A JOLLY CROWD
There was a general bow and smile on the part of all, as the boys
acknowledged the introduction, and then Melvin became more personal:
"You have here before you," he said to the Rushton boys, assuming the
air and tone of a "barker" at a seaside show, "the most gorgeous
collection of freaks ever gathered under one tent. Positively,
gentlemen, an unparalleled aggregation of the most astonishing wonders
of nature now in captivity, assembled by the management without regard
to expense from all quarters of the civilized and uncivilized world. So
remarkable, gentlemen, are these specimens of the animal world that they
have even been taught to walk, talk and eat like human beings. Some have
even gone so far as to say that they _are_ human, although this
opinion is not maintained by those who know them best.
"And what do I charge you, gentlemen, for gazing at this mammoth
collection of monsters and missing links? Do I charge you a half a
dollar? I do not. Do I even ask you for a quarter? I do not. Do I even
set you back to the extent of a dime? I do not. Do I even extract from
your vest pocket the humble jitney? No, gentlemen, a thousand times, no!
"This amazing show is free, gentlemen, absolutely free, free as the air,
free as the sunshine, free as good advice, free as----"
He ducked, just as a pillow flew past his head.
"Jo-Jo, the dog-faced boy, did that," he explained; "whenever he hears
me say 'free' he thinks it means that he's to be free with me. But I
don't mind, because he never hits anything."
There was a general laugh, and Granger abandoned his showman's attitude.
"This is Billy Burton, the sweet singer of the Wabash," he said,
indicating a stocky youth with a shock of red hair. "We call him the
Indiana Nightingale, because he's so different. You ought to hear him
sing 'We Give the Baby Garlic, So that We Can Find Him in the Dark!' The
sentiment's so strong, it brings tears to your eyes."
"You're pretty good at music yourself, Mel," retorted Billy.
"I?" said Melvin in surprise. "Why I don't know one note from another. I
don't think I could play a jewsharp or a hand-organ. What kind of music
am I good at?"
"Chin music," replied Billy.
Melvin was fairly caught, and the boys howled.
"You got me that time, Billy," Melvin cried. "But, talking of music,
here's the real goods in that line," and he laid his hand on the
shoulder of an olive-skinned Italian boy, with delicate features and
large dark eyes.
"This is Tony Dirocco," he went on; "Tony's a count or some other high
muckamuck in his own country, and he's studying here while his father is
at Washington on some diplomatic business or other. But Tony doesn't
care half as much about books as he does about music. Say, when he gets
hold of a violin he fairly makes it talk. Real high brow stuff, you
know, operas and things like that, the kind that goes right up and down
your spine and takes your heart out by the roots. Just wait until he
gives us one of his concerts all by himself."
Tony shook hands with a shy smile, and the boys made up their minds that
they were going to like him immensely.
"Now for our Spanish athlete," said Granger, "the man who 'throws the
bull.' This is Slim Haley," and he nodded toward a fat chubby fellow who
must have weighed close to two hundred pounds. His broad face was
wreathed with smiles, and his eyes twinkled with fun, as he came
forward.
"This puny infant," went on Melvin, "can tell the most wonderful stories
you ever heard, and tell them with such an innocent air that sometimes
you almost believe him. He's got Baron Munchausen skinned a mile. He was
telling me one to-day about a rabbit, and I sat watching him, expecting
every minute to see him choke."
"Oh, come off, Mel," laughed "Slim." "You see," he said, turning to the
boys, "the trouble with Mel is that he hasn't imagination enough to
understand anything he hasn't seen himself. Now that story of the
rabbit----"
"Let's hear it, and judge for ourselves," suggested Fred.
"Why, it was like this," said Slim. "It was out in the Western League,
and they were having a close game of ball. It was in the ninth inning,
with two men out and one run needed to win.
"The man at the bat, one of the best sluggers on the team, soaked the
ball good and plenty on a line to centre field. It hit a rabbit, who was
browsing near the centre field fence. Of course it scared him, and he
came streaking in and reached second base just before the batter.
"Down the line went the rabbit toward third, with the batter legging it
right after him. The rabbit touched third and then, frightened at the
crowd in the bleachers just behind third, it turned around and scooted
for the home plate. It crossed the plate with the batter right at its
heels, just as the ball was thrown in. But although the batter touched
the plate just before the ball got there, the umpire called him out."
"I don't see why," interrupted Teddy.
"Of course there was a big kick about it," said Slim smoothly, "but the
decision went, just the same. The umpire said the rabbit paced the
runner and made him run faster than he otherwise would, and so he got to
the plate before the ball."
There was a dead silence, while the boys watched Slim, as though they
expected the fate of Ananias to overtake him.
Fred coughed significantly.
"You see," said Slim mournfully, to Granger, "he doesn't believe it
either. You've poisoned his mind against me. You've taken away my
reputation. Why, if you don't believe it," he went on, in pretended
indignation, "I can take you out there and show you the very grounds
where the thing happened! I can show you the very base that the rabbit
touched! I can show you the bleachers where the crowd sat that
frightened the rabbit! If the rabbit's alive still, perhaps I can show
you the rabbit! If----"
"That'll do," said Melvin solemnly. "The court finds you guilty, and
condemns you to twenty years of truth-telling."
"That's a cruel and unusual punishment," put in Billy Burton, "and the
Constitution forbids that kind."
"I'm only making the punishment fit the crime," answered Melvin. "I'm
ashamed of you, Slim. Now you go way back and sit down, while I
introduce the rest of these infants."
The remaining "infants," so disrespectfully alluded to, were duly made
known to the boys in a similar jovial way. There was Ned Wayland, who
was introduced as the heaviest batter on the baseball team, and Tom
Eldridge, who had kicked the deciding goal in their last game of
football with a rival school.
Finally, there were Lester Lee and Bill Garwood, of whom Melvin had less
to say, because they had just come, and he knew them hardly better than
he did the Rushton boys themselves.
But Fred and Teddy felt from the start that there was something in these
newcomers that attracted them strongly.
Bill Garwood, they found, was a quiet, reserved youth, who gave one the
impression of latent force. His eyes that looked straight into theirs
were clear and frank, and there were the tiny wrinkles beneath them that
come from looking off into far spaces. On the ranch at Snake River from
which he came, he had lived far from neighbors, and he seemed a little
shy and awkward amid the abounding life at the Hall. But, underneath his
quiet exterior, one felt that he had sterling qualities and in case of
trouble would be a good friend to have at one's back.
Lester Lee impressed them with equal favor. He was tall and lean, and
his face was as bronzed as a sailor's. This did not surprise the boys
when they learned that he had lived in the lighthouse at Bartanet Shoals
on the coast of Maine. He was jolly and full of fun, and had a magnetic
way with him that put him on cordial terms with the boys at once.
When at last they were undressing, seated on their adjoining beds, Fred
turned to Teddy, who had just given a low chuckle.
"What's the joke?" he asked.
"I was thinking that the joke was on Uncle Aaron," replied Teddy.
"How's that?"
"Why, he thought he was punishing us by having us sent here," answered
Teddy, "and I'll just bet that we're going to have the best time of our
lives."
"Provided we don't have a run in with Andy Shanks," suggested Fred,
yawning.
"Yes," said Teddy thoughtfully, "we've got to look out for that fellow."
"I don't think he knows we're here yet," continued Fred. "He didn't seem
to see us when he spoke to Granger this afternoon."
"He'll find it out soon enough," remarked Teddy, "and when he does, look
out for squalls."
And the squalls were not long in coming.