THE CHUMS OF SCRANTON HIGH
At Ice Hockey
BY
DONALD FERGUSON
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N.Y.
Copyright, MCMXIX
by
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
Printed in the United States of America
by
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND, O.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. GOOD TIMES COMING
II. A BULL IN THE CHINA SHOP
III. GIVING NICK A CHANCE
IV. THE HOCKEY MATCH WITH A SCRATCH SEVEN
V. THAD BRINGS SOME STARTLING NEWS
VI. NOT GUILTY
VII. TURNING A PAGE OF THE PAST
VIII. OWEN DUGDALE'S ANNOUNCEMENT
IX. AN ADVENTURE ON THE ROAD
X. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
XI. A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE
XII. TIP SATISFIES HIS CRAVING--AND LOSES
XIII. THE LIVELY GAME WITH KEYPORT'S SEVEN
XIV. ENCOURAGING NICK
XV. WHERE THE SPARKS FLEW
XVI. AT THE DEACON'S FIRESIDE
XVII. A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY
XVIII. IN A SAFE HARBOR AT LAST
XIX. MEETING BELLEVILLE'S STRONG TEAM
XX. NICK MAKES GOOD--CONCLUSION
THE CHUMS OF SCRANTON HIGH AT ICE HOCKEY
CHAPTER I
GOOD TIMES COMING
Hugh looked at the big thermometer alongside the Juggins' front door
as he came out, and the mercury was still falling steadily.
"It's certainly a whole lot sharper than it was early this morning,
Thad. Feels to me as if the first cold wave of the winter had struck
Scranton."
"The ice on our flooded baseball field, and that out at Hobson's
mill-pond ought to be in great shape after a hard freeze to-night,
Hugh."
"We're in luck this time, chum Thad. Look at that sky, will you?
Never a cloud in sight, and the sun going down yellow. Deacon
Winslow, our reliable old weather prophet blacksmith, who always
keeps a goose-bone hanging up in his smithy, to tell what sort of a
winter we're going to get, says such a sign stands for cold and clear
to-morrow after that kind of a sunset. Red means warmer, you know."
"I only hope it keeps on for forty-eight hours more, that's all I can
say, Hugh. This being Thursday, it would fetch us to Saturday. I
understand they're not meaning to let a single pair of steel runners
on the baseball park, to mark the smooth surface of the new ice,
until Saturday morning."
"Which will be a fine thing for our hockey try-out with the scratch
Seven, eh, Thad?"
"We want to test our team play before going up against the boys of
Keyport High, that's a fact; and Scranton can put up a hard fighting
bunch of irregulars. There are some mighty clever hockey players in
and out of the high school, who are not on our Seven. I guess there
ought to be a pretty lively game on Saturday; and there will be if
several fellows I could mention line up against us."
The two boys who had just left the home of a schoolmate named Horatio
Juggins were great friends. Although Hugh Morgan had seemed to jump
into popular leadership among the boys of Scranton, soon after his
folks came to reside in the town, he and Thad Stevens had become
almost inseparables.
Indeed, some of the fellows often regarded them as "Damon and
Pythias," or on occasions it might be "David and Jonathan." Both
were of an athletic turn, and took prominent parts in all baseball
games, and other strenuous outdoor sports indulged in by the boys of
Scranton High; a record of which will be found in the several
preceding books of this series, to which the new reader is referred,
if he feels any curiosity concerning the earlier doings of this
lively bunch.
Hugh was cool and calm in times when his chum would show visible
signs of great excitement. He had drilled himself to control his
temper under provocation, until he felt master of himself.
It was the 10th of January, and thus far the opportunities for
skating that had come to the young people of that section of country
where Scranton was located, had been almost nil; which would account
for the enthusiasm of the lads when Thad announced how rapidly the
thermometer was giving promise of a severe cold spell.
Scranton had two keen rivals for athletic honors. Allandale and
Belleville High fellows had given them a hard run of it before they
carried off the championship pennant of the county in baseball the
preceding summer.
Then, in the late fall, there had been a wonderfully successful
athletic tournament, inaugurated to celebrate the enclosing of the
grounds outside Scranton with a high board-fence, and the building of
a splendid grandstand, as well as rooms where the athletic
participants in sports might dress in comfort.
With the coming of winter the big field thus enclosed had been
properly flooded, so that it might afford a vast amount of healthy
recreation to all Scranton boys and girls who loved to skate.
Hitherto they had been compelled to trudge all the way out to
Hobson's mill-pond, and back, which was a long enough journey to keep
many from ever thinking of indulging in what is, perhaps, the most
cherished winter sport among youthful Americans.
The two friends had been asked around by the Juggins boy to inspect a
wonderful assortment of treasure trove that an old and peculiar
uncle, with a fad for collecting curios of every description, and who
was at present out in India, had sent to his young nephew and
namesake.
These consisted of scores of most interesting objects, besides
several thousand rare postage stamps. Taken in all it was the
greatest collection of stamps any of them had ever heard of. And the
other things proved of such absorbing interest that Hugh and Thad had
lingered until the afternoon was done, with supper not so far away
but that they must hurry home.
Thad, apparently, had something on his mind which he wished to get
rid of, judging from the way in which he several times looked queerly
at his chum. Finally, as if determined to speak up, he started, half
apologetically:
"Hugh, excuse me if I'm butting in where I have no business," he
said; "but when I saw you talking so long with that town bully, Nick
Lang, this afternoon, after we got out of school, I didn't know what
to think. Was he threatening you about anything, Hugh? After that
fine dressing-down you gave Nick last summer, when he forced you to
fight him while we were out at that barn dance, I notice he keeps
fairly mum when you're around."
Hugh chuckled, as though the recollection might not be wholly
displeasing; though, truth to tell, that was the only fight he had
been in since coming to Scranton. Even it would not have taken place
only that he could not stand by and see the big bully thrash most
cruelly a weaker boy than himself.
"Oh! no, you're away off in your guess, Thad," he replied
immediately. "Fact is, instead of threats, Nick was asking a favor
of me, for once in his life."
"You don't say!" ejaculated Thad. "Well, now you've got me excited
there's nothing left but to tell me what sort of a favor Nick would
want of you, Hugh."
"It seems that for a long time he's been admiring those old hockey
skates of mine," continued the other. "In fact, they've grown on
Nick so that he even condescended to ask me to _sell_ them to him for
a dollar, which he said he'd earned by doing odd jobs, just in order
to buy my old skates. He chanced to hear me say once that my mother
had promised to get me the best silver-plated hockey skates on the
market, for my next birthday, which is now only a few days off.
That's all there was to it, Thad."
"Well," commented Thad, "we all know that Nick is a boss skater, even
on the old runners he sports, and which mebbe his dad used before
him, they're that ancient. He can hold his own with the next one
whenever there's any ice worth using. And as to hockey, why, if Nick
would only play fair, which he never will, it seems because his
nature must be warped and crooked, he could have a leading place on
our Seven. As it is, the boys refused to stand for him in any game,
and so he had to herd with the scratch players. Even then Mr.
Leonard, our efficient coach and trainer, has to call him down good
and hard for cheating, or playing off-side purposely. It's anything
to win, with Nick."
"You're painting Nick pretty true to life, Thad," agreed Hugh;
"though I'm sorry it's so, I've got a hunch that chap, if he only
could be reconstructed in some way or other, might be a shining mark
in many of our athletic games."
"Oh! that's hopeless, Hugh, I tell you. The leopard can't change its
spots; and Nick Lang was born to be just the tricky bully he's always
shown himself."
Hugh shook his head, as though not quite agreeing with his chum.
"Time alone will tell, Thad. There might come a sudden revolution in
Nick's way of seeing things. I've heard of boys who were said to be
the worst in the town taking a turn, and forging up to the head.
It's improbable, I admit, but not impossible."
"Oh! he's bad all the way through, believe me, Hugh. But did you
sell the skates, as he wanted you to do?"
"No, I told him I didn't care to," Hugh replied. "I was tempted to
agree when he looked so bitterly disappointed; then an ugly scowl
came over his face, and he broke away and left me; so that
opportunity was lost. Besides, it's best not to be too sure I'm
going to get those silver-plated skates after all, though Mom is
looking pretty mysterious these days; and some sort of package came
to her by express from New York the other day. She hurried it away
before I could even see the name printed on the wrapper."
"Perhaps," said Thad a bit wistfully, "you might bequeath me your old
skates in case you do get new ones. Mine are not half as good for
hockey. I don't blame Nick for envying you their possession; but
then it hasn't been so much what you had on your feet that has made
you the swift hockey player you are, but coolness of judgment,
ability to anticipate the moves of the enemy, and a clever stroke
that can send the puck skimming over the ice like fury."
"Here, that'll do for you, Thad. No bouquets needed, thank you, all
the same. According to my notion there are several fellows in
Scranton my equals at hockey, and perhaps my superiors. Nick Lang,
for instance, if only he had skates he could depend on, and which
wouldn't threaten to trip him up in the midst of an exciting
scrimmage."
"But, see here, Hugh, you were speaking just now about a chap built
like Nick turning over a new leaf, and making himself respected in
the community in spite of the bad name he's always had. Honestly
now, do you really believe that's possible? Is there such a thing as
the regeneration of a boy who's been born bad, and always taken
delight in doing every sort of mean thing on the calendar? I can't
believe it."
Hugh Morgan turned and gave his chum a serious look.
"I've got a good mind to tell you something that's been on my mind
lately," he said.