Hicksley sprang forward, followed by Bronson and Jinks.
The boys stood their ground and there was a wild mix-up. In a moment
they were all down in the snow in a flying tangle of arms and legs.
There was no telling how the tussle would have terminated, though
Hicksley was getting his face well washed with snow that the boys were
cramming into his mouth and eyes, when a shout arose:
"Cheese it, fellows, there's a teacher coming!"
The combatants scrambled to their feet and scurried in all directions,
and when Mr. Leith, the head teacher, arrived on the spot, there was no
one to be seen.
Bobby and his friends found themselves, red, panting and uproariously
happy, in their dormitory, where they flung their books upon their beds
and fairly danced about with glee.
"I jammed so much snow in Tom Hicksley's mouth that I bet he'll taste it
for a month," chortled Fred.
"They tackled the wrong bunch that time," gurgled Mouser.
"They thought we'd run," chuckled Bobby.
"Wasn't that a dandy valentine?" demanded Skeets.
"What a fool he was to show it," grinned Pee Wee. "Now it'll go all over
the school."
"Who do you suppose sent it?" wondered Shiner.
"I'd give a dollar to know," declared Fred.
"All right," grinned Sparrow, holding out his hand. "Pass over the
dollar."
"You?" cried the other boys in chorus.