BOXWOOD HALL
Imagine a great, green, grassy bowl, nestled snugly amid a succession
of green hills, set, more or less regularly, in a circle. And at the
bottom of the great, green, grassy bowl, which is miles across, imagine
further a silvery sheet, irregular in outline and sparkling in the sun.
Up on one of the sides of the green, grassy bowl, where it leveled out
into a sort of plateau, is a group of dull, red buildings, their maroon
color contrasting pleasingly with the emerald tint of the surroundings.
Across the tip of another hill lay a country town, and from a vantage
point one could see a railroad, like a shiny snake, winding its way up
to the town, stopping there, in the shape of a station, and then going
on across the valley.
The town is that of Fordham--a city some called it. It was in New
England, about half way between Boston and New York. The green bowl
was Fordham valley, and the shining, glittering bottom of it was Lake
Carmona, a beautiful sheet of water, some miles in extent.
The group of red buildings was Boxwood Hall with which we shall soon
concern ourselves, and which was very much in the minds of Ned, Bob
and Jerry at this moment, as it had been for some time. The college
buildings were about a mile, or, say a mile and a half to be exact,
from the Fordham railroad station, and were practically on the shore of
Lake Carmona, for the college owned the land running down to the lake,
and had on it a boathouse and a dock. But the buildings themselves lay
back a quarter of a mile from the water, and this quarter of a mile,
somewhat less in width, formed the college campus--one not surpassed
anywhere.
Upon this campus, strolling about here and there this fine fall day,
was a group of lads attired in the more or less exaggerated costumes
effected by college youth the world over.
“Say, fellows, I’ve got news for you!” cried Frank Watson, who, as one
could tell by the manner he used toward some of the other students, was
a sophomore. “Great news! Come here, Bill Hamilton--Bart Haley--you
too, Sid Lenton and Jim Blake. Come here and listen to me.”
“What’s the matter now?” asked Bill Hamilton, a flashily dressed lad.
“Has some one left you money?”
“I wish some one had,” remarked Frank.
“Same here,” drawled Bart Haley. “I never knew how much a fellow could
spend until I came here. I’m up against it hard!”
“No, it isn’t money,” remarked Frank. “It’s worse than that. What do
you know about this. There’s a bunch of new fellows coming here in a
week or so, and they’re about the limit--or at least I think they’ll be
that.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bart, slightly interested.
“This. There are three fellows coming into the freshman class. And from
what I hear they have been around pretty much, so they’ll probably be
fresher than usual and will try to run things here to suit themselves.
The know-it-all class, so to speak.”
“Who are they?” asked Bart.
“How’d you hear about this?” demanded Sid Lenton.
“They are--let me see. I jotted down their names so’s we’d have ’em
handy to use in case we had to. Here they are--Jerry Hopkins, Bob Baker
and Ned Slade. They’re from Cresville, and they’re going to bring their
auto with them. Fawncy now!” and Frank assumed a mocking air and tone.
“I asked you how you heard it,” came from Sid again.
“Professor Snodgrass told me. He’s a friend of theirs, it seems, and he
sent one of them a college catalogue. That’s how they came to be wished
on to us. It seems that Professor Snodgrass, who isn’t a bad sort by
the way, used to travel about with the Motor Boys, as their friends at
home call them,” said Frank, sarcastically.
“Motor boys?” repeated Bart Haley.
“Yes, that’s what they used to call themselves. Think of that--motor
boys!”
“Why was that?” asked Sid.
“Oh, because they did a lot of motoring. Had motor cycles first, it
appears, then they got an auto, then a motor boat, and then they even
had a submarine!”
“Get out! You’re stringing us!” cried several.
“No, it’s straight!” declared Frank. He sat down on the grass and
continued: “Why, some fellow even wrote a book--two or three of them I
guess--about these same motor boys. When Professor Snodgrass told me
they were coming here I pumped him for all he was worth. Thinks I to
myself, if we’re going to have fellows like that here, who sure will
try to walk over us, the more I know about them the better.
“So he told me all he knew, which was a lot. It seems he used to go
off on bug-hunting expeditions with them in the auto, the boat or the
airship.”
“Airship!” cried Jim Blake. “You don’t mean to say they had an airship,
do you?”
“That’s what the professor said.”
“Oh, he’s daffy! I’ll never believe that. They may have had an auto and
a motor boat--I’ve got one of them myself,” said Bill Hamilton. “But an
airship--never!”
“Well, we’ll find out about that later,” declared Frank. “Anyhow, some
fellow did write about the motor boys. He made up a story of how they
went overland, and even down into Mexico.”
“Mexico!” exclaimed Harry French.
“Yes, Mexico. And there they discovered a buried city, or something
like that. The professor made a big find there--some new kind of bug I
guess. And then there’s a book telling how these motor boys went across
the plains, and how they first went cruising in their motor boat. They
were on the Atlantic, on the Pacific, and in the strange waters of the
Florida Everglades. Some trip, believe me!”
“Do you s’pose it’s all true?” some one asked.
“The professor says so, and you know what a stickler he is,” responded
Frank.
“Well, if that’s the case, these fellows sure will try to put it all
over us,” declared Sid.
“They may try, but they won’t succeed,” declared Frank, and there was
a vindictive ring to his voice. “But this isn’t all. Ned, Bob and
Jerry--the motor boys--did go above the clouds in some sort of motor
ship, according to the professor. They went across the Rockies, and out
over the ocean. Then they went after some kind of a fortune, and even
helped capture some Canadian smugglers up on the border. And it’s all
in books, too.
“And, as I said, according to Mr. Snodgrass, these lads went down in a
submarine. I didn’t believe that at first, but he told me of the things
he saw and the specimens he caught, so I guess it’s true enough.
“Now they’re coming here. They got back from a long trip on road and
river just before Professor Snodgrass came here to teach, and they had
such lively times that their folks packed them here for us to look
after,” and Frank grinned.
“Oh, we’ll look after ’em all right!” cried Sid.
“That’s what we will,” added Bart Haley.
“If they try to run things here they’ll find that they’re running
themselves into the ground,” declared Jake Porter.
The group of students around Frank nodded assent. The boys were, as has
been said, sophomores, and most of them were on the baseball nine.
“I wonder if they’ll go out for football?” asked Ted Newton, captain of
the eleven. “We need some good material.”
“You wouldn’t have new fellows--butters-in like these three--on the
team; would you?” asked Frank.
“Well, they’d be eligible for the varsity under the rules here, which
are different from those of most colleges. I wouldn’t turn any fellow
down just because he’d had some adventures. Cracky! I’d like a taste of
them myself!”
“I tell you these motor boys will be impossible!” cried Frank. “You’ll
see! They’ll think they’re the whole show, and that we don’t amount to
anything. We can haze them and then we can sit on ’em good and proper,
and that’s what I say let’s do!”
“I’m with you,” drawled Bill Hamilton.
“Are they rich?” asked Sid.
“I s’pose they are,” admitted Frank, “or they couldn’t afford to do all
they have done. But that won’t make any difference to me. I’m going to
snub ’em and sit on ’em, for they’ll be sure to try to run things.”
“That’s right!” agreed some of his cronies. “We’ll show these motor
boys a thing or two at Boxwood!”
Thus, without having seen our heroes, the coterie led by Frank Watson
decided on a verdict against them--a verdict that was destined to cause
no end of trouble.