THE FIGHTING PARSON
“Silence!”
Dick could see Mr. Holwell’s lips form this word, but his voice was
utterly unable to rise above the horrible din produced by the three
hoarse sirens blown in company, with might and main by the plotters.
Nat and his companions were turning red in the face with their efforts,
yet gave no sign of slowing up.
Leslie gripped Dick’s arm. He was furious with indignation, and had
Dick given him the signal, no doubt he stood ready to hurl himself on
the nearest disturber of the meeting, and try to snatch the instrument
of ear torture from his grasp.
Apparently, the minister had reached the end of his patience. He
doubtless realized that this din was not occasioned through simple
boyish enthusiasm, but must mark a well-arranged plot to break up the
first meeting of the Boys’ Department.
The very fact that Nat led the disturbers of the peace was highly
significant, for the Silmore boy’s reputation was anything but savory
in the annals of Cliffwood’s rising generation.
If Nat counted on Mr. Holwell being a man of peace because he wore the
garb of a minister, he made one of the greatest mistakes of his life.
Those who knew the reverend gentleman better could have told him that
for a man of his years he was as fine an athlete as could be found in
that section of the country.
Harry Bartlett was now alongside Mr. Holwell. His face was white with
indignation, and his eyes sparkled dangerously. Watching anxiously,
Dick saw the minister suddenly turn toward the Y. M. C. A. leader, and
nod his head. He may have spoken something at the same time, though
only Harry heard it.
Promptly the two of them pounced upon Nat and Dit, who, though taken
somewhat by surprise, made a desperate resistance. They were as pigmies
in the hands of the two men, who hustled them toward the door in great
shape, accompanied by the loud cheers of the assembled boys.
The third young ruffian, seeing Dick and Leslie making in his
direction, promptly threw up his arms to indicate that he surrendered,
and then bolted for the exit.
When he reached the door, Mr. Holwell held up a hand again to call for
silence, and then sternly addressed the boy who was squirming in his
iron grip, amazed at having been handled so vigorously by the man of
peace.
“If any of you give me the least trouble again tonight,” was what he
told Nat, “I promise to call the Chief of Police up on the ’phone, and
have him lock you up at the station. And you can never enter these
doors again as a prospective member of the Boys’ League until you have
written me an abject apology for your outrageous conduct tonight. Now
be off with you!”
With that he gave Nat a push and sent him outside the open door. Nat
immediately took to his heels, in which act he was quickly copied
by his two running mates. Dick saw him turn and look back over his
shoulder as he ran away, and wondered whether the fist he shook in the
air could have been intended as a threat for himself or Mr. Holwell.
Just then, however, he gave the matter no further thought, for he was
too full of excitement to bother about small things like Nat Silmore’s
resentment.
The boys once more trooped into the room and resumed their seats. Mr.
Holwell looked as calm as ever, though he and Harry Bartlett exchanged
a humorous smile or two. Indeed, Dick found himself wondering if the
elder gentleman might not really have enjoyed forgetting his peaceful
calling for a brief moment, and proving himself a muscular Christian,
ready to stand up for the right.
The names were taken down in regular order, for the boys proved eager
to enter themselves as prospective members of the new organization.
Many had come provided with the money for the small initiation fee;
others were promised a chance to earn it in due time, and entered under
that arrangement.
“I do not want a single boy present to feel that he is being debarred
from joining tonight,” Mr. Holwell announced, on seeing several hang
back. “Be frank with me, and tell me what you aim to do so as to earn
the amount necessary to pay your initiation fee. I have some plans
arranged, through the kindness of several friends, and no lad need lack
for a chance to enlist if he wants to become one of us.”
It ended in every fellow having his name taken down. A number knew of
others not present who were deeply interested, and, of course, they
were enjoined to act as missionaries, so as to lengthen the roster of
the Boys’ Club.
“I’d be only too well pleased,” said Mr. Holwell, after all these
details had been settled, “if every boy of a suitable age in and around
Cliffwood belonged to this new association, because I feel sure it is
bound to afford you all some of the happiest evenings of your lives.
We intend to do everything within reason to make this a pleasant home
for our boys, and in return only ask them to deal candidly with us. We
put you on your honor to stand by the rules, and ask nothing beyond
that.”
The meeting broke up by nine o’clock, for some of the boys were young,
and their parents would not care to have them out later than this. Dick
and Leslie walked homeward together, for they did not live far away
from one another. Dan had been compelled to hurry off, as there was
company at his house, with something of a “feast” so dear to the heart
of the average boy, which he did not care to miss.
“Well, what do you think of the prospects of the new organization?”
asked Leslie, as he and Dick walked along, arm in arm.
“Bully!” exclaimed the other, with just such enthusiasm as one of his
nature would be expected to display. “Twenty-six names on the roll call
already, and more coming. It’s already a big success, and Mr. Holwell
looks as proud as if he’d won a prize.”
“He’s a fine man, Dick, a splendid man!” declared Leslie. “I always
felt that he was the best friend the boys of this town ever had. But
say, I was never so tickled in all my life as when he grabbed Nat by
the scruff of his coat, and yanked him along to the door. Why, Nat,
big bully as he is, was like a pullet in the grip of Mr. Holwell.”
“And did you see how the minister’s eyes flashed when he was taking Nat
across the floor?” burst out Dick, with a chuckle of glee. “I guess
just for that minute he must have forgotten all about his calling, and
was just plain Tom Holwell again, left tackle of the Princeton football
squad of years ago. Wow! it was rich, let me tell you.”
Leslie seemed to be just as much amused as his chum, for he too laughed
heartily as they tramped along. The minister had made a new place for
himself that night, strange to say, in the hearts of numerous boys.
“And don’t forget,” continued Dick, “that Harry Bartlett was right in
the same class with Mr. Holwell. The way he jumped on Dit and yanked
him out of his seat was good for sore eyes. Why, I picked up Dit’s
siren from the floor, where he dropped it in his big scare. Guess they
didn’t think that gun was loaded, and when it went off with a bang,
they got a shock all right!”
“How about that prize of twenty-five dollars to be offered for the best
original black-face farce, Dick; think of having a look-in there?”
asked Leslie, who happened to know that the other occasionally indulged
in concocting stories, and, indeed, had always been considered the best
composition writer in the Cliffwood schools.
“I haven’t thought much about that yet,” replied Dick, slowly. “I must
say it sounds good to me. I believe I could get up a farce that would
be full of fun, and clean fun at that. And Leslie, that money would
come in mighty handy to me. I really need a new suit for one thing,
and Grandpop’s pension spreads out pretty thin when it has to cover so
much.”
“But every time I mention the fact that my Uncle Henry would be just
tickled to lend you any sum you wanted, Dick----”
“That’s enough, Leslie,” hastily interrupted the other boy, laying a
hand on his chum’s arm, while his voice trembled a little, though in
the darkness no one could see the tears that gathered in his eyes. “I
told you before I couldn’t come down to accepting charity, for that’s
what it would really be, though both of you are mighty kind to offer
such a thing.”
“Only a loan, Dick, you know; and you shouldn’t be so touchy over it.”
“Excuse me, Leslie,” said Dick, drawing in a long breath. “Perhaps
most fellows would look at it that way, and accept your offer only
too gladly. I might too if it was for my mother, or Sue; but not for
myself. I’d rather go in patched clothes all my life than knuckle down.
Oh, yes, I am proud, and perhaps foolish, but I just can’t help it, so
don’t say any more.”
Evidently, Leslie knew his chum well enough to feel certain that
argument would not change his determination, once he had set his mind
on a certain course. On that account then, Leslie dropped the subject,
though it was often troubling him; and he hoped some way would yet be
found whereby the Horner family might be assisted without Dick feeling
that he was an object of charity.
“What’s the report from the Brandon place tonight, Dick?” he asked, in
order to turn the conversation into another channel, as well as satisfy
his own curiosity.
“Everything is moving along as fine as silk,” his chum replied,
cheerfully.
“Old Jed has seen little Billy again then, has he?” continued Leslie.
“Not a day passes during this fine weather but they meet,” he was told.
“Why, it seems to me the old man hurries home early in the afternoon
more than he used to do, just as if he was looking forward to seeing
the little chap come along through the bushes.”
“Oh! I hope it turns out all right in the end,” said Leslie. “I was
telling my mother what we’d done, for she will keep it a secret,
believe me.”
“What did she think of the plan?” demanded Dick, anxiously, for he had
considerable respect for the opinions of his chum’s mother.
“Why,” replied the other boy, quickly, “she took to it right from the
start, and said it was just the finest plan she had ever heard of.”
“Well,” continued Dick, confidently, “it’s Mr. Nocker’s last chance to
come in out of the wet.”
“Listen!” exclaimed Leslie, just then, clutching his chum’s coat sleeve.
“What did you hear?” asked the other.
“I thought it was a chuckle,” replied Leslie, “but I guess it must have
been an engine whistling away over at the Barrtown crossing. You see
this is the only lonely place we’ve got to pass on the way home, and
if those fellows training with Nat should take a notion to lay for us,
it’d be around this section.”
“What gives you the idea they’d bother doing that?” demanded Dick, who
himself had been thinking along the same lines.
“Oh! well, it’d be just like Nat to want to have revenge on _somebody_
for being thrown out of the meeting tonight. And I happen to know he
hates you more than he does any other boy in Cliffwood. Better edge a
little further away from that bunch of bushes, Dick. There, what did I
tell you?”
Leslie’s last words were drowned in a series of harsh cries that sprang
from a party of boyish figures breaking from the suspicious bushes, and
leaping toward the two who were on the road leading to their separate
homes.