[Illustration: AS BOB CROSSED HOME PLATE WITH HIS RUN, JERRY WAS NOT
FAR BEHIND HIM.]
----_The Motor Boys_----
NED, BOB AND JERRY
AT BOXWOOD HALL
Or
The Motor Boys as Freshmen
BY
CLARENCE YOUNG
AUTHOR OF “THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES”
“THE RACER BOYS SERIES” “THE
JACK RANGER SERIES,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
BOOKS BY CLARENCE YOUNG
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
=Price, per volume, 60 cents, postpaid.=
=THE MOTOR BOYS SERIES=
THE MOTOR BOYS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVERLAND
THE MOTOR BOYS IN MEXICO
THE MOTOR BOYS ACROSS THE PLAINS
THE MOTOR BOYS AFLOAT
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN STRANGE WATERS
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE PACIFIC
THE MOTOR BOYS IN THE CLOUDS
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE ROCKIES
THE MOTOR BOYS OVER THE OCEAN
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE WING
THE MOTOR BOYS AFTER A FORTUNE
THE MOTOR BOYS ON THE BORDER
THE MOTOR BOYS UNDER THE SEA
THE MOTOR BOYS ON ROAD AND RIVER
=THE MOTOR BOYS--SECOND SERIES=
NED, BOB AND JERRY AT BOXWOOD HALL;
Or, The Motor Boys as Freshmen
=THE JACK RANGER SERIES=
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOLDAYS
JACK RANGER’S WESTERN TRIP
JACK RANGER’S SCHOOL VICTORIES
JACK RANGER’S OCEAN CRUISE
JACK RANGER’S GUN CLUB
JACK RANGER’S TREASURE BOX
=THE RACER BOYS SERIES=
THE RACER BOYS
THE RACER BOYS AT BOARDING SCHOOL
THE RACER BOYS TO THE RESCUE
THE RACER BOYS ON THE PRAIRIES
THE RACER BOYS ON GUARD
THE RACER BOYS FORGING AHEAD
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
=Ned, Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall=
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE OVERTURNED AUTO 1
II. A FAMILY CONFERENCE 10
III. THE RACE 20
IV. THE DECISION 29
V. GOOD NEWS 37
VI. BOXWOOD HALL 46
VII. OFF TO COLLEGE 53
VIII. PROFESSOR SNODGRASS 61
IX. THE PROFESSOR’S SHOES 70
X. A COOL RECEPTION 79
XI. THE PROFESSOR’S DILEMMA 87
XII. IN THE GYMNASIUM 97
XIII. THE BANG-UPS 105
XIV. THE INITIATION 113
XV. CAUGHT 124
XVI. A COLLISION 132
XVII. THE AEROPLANE 140
XVIII. THE POSTPONED EXAMINATION 148
XIX. THE BOXWOOD PICTURE 160
XX. “WHO TOLD?” 167
XXI. THE COASTING RACE 175
XXII. THE ICE BOAT 183
XXIII. SPRING PRACTICE 191
XXIV. A SCRUB GAME 199
XXV. A VARSITY LOSS 207
XXVI. DISSENSIONS 214
XXVII. THE ROOTERS INSIST 220
XXVIII. IN THE TENTH 228
XXIX. MR. HOBSON 235
XXX. THE WINNING GAME 240
INTRODUCTION
MY DEAR BOYS:
With this volume begins a new series of adventures for the “Motor
Boys.” Under the title “Ned, Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall; Or, The
Motor Boys as Freshmen,” I have had the pleasure of writing for you
the various happenings that took place when the three young men, whose
activities you have followed for some time, entered a new field.
The fathers of Ned Slade and Bob Baker, and the mother of Jerry
Hopkins, in consultation one day, decided that the young men were
getting a bit too wild and frivolous.
“It is time they settled down,” said their parents, “and began to think
of growing up. Let’s send them to college!”
And to the college of Boxwood Hall our heroes were sent. It was a
surprise to them, but it turned out to be a delightful surprise, and
one of the reasons was that their old friend, Professor Snodgrass, now
an enthusiastic collector of butterflies, was an instructor at Boxwood.
Of what took place at the college, of the hazing, the initiation, the
queer developments following an automobile rescue, of how the motor
boys gradually overcame an unfair prejudice, and how they helped to
win a baseball victory--for all this I refer you to the following
pages. The titles of the second series will include the names Ned, Bob
and Jerry, in various activities, and while they will still use their
motors, in auto, boat or airship, those machines will be of secondary
consideration.
And with this explanation, and with the hope that you will accord this
book the same welcome you have given my other writings, I remain,
Sincerely yours,
CLARENCE YOUNG.
NED, BOB AND JERRY AT BOXWOOD HALL
CHAPTER I
THE OVERTURNED AUTO
“What do you reckon it’s all about, Jerry?”
“Well, Bob, you’re as good a guesser as I am,” came the answer from
the young man who was at the wheel of a touring car that was swinging
down a pleasant country road, under arching trees. “What do you say it
means?”
“I haven’t the least idea, unless it’s some business deal. Ned, why
don’t you say something, instead of sitting there like a goldfish being
admired by a tom-cat?” and Bob Baker, who sat beside Jerry Hopkins, the
lad at the wheel, turned to his chum in the rear seat of the car.
“Say something!” exclaimed Ned Slade. “I’m as much up in the air about
it as you fellows are. All I know is that my dad, and yours, and
Jerry’s mother, are having a confab.”
“And a sort of serious confab at that,” added Bob. “Look out there,
Jerry!” he cried suddenly. “You nearly ran over that chicken,” and
he involuntarily raised his hand toward the steering wheel as a
frightened, squawking and cackling hen fluttered from under the front
wheels of the automobile, shedding feathers on the way. Then Bob
remembered one of the first ethics of automobiling, which is never to
interfere with the steersman, and he drew back his hand.
“A miss is as good as a mile,” remarked Jerry coolly, as he brought the
car back to a straight course, for he had swerved it to one side when
he saw the chicken in the path. “But I agree with you, Bob, that the
conference going on at my house, among our respected, and I might as
well say respectable, parents does seem to be a serious one. However,
as long as we can’t guess what it’s about there’s no use in worrying.
We may as well have a good time this afternoon. Where shall we go?”
“Let’s go to Wallace’s and have a bite to eat,” put in Bob.
“Why, we only just had lunch!” exclaimed Ned, with a laugh.
“Maybe you fellows did, but I wouldn’t call it a lunch that I got
outside of--not by a long shot! Mother isn’t at home, it was the girl’s
day out and I had to forage for myself.”
“Heaven help the pantry, then!” exclaimed Jerry. “I’ve seen Bob
‘forage,’ as he calls it, before; eh, Ned?”
“That’s right. He did it at our house once, and say! what mother said
when she came home--whew!” and Ned whistled at the memory.
“I wasn’t a bit worse than you were!” cried Bob, trying to lean back
and punch his chum, but the latter kept out of reach in the roomy
tonneau. “Anyhow, what has that got to do with going to Wallace’s now?
I’m hungry and I don’t care who knows it.”
“Well, don’t let that fat waiter at Wallace’s hear you say that, or
he’ll double charge us in the bill,” cautioned Jerry. “They sure do
stick on the prices at that joint.”
“Then you’ll go there?” asked Bob eagerly.
“Oh, I s’pose we might as well go there as anywhere. Does it suit you,
Ned?”
“Sure. Only I can’t imagine where Bob puts it all. Tell us, Chunky,
that’s a good chap,” and he patted the shoulder of the stout lad who
sat in front of him.
“Tell you what?” asked Bob, responding to the nickname that had been
bestowed on him because of his stoutness.
“Where you put all you eat,” went on Ned with a laugh. “You know it is
impossible to make two objects occupy the same space at the same time.
And if you’ve eaten one lunch to-day, and not two hours ago, where are
you going to put another?”
“You watch and see,” was all the answer Bob made. “Hit her up a bit,
Jerry. There’s a stiff hill just ahead.”
“That’s right. I forgot we were on this road. Well, then it’s settled.
We’ll go to Wallace’s and let Bob eat,” and having ascended the hill,
he turned off on a road that led to a summer resort not many miles from
Cresville, the home town of the three lads.
“Aren’t you fellows going to have anything?” asked Bob. “You’ll eat;
won’t you?”
“Oh, for cats’ sake, cut out the grub-talk for a while!” begged Ned.
“Say, what about that conference, anyhow? Does any one know anything
about it?”
“All I know,” said Jerry, “is that I asked mother to come out for an
auto ride this afternoon, and she said she couldn’t because your dad,
Ned, and Bob’s too, were coming over to call.”
“Did you ask her what for?”
“No, but I took it for granted it was something about business. You
know mother owns some stock in your father’s department store, Ned.”
“Yes, and she deposits at dad’s bank,” added Bob, whose father, Andrew
Baker, was the president of the most important bank in Cresville. “I
guess it must be about some business affairs.”
“I don’t agree with you,” declared Ned.
“Why not?” Jerry demanded. “When mother said she couldn’t come out I
hustled over and got you fellows, and here we are. But what’s your
reason for thinking it isn’t business, Ned, that has brought our folks
together at my house?”
“Because of some questions my father asked me this morning.”
“Serious questions?” Bob interrogated.
“Well, in a way, yes. He asked me what I’d been doing lately, what you
fellows had been doing, and he wanted to know what my plans were for
this winter.”
“What did you tell him?” inquired Jerry, slowing down as he came to the
crest of another hill.
“Oh, I said we hadn’t decided yet. I didn’t tell him we had talked over
making a tour of the South, for we hadn’t quite decided on it; had we?”
“Not exactly,” responded Jerry. “And yet the South is the place when
winter comes. I guess we might do worse.”
“Well, I didn’t say anything about that,” went on Ned, “because, if I
had, dad would have wanted to know all the particulars, and I wasn’t in
a position to tell him.”
“Is that all he asked you that makes you think the conference may be
about us, instead of business?” Bob inquired.
“No, that wasn’t quite all. He asked me about that trouble we got into
last week.”
“Oh, do you mean about the time we were pulled in for speeding?” asked
Jerry with a laugh.
“That’s it,” assented Ned. “Only it isn’t going to be anything to grin
at if dad finds out all about it--that we nearly collided with the hay
wagon while trying to pass that roadster. Say, but it was some going!
We fractured the speed limits in half a dozen places.”
“But we beat the roadster!” exclaimed Jerry. “That fellow didn’t know
how to drive a car.”
“You’re right there. And, for a second or two, I thought you were
going to make a mess of it,” said Ned, referring to an incident that
had happened about a week previously when the boys, out on the road in
their car, had accepted an impromptu challenge to race, with what might
have been disastrous results.
“It was a narrow squeak,” admitted Jerry.
“And the nerve of that farmer, setting the constable after us!” cried
Bob. “Just because we wouldn’t let him rob us of ten dollars to make up
for a scratch one of his horses got from our mud guard.”
“I sometimes think we might have come out of it better if we had given
the hayseeder his ten,” said Jerry, reflectively. “It cost us fifteen
for the speed-fine as it was. We’d have saved five.”
“And is that what your father was asking about?” asked Bob.
“Words to that effect--yes,” replied Ned.
“Wonder how he heard about it?”
“It wasn’t in the paper,” reflected Jerry. “I looked all over for an
account of it, but didn’t see any.”
“No, it wasn’t in the paper,” said Ned, “but dad hears of more things
than I think he does, I guess.”
“We have been speeding it up a bit lately,” observed Jerry in a
reflective tone.
“Just a little,” admitted Ned, with a half smile.
The three chums were clean-cut, healthy-looking lads, and it needed but
a glance into their clear faces to tell one that whatever “speeding”
they had been doing was in a literal sense only, and was not in the way
of dissipation. They were fun-loving youths, and, like all such, the
excitement of the moment sometimes got the better of them.
“And so you think the conference may have something to do with us; is
that it, Ned?” asked Jerry, after a moment or two of silence.
“I have an idea that way--yes, from what dad said, and from what he
wanted to know about our future plans. We’re mixed up in it somehow,
that’s as sure as turkey and cranberry sauce.”
“That sounds like Chunky!” laughed Jerry.
“Well, what’s the idea?” demanded the stout youth. “I mean--what do
you think will happen, Ned?”
“Well, you know we have been going a pretty lively gait lately, nothing
wrong, of course, but a sort of butterfly existence, so to speak.”
“Butterfly is good!” exclaimed Jerry. “You’d think we were a trio of
society girls.”
“Well, I mean we haven’t really done anything worth while,” went on
Ned. “And it’s my idea that my dad, and yours, Bob, and Jerry’s mother,
who is as good a dad as any fellow could want--I think they are going
to put the brakes on us.”
“How do you mean?” Jerry demanded.
“Oh, make us cut out some of the gay and carefree life we’ve been
living. Settle down and----”
“Get married?” laughed Jerry.
“Not much!” cried Bob. “Not if I can help it!”
“Of course not,” put in Ned. “I mean just settle down a bit, that’s
all.”
They swung around a curve in the road, and as they did so they saw a
powerful roadster coming toward them, driven by a man who was the sole
occupant. He was speeding forward at a fast clip.
“That fellow had better settle down!” exclaimed Jerry. “He’s going too
fast to make this turn, and this bank is one of the most dangerous
around here.”
The boys themselves had safely taken the turn, and come past the steep
embankment on which it bordered, but the man in the roadster was
approaching it.
“He isn’t slowing down,” said Ned.
“Better yell at him,” suggested Bob. “Maybe he doesn’t know the road.”
“Look out for that turn!” cried Jerry, as the man passed them.
It is doubtful if he heard them. Certainly he did not heed, for he
swung around the turn at full speed. A moment later the boys, who had
drawn to one side of the road, in order to give the man plenty of room
to pass, looked back.
They saw the speeding roadster leave the highway and plunge down the
bank, turning over and pinning the driver underneath.
“There he goes!” cried Jerry, jamming on the brakes.