THE RACE
“Well, I feel better,” announced Bob Baker, with a satisfied sigh as he
arose from the restaurant table.
“I should think you would!” commented Jerry. “You ate as much as the
two of us,” and he nodded at Ned.
“I did not!” cried the indignant Chunky. “I’ll leave it to the waiter.”
“Oh, don’t call public attention to a thing like that,” put in Ned.
“Let it go. Come on out and finish our ride. It’s too nice to be
staying inside, even in a restaurant.”
It was a beautiful fall day. The fierceness of the summer heat had
gone, but the tang of late fall had not yet come, and it was perfect
weather for automobile riding.
Jerry and his chums were soon in the car once more, this time Ned
taking the wheel. They drove out past the place where Mr. Hobson had
met with his accident--an accident with a most fortunate outcome--and
there the boys saw some men from the garage engaged in pulling the
disabled car up the bank.
“That was some tumble!” called one of the men, as the boys paused to
look on.
“You’d have thought so if you’d seen it,” agreed Jerry.
It was just getting dusk when the three lads reached Jerry’s home.
“I’ll drive you chaps home, and put up the car,” he said, for the
automobile, though owned jointly by the lads, was kept in a garage
owned by Mrs. Hopkins.
“What are you going to do to-night?” asked Ned, as he was set down at
his residence.
“Nothing special,” Jerry replied.
“Let’s go to the movies,” suggested Bob. “They’ve got some Southern
travel scenes, according to the bills outside, and if we go down South
this winter we may see some of the places where we expect to be thrown
on the screen.”
“I’d just as soon,” agreed Jerry, and Ned nodded his assent.
“I’ll come over to your house, Ned, after supper,” Bob went on, “and
Jerry can call there for us.”
“All right,” Jerry assented, and then he swung the car in the direction
of his home.
“Did you have a nice ride?” his mother asked him.
“Fine!” he exclaimed. “Saved a man’s life, too!”
“More adventures!” Mrs. Hopkins exclaimed, thinking of the conference
that afternoon.
“No, it was the other way around,” Jerry explained. “Mr. Hobson had the
adventure, we just rescued him from it,” and he told of the overturned
automobile.
“Such reckless driving!” his mother murmured. “I hope you boys don’t
run your car so fast.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Jerry virtuously. “I wonder if she could have meant
anything by that?” he asked himself as his mother went out of the
room. “But I don’t believe she heard about that hay wagon. I hope not,
anyhow.”
“Jerry! there’s a letter for you on the mantel,” his mother called back
to him as she went upstairs.
“Wonder who it’s from,” mused the tall lad. It was in a long envelope,
without any return designation, and Jerry’s name and address were
typewritten, so he could not guess the sender, as he might have done
had it been in script.
“Some advertisement,” the lad went on, somewhat disappointed, as he
drew out a booklet. With it was a letter, and when Jerry had glanced at
the signature, before reading the epistle, he cried in delight.
“Why, it’s from Professor Snodgrass! What in the world is he up to
now?”
Readers of the former books of this series concerning Ned, Bob and
Jerry (volumes which will be mentioned more at length later) will
remember Professor Uriah Snodgrass, a most earnest scientist. His quest
after rare bugs and queer animals furnished our heroes with more than
one adventure, and took them into various queer places.
“Professor Snodgrass!” went on Jerry. “I haven’t heard from him in a
long while. I wonder where he is now?”
A glance at the top of the letter showed him.
The epistle was dated from Fordham, a New England city, and at the top
of the page, in embossed letters, was the name “Boxwood Hall.”
“Dear Jerry,” the letter read, “no doubt you will be surprised
to hear that I have been appointed instructor of zoology, among
other subjects, at Boxwood Hall.”
“Surprised is no name for it!” murmured Jerry, reading on.
“For some time the faculty has been trying to induce me to
settle down here, but I have preferred to roam about, completing
my collection of beetles. As that is about finished, I have
decided to accept the chair here. It is an excellent college,
and there are a number of fine students here, but I shall miss
the trips I used to take with you boys. Perhaps, though, during
the vacations, I may be able to be with you for a time. I am
making a collection of butterflies that are to be found in this
section of New England. I have a number of fine specimens
mounted, but as winter is approaching there will be little
further chance to add to my collection until the spring.
“I am sending you one of the Boxwood Hall catalogues, thinking you
may be interested in it. If you are ever in this neighborhood,
please come to see me. I am sure you will like it here. I
understand there are good football and baseball teams here, and
if you get here this fall, on one of the many trips you take,
you may see a good game. I don’t know much about such things
myself. Please give my regards to your mother, and remember me
to Ned and Bob.”
“Well, what do you know about that!” exclaimed Jerry. “Professor
Snodgrass at Boxwood Hall! I’ve heard of that college, and it’s a good
one. Well, I guess he’ll miss chasing around the country after bugs,
but the college certainly has one good instructor! I must tell the
boys.”
“Any news in your letter, Jerry?” asked Mrs. Hopkins at the supper
table that evening.
“Professor Snodgrass has taken the chair of zoology at Boxwood Hall,”
he replied. And then Mrs. Hopkins was called to the telephone, so Jerry
had no chance to mention the catalogue he had received.
A little later he went with his chums to the moving picture show,
telling them the news of the professor. At Ned’s house, after the show,
the boys looked at the catalogue, which contained many half-tone cuts
of the college buildings and grounds.
“Seems to be a nice place all right,” commented Bob.
“Where is it?” asked Ned.
“It’s about a mile outside of Fordham,” said Jerry, who had glanced
through the prospectus. “I didn’t know, before, what a large place
Boxwood Hall was. See, it’s located right on Lake Carmona, and they
have a boathouse on the college grounds. Lake Carmona is one of the
prettiest in New England, they say, though I’ve never seen it.”
“I was at the upper end of it once,” Ned stated, “but I didn’t get near
Boxwood. And so the dear old professor has settled down. Well, we sure
did have good times with him!”
“That’s right!” agreed Jerry. “Maybe we’ll get a chance to run up and
see him.”
“I hope so,” remarked Bob. “Look! Here’s the professor’s name in the
list of the faculty,” and he pointed it out in the catalogue. “He’s
got half the letters of the alphabet after it, too.”
This was not strictly true, though Professor Snodgrass had received
many degrees from prominent colleges for his scientific work. He
had written several books, too, on various subjects connected with
“bugology,” as the boys called it.
After some discussion of the new position which had been accepted by
their friend, the professor, and some reminiscent talk of the times
they had spent with him, Jerry and Bob went to their respective homes,
agreeing to go for another automobile ride on the morrow.
“Well, what shall we do now?” asked Jerry of his chums one afternoon,
several days after the receipt of the letter from Professor Snodgrass.
“I don’t just fancy any more autoing for the present.”
“What’s the matter with a ride in the motor boat?” asked Bob, for the
boys owned one. It was kept in the boathouse near the residence of Mrs.
Hopkins.
“Suits me,” agreed Ned, while Bob began:
“We can drop down the river to Anderson’s place and----”
“Get something to eat,” cut in Jerry.
“I didn’t say so!” Bob cried.
“No, but you thought it all right. Come on.”
The boys started for Jerry’s home, and at the foot of the long, green
lawn that led up to the front porch Ned cried:
“I’ll race you to the front steps to see who pays for the ice cream
sodas. Last man there pays!”
“All right!” assented Jerry.
“Give me a start,” begged Bob.
“Go on!” yelled Jerry. “You’re not so fat as all that. We start even.”
“I’m entitled to a handicap,” insisted Bob.
The boys were laughing and shouting, and making considerable noise.
Bob insisted that he would not race unless he was given the advantage
he claimed because of his stoutness, and finally Ned and Jerry agreed,
letting Bob have his “head start.”
“Are you ready?” yelled Jerry.
“Let her go!” shouted Ned.
“Go!” cried Bob, and the three lads raced toward the piazza.
Ned and Jerry cut down Bob’s lead in a short time, and Jerry, by reason
of slightly longer legs, soon passed Ned. They all three approached the
porch, Jerry and Bob reaching it at the same moment. They were both
going so fast they could not stop, and a moment later Bob tripped and
would have fallen had he not given a jump up in the air, and landed on
the porch. Then he slipped, and fell with a bang, spinning along the
piazza floor, while Jerry and Ned, laughing and shouting, jumped up
after him. Then, seizing him, one by each foot, they pulled him the
length of the smooth porch, which had no railing.
[Illustration: THEY PULLED BOB THE LENGTH OF THE SMOOTH PORCH.]
“Whoop! That was some race!” yelled Ned.
“And I beat!” declared Bob.
“Go on! You did not! You were disqualified by falling!” declared Jerry.
“I’m the champion!” and he executed a clog dance on the veranda.
At that moment the front door opened, and there stood Mrs. Hopkins,
while behind her were Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker. Mrs. Hopkins did not
smile, and there were rather serious expressions on the faces of the
two gentlemen.
“Oh, was it you making all the noise, Jerry?” his mother asked.
“I guess we did our share,” admitted Ned, a little sheepishly.
“Come in, boys,” said Mr. Baker. “We have an announcement to make to
you.”