THE BATTLE BETWEEN OLD RIVALS
"Hey! What's all this mean?" shouted Bristles, as he dodged another
shower of smartly-thrown missiles that came from a point close at hand.
There was hardly any use asking, because all of the lads had by then
discovered the flitting forms of half a dozen boys about their own age,
who must have piled up plenty of ammunition, to judge from the reckless
way in which they were hurling snowballs in the direction of Fred and his
chums.
"The Mechanicsburg crowd, that's who it is!" snapped Colon, who, being so
much taller than the others, had a better chance to see over the tops of
the bushes.
"They're in for a snowball fight, fellows!" exclaimed Brad Morton, who
was the captain of the football team, as well as track manager in all
athletic meets.
"Give 'em Hail Columbia, fellows! Riverport High to the fore! Now,
altogether, and send 'em in as hot as you can make 'em!"
That was Dave Hanshaw whooping it up. Dave had always been known as the
heavy batter when he was feeling right, and many a time had he knocked
out a home run, to the wild delight of the Riverport rooters.
The scene immediately took on a lively air. Fred and his five chums were
feeling in just the right trim for a warm scrimmage with their
Mechanicsburg rivals, who had always managed to give them a hard task
before confessing to defeat, and were said to be breathing all manner of
threats with regard to evening up the score at the very next available
opportunity.
It seemed as though there were about the same number of lads on the other
side, and they had one advantage in the fact that, knowing of the
presence of the Riverport fellows, they had secretly prepared an enormous
number of fine round balls, so firmly pressed as to be almost as hard as
stones.
Preparation is all very good, but there is something that, as a rule,
proves even better. This is organization and leadership, backed up by
pluck; and here the Riverside boys were in a class by themselves.
Somehow, when an emergency like this suddenly arose, they were accustomed
to looking to Fred Fenton as leader. It may have been because Nature had
fashioned him in such a way that others readily believed in his ability
to win; past experiences had considerable to do with it, and they had
known him to carry off the honors for the home school on many a hotly
contested field.
For a short time the air was filled with flying snowballs, most of which
were fruitlessly thrown, though the better marksmen managed to now and
then get in a telling hit, that gave them more or less satisfaction.
Fred soon saw, however, that this sort of play would lead to nothing.
One side or the other might become exhausted, and call a truce; but there
would be little satisfaction in such a tame victory. What he wanted was
an exhibition of strategy, by means of which the enemy would be fairly
routed.
"Brad, take Colon and Dave, and work off to the right, while the rest of
us turn their other flank!" he explained to the track captain, as they
dodged a new flurry of deftly thrown missiles.
"That's the ticket, and we're on to the game, Fred!" came the immediate
response, showing how ready the others were to follow up any scheme which
Fred proposed.
"Lay in a stock of ammunition first of all," cautioned Fred; "and when I
sing out, make your start. We'll round up that lively bunch in a hurry,
mark me."
His confidence filled his mates with enthusiasm, as it always did. A
belief in one's self goes a great way toward winning the battle, no
matter how the odds may seem to stand against success.
There was a hasty making of half a dozen balls apiece, all they could
conveniently carry, and when Fred had managed to supply himself with that
many rounds, he gave Brad the order to advance.
With new shouts that were intended to strike alarm to the hearts of the
Mechanicsburg boys, the two detachments now pushed along, making
something of a swinging movement, with the idea of turning the flanks of
the enemy.
Of course the other fellows understood just what was up, and could also
divide their force, so as to meet the conditions; but when they found
themselves between two fires, with hard snowballs striking them in the
back, their valor began to give way to uneasiness, that was apt soon to
merge into a regular panic.
That was what Fred called strategy. It was of a different kind from that
of the great Napoleon, who used to plan to divide his enemy's army, and
then strike quickly at first one-half, and then the other, before they
could unite again.
In this case the main idea Fred had in mind was to be able to pour in
showers of missiles from two opposite quarters. In this way, while his
own men would be scattered, and could dodge any shot that seemed likely
to cause trouble, the enemy remained bunched, and presented a splendid
target.
The thing that was likely to tell most of all was the fact that even
though a snowball happened to miss the boy at whom it had been aimed,
there was always a good chance of its finding a mark in the back of
another fellow, who, being struck so unexpectedly, must cringe, and feel
like running away.
Loud rang out the cries of the rival fighters, and all the while the
attacking force kept working closer and closer to the group of almost
exhausted fellows from up-river way.
"Soak it to 'em!" pealed Bristles, who was surely in his element, as he
dearly loved action of any sort; "three hits for every one we've taken,
and then some. Put your muscle into every throw, fellows! Rap 'em hard.
They started it, and we'll do the winding up, and make the peace terms.
It's a surrender, or run away. Now, all together again!"
By this time the Mechanicsburg boys had had quite enough. Every one of
them was nursing some wound. One had indeed even started off through the
woods, holding a hand to his eye, as though he had failed to dodge a
throw quickly enough; several others were hugging the tree-trunks
closely, and showing that they had had about all the snowball fight they
wanted.
There was one heavy-set but athletic looking chap who appeared to be the
ringleader of the assailants. His name was Felix Wagner, and in times
gone by he had given the Riverport boys many a hard tussle to subdue him;
though he had a reputation for square dealing second to none.
Seeing that his side had given up the fight, since he was the only one
still hurling missiles, at the advancing enemy, Felix knew it was folly
to try to keep it up any longer.
"Hi! hold your horses, you Riverside tigers!" he called, laughingly, as
well as his almost exhausted condition allowed; "guess we've had about
all we want of this sort of thing for once. My cheek stings like fun,
and I think I'll have something of a black eye to-morrow. I only hope I
gave as good as I took, that's all."
"Do you own up beaten, then, Wagner?" demanded the pugnacious Bristles,
"because we're still as fresh as daisies, and bound to put it over on
you, now that you've started the fight?"
"Oh sure! With such a crippled army, what else can a fellow do?" replied
the leader of the other crowd. "We throw up the sponge, and wave the
white rag. You're too much for us, that's what. I reckoned it'd be that
way when I saw Fred Fenton was along. He put you up to that game of
dividing your forces, and getting us under a cross-fire, I'll be bound.
And that rattled us more'n anything else you did; for when you get a
crack on the back of the head, it sort of knocks your calculations silly,
and you can't pay attention to what you're doing. We surrender, all
right."
Besides Wagner there were some of the other baseball stars in the
defeated set---Dolan, who guarded the middle garden, Sherley whose domain
was away off in right, Boggs, the energetic shortstop, Hennessy the
catcher, who had taunted Fred and his chums So persistently whenever they
came to bat, in hopes of making them nervous, and Gould the agile second
baseman.
A number were rubbing their heads, or their faces, where red marks told
of a "strike," and while one here and there grumbled, wanting to know if
the Riverport boys put stones in their snowballs, the majority took their
punishment in good part.
"It was a lively scrimmage while it lasted, let me tell you," Fred
remarked, as he rubbed his icy hands together in order to induce
circulation.
"As fierce as any I've been in this year," admitted the big Hennessy,
whose favorite feat of throwing out runners at second had gained him a
great name, and who must have been responsible for a number of hits which
the Riverport boys had suffered during the "late unpleasantness."
"Getting to be an old story to have you Riverport fellows crow over us,"
grumbled Boggs, who had been the one to walk away while the battle was
still on; he had his handkerchief crushed in his hand, having wet it with
melted snow, and in this fashion was trying to relieve the smarting, as
well as prevent his eye from becoming discolored---something the average
boy dislikes more than almost any other punishment that can be imagined.
"Is there anything that we can beat you in?" demanded Sherley, frowning;
"because I'd give something to know it. We've tried our level best, and
for two years now only picked up a few crumbs of comfort, while the
feast's been spread for Riverport. And yet Mechanicsburg has just as
good athletes as you can boast. We manage to win now and then, sometimes
by sheer hard work, and again by a fluke. But they seem to be only the
minor events; all the big plums go to your crowd."
"That's Fred's diplomacy, Sherley, don't you understand?" said Bristles,
with one of his wide grins. "He looks out for it that we get our best
licks in the things that count. We've got a billiard and pool table at
our house, and when we play pool don't we go after all the big balls
first? what's the use knocking the One in a pocket, except it's your only
shot, and gives you a chance to get at larger game?"
Felix Wagner looked at the speaker, and gave a low whistle.
"Shucks! I believe that's what's been the trouble all along," he went on
to say, presently, as though he had been awakened from a sound sleep;
"and to think none of us got on to that racket before. Sure, we've been
chasing after the Number One ball just as hard as we have after the
Fifteen. All looked alike to us. Much obliged for giving me the tip,
Bristles; we'll see if we can't do better next time. And if all the talk
about having a regular Marathon race this Spring turns out right, that's
where Riverport is going to run up against her Waterloo!"
"Glad to hear you talk so smartly, Wagner," said Fred, cheerfully, for
such methods never had the slightest weight with him, or affected his own
confidence. "If you go at things that way, there's a chance we'll have a
glorious run, in case that Marathon race does come off. All of us are
pulling the hardest we know how to get it fixed up; and we hope you
fellows and Paulding will put in your oars. It will be a great event, if
we can spring it this season."
"Chances look pretty bright up our way," said Wagner, as he and his
friends prepared to start toward their home town; "and after the tip
Bristles was so good as to hand us, I wouldn't be surprised if
Mechanicsburg managed to show you down-river fellows her dust, this time
for keeps. So-long, everybody!"
"Good talk, Wagner; may the best man win, we all say!" called out
generous Bristles.