THE NEW LEAGUE
Professor Broadkins looked up, as if mildly surprised at the merriment
of the students. He glanced over into the walled city that he had
constructed out of books, and then at Dutch. The sight of that worthy,
with ink dripping from him appeared to solve the mystery.
“Why, er--Housenlager--what happened?” inquired the instructor. “Did
some one----?”
“It was the catapult,” explained Dutch. “I--er----” he choked out.
Then the professor seemed to understand.
“Oh--ink!” he said, innocently. “You used the inkwell.”
“Yes,” assented Dutch. “I--er--put the bottle on the ruler, instead of
the rock. I----”
“I understand,” interrupted the substitute Latin instructor. “It is too
bad. How did you come to make that mistake, Housenlager?”
Once more the class laughed, and the lads were not restrained.
“You had better go to the lavatory, and wash,” went on the instructor.
“And I think you all have, by this time, a better idea of a catapult
than you had before, even though the wrong sort of missile was used. We
will now proceed with the lesson.”
It might fairly be presumed that not as much attention was paid to the
following instruction as was needed, but, at the same time, there was an
excuse. Dutch came back to the class toward the end of the recitation,
with a clean collar and a different necktie, and when the lecture was
over he did not join in the mirth of his fellow students.
“Dutch was in bad that time, all right,” remarked Sid with a laugh, as
the lads strolled out on the campus.
“A regular fountain pen,” commented Tom.
“Want a blotter?” asked Phil, offering a bit of paper.
“Or a pen wiper?” added Frank. “Say, how did you come to make such a
mistake, Dutch?”
“Oh, let up, will you?” begged the badgered one. “It wasn’t any mistake.
I thought he’d get the ink instead of me.”
“And he changed places with you,” interposed Tom. “Well, mistakes will
happen, in the best of regulated classes.”
“Oh say!” began Dutch. Then, despairing of changing the subject, unless
he took drastic measures, he added: “How about coasting again
to-night?”
“Say, I believe it would be sport!” chimed in Tom. “It’s getting warm,
and the snow won’t last much longer. Let’s get up a crowd, and go out on
the hill.”
The idea met with favor at once, and soon plans were being made for a
merry time.
“Telephone over to Fairview, and get your sister and her crowd, Phil,”
suggested Sid.
“Listen to the lady-killer!” jeered Tom.
“Oh, let up,” importuned Sid. “I guess I’ve got as much right as you
fellows.”
“That’s the stuff! Stick up for your rights!” cried Frank.
Though the moon was not as glorious as on the previous evening, the
night was a fine one, and a merry party of young men and maidens
gathered on the hill with big bobs, the gongs of which made clamorous
music, amid the shouts and laughter.
There were several cliques of students, but Tom and his crowd, with
Phil’s sister and the girls who were her chums, clung together and had
many a swift coast. It was when several were thinking of starting for
home that a party of lads, with a fine, big bob appeared on the hill.
“Who wants a ride?” challenged the leader, whom Tom recognized as
Shambler. “Come on, girls,” he went on, addressing Ruth Clinton, with
easy familiarity. “Get on, we’ll give you a good coast.”
“We don’t care to,” said Ruth, turning aside.
“Oh, it’s perfectly safe,” insisted Shambler. “Come on! Be sports. Here,
Gerhart--Langridge, help the girls on!”
“They don’t need any help!” suddenly exclaimed Tom, stepping between
Shambler and Ruth.
“How do you know--are you their manager?” asked the new student with a
sneer.
“No--but I’m her brother,” interposed Phil. “Come on, Ruth, we’ll walk
part way with you.” He linked his arm in hers, Phil and his chums began
dragging their bob away, followed by Madge Tyler, Mabel Harrison and
Helen Newton.
“Humph!” sneered Shambler, audibly. “I guess we got in wrong with that
bunch, fellows.”
“Forget it,” advised Langridge. “There are other girls on the hill, and
it’s early yet.”
And that night, as the four chums tumbled into bed, though they did not
speak of it, each one had an uneasy feeling about Shambler. It was as if
a disrupting spirit had, somehow, crept into Randall.
If further evidence was needed of the pushing, and self-interested
spirit of Shambler the four chums had it supplied to them a little
later, at an informal dance to which they were bidden at Fairview.
Tom and Phil came in from a walk one afternoon, to find Sid and Frank
eagerly waiting for them in the room. No sooner had the two entered,
than Frank burst out with:
“Come on, fellows, open yours, and see if they are the same as ours.”
“Open what?” asked Tom, looking about the room. “You don’t mean to say
some one has sent me a prize package; do you?”
“Or maybe Moses has sent in to say that I don’t need to study any more;
that I’ve done so well that I’m to be excused from all lectures, and
that my diploma is waiting for me,” spoke Phil mockingly. “Don’t tell me
that, fellows; remember I have a weak heart.”
“It’s the invitations!” exclaimed Sid. “At least I think that’s what
they are. We got ’em, and here are two letters--one for you, Tom, and
one for Phil. Come on, open ’em, and we’ll answer, and go together.”
“Go where?” demanded Tom. “Say, what’s this all about, anyhow? What’s
going on?”
“They’re all excited over it,” added Phil. “Like children.”
“Oh! for cats’ sake open ’em, and don’t keep us waiting,” begged Frank,
as he reached for two envelopes that lay on the table. The missives
unmistakably bore evidence of being “party bids,” but Tom kept up the
tantalizing tactics a little longer, by turning his over from side to
side, pretending to scrutinize the postmark, and then ended by gently
smelling of the delicate perfume that emanated from it.
“Smells good enough to eat,” he said, while Phil was tearing his open.
“It’s an invitation all right,” remarked Ruth’s brother. “The girls are
to give a little dance to-morrow night. Shall we go?”
“Well, rather!” exclaimed Sid quickly.
“Listen to him,” mocked Tom. “About a year ago he would no more think of
going where the girls were than he would of taking in a lecture on the
dead Romans. But now. Oh shades of Apollo! You can’t keep him home!”
“Oh, dry up!” exclaimed Sid.
“Humph!” mused Phil. “I suppose we _can_ go.”
“Sure; it’ll be fun,” agreed Frank.
“How about you, Tom?” asked Sid. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”
“Sure. I was only joking,” and then Tom went over to his bureau and
began rummaging among the contents of a certain drawer--contents which
were in all sorts of a hodge-podge.
“By Jove!” cried Tom. “It’s gone!”
“What?” inquired Frank.
“That new tan-colored tie I bought last week. It just matched my vest.
Who took it?” and he faced his chums.
“How dare you?” burst out Phil, with pretended anger. “To accuse us,
when there are so many other guilty ones in Randall! How dare you?”
“Come on, fork it over, whoever took it!” demanded Tom. “Some of you
have it. Caesar’s side-saddles! A fellow can’t have anything decent here
any more! I’m going to have locks put on my bureau!”
“What do you want of that tan-colored tie, anyhow?” asked Sid.
“Oh, so you’re the guilty one!” cried Tom. “I’ll get it,” and he strode
over to his chum’s bureau, where, from a drawer, after a short search,
he pulled the missing tie.
“All crumpled up, too!” he exclaimed, as he looked at it ruefully. “I’ll
fix you for this, Sid.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to muss it so. I just borrowed it to wear the other
night, and we got to skylarking, and----”
“Skylarking with a girl!” cried Frank aghast. “Say, you are going some,
Sid.”
“Oh, I only tried to----”
“Kiss her--I know,” went on Frank relentlessly. “You ought to be given
the ‘silence.’ But in view of the fact that there are mitigating
circumstances, and that you wore another fellow’s tie, we will suspend
sentence. But don’t let it occur again. Now about this glad-rag affair.”
“That’s it,” broke in Phil. “I don’t see why Tom made such a fuss about
that tie. He can’t wear it to the dance, anyhow.”
“Why not? Is it a full-dress affair?” asked the owner of the tan scarf,
as he carefully smoothed it out.
“Sure it is.”
“Oh, then that’s different. I didn’t know.”
“And you bully-ragging me the way you did!” reproached Sid. “Never mind.
I still have some friends left. But I’ll pay for having your little new
tie put in shape again, Tommy my boy. I’ll buy you new inner tubes for
it, and a shoe, and you can have all the gasolene you want to make it
go.”
“Oh, shut up!” retorted Tom, and he began to rummage in his drawer once
more.
“What now?” asked Phil.
“My studs. I suppose some one has pinched them.”
But no one had, and Tom’s sudden energy in looking to see if he had all
things needful for the dance suggested to the others that they might
profitably do the same thing.
The invitations, which had come by special delivery, were put away with
similar ones, and other relics of good times in the past, and then the
boys began talking about the coming affair. Lessons for the next day
were not as well prepared as usual, as might easily be imagined.
And the night of the dance! For the preserving of the reputations of my
heroes in particular, and all young men in general I am not going to
give the details of the “primping” that went on in the rooms of the four
inseparables.
“It is simply disgraceful to see decent, well-behaved and seemingly
intelligent human beings behave so,” Holly Cross remarked as he dropped
in when the four were getting into their “glad rags.” He went on: “I
never would have believed it--never, if I had not seen it with my own
eyes.”
“Get out! You’re mad because you’re not going,” said Tom, as he made up
his white tie for about the fifth time.
“I wouldn’t so lower myself!” shot back Holly, as he went out.
But at last the boys were ready, and, talk about girls taking a long
time to--well, but there, I promised to say nothing about it. Anyhow, at
last they were off.
The dances at Fairview were always enjoyable affairs, and this one was
no exception. The girl friends of our heroes were awaiting them.
“I hope your cards aren’t all filled,” greeted Tom.
“There is _one_ dance left for each of you,” spoke Madge Tyler, but her
laughing eyes stopped the protest that arose to Tom’s lips.
“You don’t mean it!” he burst out, as he took the program from her. Then
a look showed him that there were many vacant spaces which he proceeded
to fill. Madge laughed mischievously.
“Whose name was down here, that you rubbed off?” demanded Tom
suspiciously. Miss Tyler blushed.
“Oh, that’s some of your Randall manners,” she burst out.
“Randall manners! What do you mean?” asked Tom.
“A little while ago,” she explained, “just before you boys came, I was
standing near a pillar. Someone came up behind me, and snatched my
program from my hand. Before I could stop him he had scribbled his name
down. But I rubbed it out.”
“Do you mean a Randall man did that?”
“He did.”
“Who was he?”
“Mr. Shambler.”
“That lout again!” murmured Tom. “I’ll teach him a lesson.”
“No, don’t,” begged Madge. “I told him what I thought of him myself.”
“Good!” exclaimed Tom, and then he detailed the circumstances to his
chums. They agreed that Jake Shambler would have to be taught a severe
lesson if his “freshness” did not subside soon.
Not at all rebuffed by what had happened, however, Shambler asked some
of the other girls in Miss Tyler’s set to dance with him, but they
refused. However he managed to find some partners, including the girl
who had invited him. He greeted our heroes with breezy familiarity, and
they could do no less than bow coldly. But Shambler did not seem to
mind.
The dance went on, and the inseparables had a fine time. Doubtless their
girl friends did also, and it was not until an early hour that the
affair ended.
“And to think that we won’t have another for at least a month!” groaned
Tom, as he and his chums wended their way Randallward.
“And you’re the chap that was making such a fuss about a tan tie,”
murmured Sid. “Look at yours now. There’s nothing left of it.”
“No, nor my collar either,” replied Tom, feeling of his wilted linen,
for he had danced much.
A week, in the early Spring, can work wonders. One day there may be snow
covering everything. Then a few hours of warm sun, a warm South wind,
and it seems as if the buds were just ready to burst forth.
So it was at Randall. The brown grass on the campus began taking on a
little hue of green. There was a spirit of unrest in the air. Lectures
were cut in the most unaccountable way. Several lads were seen out on
the diamond wherefrom the frost was hardly yet drawn. Balls began to be
tossed back and forth.
Down by the river, where, because of the sloping land, it was dryer than
elsewhere a little group of lads were gathered about one of their
number.
“Now for a good one, Grasshopper!” someone cried.
“I’m going to do seventeen or bust a leg!” came the answer.
“What’s going on over there?” asked Tom of his three chums, who were
strolling about.
“Pete Backus is doing his annual Spring hop,” said Phil.
“Let’s go watch him,” suggested Sid.
“He’s getting in training for the games,” declared Frank. “I think I’ll
enter myself if they hold ’em.”
“Well, there’s been a lot of talk lately,” put in Tom. “Exter Academy is
hot for ’em, and I understand Boxer Hall and Fairview would come in
with us, on a quadruple league for the all-around championship. But
let’s look at Backus.”
“How much?” cried the long-legged lad as he made his jump. “Did I beat
my record?”
“Sixteen-nine,” announced a lad with a measuring tape.
“I’ll make it seventeen!” declared Grasshopper. “Oh, hello, Tom!” he
cried. “Say, are you going in for it?”
“For what?”
“The games--new league--didn’t you hear about it?”
“No!” cried the quartette in a chorus.
“Oh, it’s going to be great,” went on the lad who imagined he was a
jumper. “I’m going in for the running broad, and maybe the high. I’m
practicing now.”
“Say, tell us about it,” begged Phil.
“Oh, there’s nothing settled,” interposed Jerry Jackson. “Some of the
fellows are talking of getting up a league for all-around athletics, and
I think it would be a good thing.”
“Is it only talk so far?” asked Tom.
“That’s all,” replied Joe Jackson, the other Jersey twin. “But there is
going to be a preliminary meeting in a few nights, and then it will be
decided. Are you fellows in for it?”
“We sure are!” cried the four friends.
The idea spread rapidly, and a few nights later there was a preliminary
meeting in the Randall gymnasium concerning the new league.
Representatives were present from Fairview, Boxer Hall and Exter, and
one and all declared themselves in favor of something to open the season
before the baseball schedule had the call.
“What will you go in for, Tom?” asked Sid, as the four inseparables were
in their room after the committee session.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I won’t do much. I’m going to save myself for
the diamond. There’s enough others to uphold the honor of Randall. There
are Frank, and Phil and you.”
“But we want a good representation. How about the mile run for you?”
“Nothing doing. Frank, you ought to go in for the hammer throw, the shot
put, and for the weight throwing.”
“Maybe I will. I understand there are some good lads at those sports at
Boxer and Fairview.”
“Yes, and some here.”
“Shambler’s going to enter, I hear,” added Phil.
“What for?” queried Sid.
“The mile run, and some jumping.”
“Well, he looks good, though I don’t exactly cotton to him. Say, things
will be lively here soon,” commented Frank. “I guess I’ll begin
training.”
“Better come in, Tom,” advised Sid.
“No, I’ll wait a while.”
“It isn’t about that trouble at home; is it?” asked Sid in a low voice.
“Well, in a way, yes,” admitted Tom. “You see I don’t know when I may
have to leave here, and it wouldn’t be just right to enter for a contest
and then have to drop out.”
“Do you think it would be as bad as that?”
“It might be--there’s no telling.”
“Tom,” said Sid, and his voice took on a new tone. “I think you ought to
enter, and practice up to the last minute. If you have to drop out, of
course, that’s a different matter. But I think you ought to do your
best.”
“Why? There are plenty of others. Why should I?”
“Why? For the honor of Randall, of course. You never were a quitter,
and----”
“And I’m not going to begin now,” finished Tom with a smile. “I’ll enter
the games, Sid.”
“I thought you would,” was the quiet answer.