JOE LEARNS SOMETHING
Joe Matson had been in fights before. Some had been forced upon him, and
he accepted the challenges for sufficient reasons, and had given a good
account of himself in the battles. Other fistic encounters had been of
his own seeking and for excellent reasons he had generally come out
ahead.
The prospective fight with the bully was very sudden. Joe had seen what
he considered a mean trick on Hiram's part and had thrown on the impulse
of the moment. He rather regretted his hasty action, but it was too late
for regrets now, and he was willing to accept the outcome.
"I'm going to make you wish you'd never come to Excelsior Hall!" cried
Hiram, and with that he expected the blow which he had aimed at Joe to
land on the countenance of our hero.
But, like the celebrated flea of history, who, as the Dutchman said,
"ven you put your finger on him, dot flea he aind't dere!" so it was
with Joe. He cleverly ducked, and then waited for what would happen
next.
Something did happen with a vengeance. Hiram had rushed up the slippery,
sloping, inner wall of the fort to get at Joe, and pummel him for
sending the snowball smashing into his face, but when Joe turned aside,
and Hiram's fist went through the air like a batter fanning over a swift
ball, the bully was unable to recover himself.
He overbalanced, clawed vainly at the atmosphere, made a grab for Joe,
who took good care to keep well out of reach, and then Hiram Shell went
slipping and sliding down the outside wall of the snow fort, turning
over several times ere he landed at the bottom, amid a pile of the white
flakes.
[Illustration: HIRAM SHELL WENT SLIPPING AND SLIDING DOWN THE OUTSIDE
WALL OF THE SNOW FORT.]
In his descent he struck several lads who were swarming up to the
attack, and these Hiram bowled over like tenpins, so that when he
came to rest he was in the centre of a pile of heaving bodies, and
of threshing and swaying arms and legs, like a football player downed
after a long run.
"Get off me, you fellows!" yelled Hiram, when he could get his breath.
"I'll punch some of you good and hard for this!"
"And you'll get punched yourself if you don't take your feet out of
my face!" retorted Peaches, who was one of the few pupils not afraid of
the bully.
"Where's that Joe Matson? I've got a score to settle with him," went on
Hiram, as he struggled to his feet, and disentangled himself from the
mass of snow-warriors.
"You'll have one to settle with me if you knock me down again!" cried
Teeter Nelson, as he tried to shake some snow out from inside his
collar. It was melting and running down his back in little cold streams.
"What do you mean by playing that way?" demanded Teeter, who had not
seen the impending fight between Joe and Hiram. "Why don't you stay
inside your own fort, and not make a human battering ram of yourself?"
"You mind your own business!" snapped Hiram with an ugly look. "I
slipped and fell, or else Joe Matson pushed me. Wait until I get hold
of him."
With a look of anger on his face, Hiram turned and went swarming up the
outer wall of the fort. At the top stood Joe, waiting, and the lad's
face showed no signs of fear, though he was a trifle pale. Though Hiram
was larger, and evidently stronger than Joe, our hero was not afraid.
He was debating in his mind whether it would not be better to rush to
the ground below, where he would have a better chance if it came to an
out-and-out-fight. Yet Joe had a certain advantage on top of the snow
wall, for he could easily push Hiram down. Yet this was not his idea of
a contest of that kind.
"I'll fix you, Matson!" muttered the bully. "I'll teach you to push me
down! You might have broken my arm or leg," he added in an injured tone.
"I didn't push you!" retorted our hero. "You tried to hit me and missed.
Then you fell."
"That's right!" chimed in Peaches, amid a silence, for the general
snowball fight had ceased in anticipation of another kind of an
encounter.
Hiram balanced himself half way up the white wall.
"What did you smash me in the face with a snowball for?" he demanded.
"We made it up that no one was to aim at another fellow's face at close
range, and you know it."
"Of course I know it," answered Joe. "But that rule applied to hard
balls, and I didn't use one. I threw a soft ball at you, and you know
why I did it, too. I'll let Luke Fodick have one, too, if he does it
again."
"Does what again?" sneered the bully's crony.
"Use icy balls. I saw you and Hiram take some frozen ones from that
box," and Joe pointed to the secret supply of ammunition. "Some of our
fellows were hit and that's why I threw in your face, Hiram. Now, if you
want to fight I'm ready for you," and Joe stood well balanced on top of
the wall, awaiting the approach of his enemy.
Somehow the fighting spirit was oozing out of Hiram. He felt sure that
he could whip Joe in a battle on level ground, but when his opponent
stood above him, and when it was evident that Joe could deliver a blow
before Hiram could, with the probability that it would send the attacker
sliding down the wall again, the bully began to see that discretion was
the better part of valor.
"Do you want to fight?" demanded Hiram, in that tone which sometimes
means that the questioner would be glad to get a negative answer.
"I'm not aching for it," replied Joe slowly. "But I'm not going to run
away. If you like I'll come down, but you can come up if you want to,"
and he smiled at Hiram. "You only got what you deserved, you know."
"That's right," chimed in Teeter. "You hadn't any right to use frozen
balls, Hiram."
"Sure not!" came in a menacing chorus from Joe's crowd of lads.
"Well, they weren't frozen very hard," mumbled Hiram. "I only threw a
few, anyhow, and you've got more fellows than we have."
"Because we captured some of yours--yes," admitted Joe.
"Well, all right then," answered the bully with no good grace. "But if
you throw at my face again, at such close range, Joe Matson, I'll give
you the best licking you ever had."
"Two can play at that game," was Joe's retort. "I'm ready any time you
are."
"Why don't you go at him now, and clean him up?" asked Luke Fodick,
making his way to where Hiram stood. "If you don't he'll be saying he
backed you to a standstill. Go at him, Hiram."
"I've a good notion to," muttered the bully.
He measured with his eye the distance between himself and Joe, and
wondered if he could cover it in a rush, carry his opponent off his
feet, and batter and pummel him as they rolled down the fort wall
together.
"Go on!" urged Luke.
"I--I guess I will!" spoke Hiram desperately.
Then from the outer fringe of the attacking crowd there arose a cautious
warning.
"Cheese it! Here comes old Sixteen!"
Professor Rodd was approaching and the lads well knew that he was
bitterly opposed to fights, and would at once report any who engaged in
them.
"Come on! Let's finish the snow fight!" cried Teeter. "Get back in your
fort, Hiram, and the rest of you, and we'll soon capture it."
"All right," said the bully in a low voice. Then looking at Joe he said:
"This isn't the end of it; not by a long shot, Matson. I'll get square
with you yet."
"Just as you choose," answered Joe, as he rallied his lads to the attack
again.
Then the snow ball fight went on, with Professor Rodd an interested
onlooker. Joe's boys finally won, capturing the fort; but the real zest
had been taken out of the battle by the unpleasant incident, and the
boys no longer fought with jolly good-will.
"Ah, that is what I like to see," remarked the Latin professor, as the
lads, having finished the game, strolled away from the fort which had
been sadly battered and disrupted by the attack on it. "Nothing like
good, healthy out-door exercise to fit the mind for the classics.
I'm sure you will all do better in Latin and Greek for this little
diversion."
"He's got another think coming as far as I'm concerned," whispered
Teeter to Joe. "I haven't got a line of my Caesar."
"This is certainly what I like to see," went on the instructor. "No hard
feelings, yet I venture to say you all fought well, and hard. It is most
delightful."
"It wouldn't have been quite so delightful if you'd have come along a
few minutes later and seen a real fight," murmured Peaches. "Would you
have stood up to Hiram, Joe?"
"I sure would. I was ready for him, though I don't want to be unfriendly
to any of the fellows here. But I couldn't stand for what he did. Oh,
I'd have fought him all right, even at the risk of a whipping, or of
beating him, and having him down on me all the while I'm here."
"I guess he's down on you all right as it is," ventured George Bland.
"And it's too bad, too."
"Oh, I don't know as I care particularly," spoke Joe.
"I thought I heard you say you wanted to play ball when the Spring
season opened," said George.
"So I do, but what has Hiram Shell got to do with it?"
"Lots, as you'll very soon learn," put in Teeter. "Hiram is the head
of the ball club--the manager--I guess you forgot that, and he runs
things. If he doesn't want a fellow to play--why, that fellow doesn't
play--that's all. That's what George means."
"Yes," assented George. "And Hiram is sure down on you after what you
did to him to-day, Joe."
The young pitcher stood still. Many thoughts came to him. He felt a
strange sinking sensation, as if he had suddenly lost hope. He dwelt for
a moment on his great ambition, to be the star pitcher on the school
nine, as he had been on the nine at home.
"Well, I guess it's too late to worry about it now," remarked Joe after
a bit. "I'm sorry--no; I'm not either!" he cried, with sudden energy.
"I'd do the same thing over again if I had to, and if Hiram Shell wants
to keep me off the nine he can do it!"
"That's the way to talk!" cried Teeter, clapping Joe on the back.