Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 48277-h.htm or 48277-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/48277/pg48277-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/48277/48277-h.zip)
Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
[Illustration: “HERE THEY BE!”—PAGE 260.]
BEN STONE AT OAKDALE
by
MORGAN SCOTT
Author of
“Boys of Oakdale Academy,” “Rival Pitchers of
Oakdale,” “Oakdale Boys in Camp,” “The
Great Oakdale Mystery,” “The New Boys
at Oakdale,” etc.
[Illustration]
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers New York
Printed in U. S. A.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Ben Stone 5
II. The Pariah 16
III. One Ray of Light 26
IV. A Brave Heart 40
V. One More Chance 49
VI. Into the Shadows 61
VII. A Desperate Encounter 71
VIII. A Rift 83
IX. Proffered Friendship 96
X. Stone’s Story 105
XI. On the Threshold 118
XII. The Skies Brighten 127
XIII. Hayden’s Demand 135
XIV. The Bone of Contention 142
XV. The Fellow Who Wouldn’t Yield 152
XVI. Stone’s Defiance 162
XVII. An Armed Truce 170
XVIII. The Game 179
XIX. Between the Halves 190
XX. One Who Was True 198
XXI. A Surprising Meeting 209
XXII. A Sympathetic Soul 218
XXIII. The Blind Fugitive 228
XXIV. Clouds Gather Again 235
XXV. Flight 247
XXVI. The Arrest 256
XXVII. The Darkest Hour 265
XXVIII. On Trial 280
XXIX. Sleuth’s Clever Work 296
XXX. Clear Skies 309
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BEN STONE AT OAKDALE.
CHAPTER I.
"BEN STONE."
As he was leaving the academy on the afternoon of his third day at
school in Oakdale, Ben Stone was stopped by Roger Eliot, the captain of
the football team. Roger was a big, sturdy chap, singularly grave for a
boy of his years; and he could not be called handsome, save when he
laughed, which was seldom. Laughter always transformed his features
until they became remarkably attractive.
Compared with Ben, however, Roger appeared decidedly comely, for the
new boy was painfully plain and uncouth. He was solid and stocky, with
thick shoulders and rather big limbs, having a freckled face and
reddish hair. He had a somewhat large nose, although this alone would
not have been detrimental to his appearance. It was his square jaw,
firm-shut mouth, and seemingly sullen manner that had prevented any of
the boys of the school from seeking his acquaintance up to this point.
Half of his left ear was gone, as if it had been slashed off with some
sharp instrument.
Since coming to Oakdale Ben had seemed to shun the boys at the school,
seeking to make no acquaintances, and he was somewhat surprised when
the captain of the eleven addressed him. Roger, however, was not long
in making his purpose clear; he took from his pocket and unfolded a
long paper, on which were written many names in two extended columns.
“Your name is Stone, I believe?” he said inquiringly.
“Yes, sir,” answered Ben.
“Well, Stone, as you are one of us, you must be interested in the
success of the football team. All the fellows are, you know. We must
have a coach this year if we expect to beat Wyndham, and a coach costs
money. Everybody is giving something. You see, they have put down
against their names the sums they are willing to give. Give us a lift,
and make it as generous as possible.”
He extended the subscription paper toward the stocky boy, who, however,
made no move to take it.
Several of the boys, some of them in football clothes, for there was to
be practice immediately after school, had paused in a little group a
short distance from the academy steps and were watching to note the
result of Roger’s appeal to the new scholar.
Ben saw them and knew why they were waiting there. A slow flush
overspread his face, and a look of mingled shame and defiance filled
his brownish eyes. Involuntarily he glanced down at his homespun
clothes and thick boots. In every way he was the poorest-dressed boy in
the school.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” he said, in a low tone, without looking up.
“I can’t give anything.”
Roger Eliot showed surprise and disappointment, but he did not
immediately give over the effort.
“Why, of course you’ll give something,” he declared, as if there could
be no doubt on that point. “Every one does. Every one I’ve asked so far
has; if you refuse, you’ll be the first. Of course, if you can’t afford
to give much——”
“I can’t afford to give a cent,” interrupted Ben grimly, almost
repellantly.
Roger slowly refolded the paper, looking the other over closely. He
took note of the fellow’s well-worn clothes and poverty-touched
appearance, and with dawning comprehension he began to understand the
meaning of the flush on Ben’s cheeks. Instead of being offended, he
found himself sorry for the new boy.
“Oh, all right!” he said, in a manner that surprised and relieved
Stone. “You know your own business, and I’m sure you’d like to give
something.”
These words, together with Eliot’s almost friendly way, broke down the
barrier of resentment which had risen unbidden in the heart of the
stocky lad, who suddenly exclaimed:
“Indeed I would! I’m powerful sorry I can’t. Perhaps—by an’ by—if I
find I’m going to get through all right—perhaps I’ll be able to give
something. I will if I can, I promise you that.”
“Well, now, that’s the right stuff,” nodded Roger heartily. “I like
that. Perhaps you can help us out in another way. You’re built for a
good line man, and we may be able to make use of you. All the
candidates are coming out to-day. Do you play?”
“I have—a little,” answered Ben; “but that was some time ago. I don’t
know much about the game, and I don’t believe I’d be any good now. I’m
all out of practice.”
“Never you mind that,” said the captain of the team. “Lots of the
fellows who are coming out for practice have never played at all, and
don’t know anything about it. We need a good lot of material for the
coach to work up and weed out when we get him, so you just come along
over to the field.”
Almost before Ben realized what was happening, Roger had him by the arm
and was marching him off. They joined the others, and Roger introduced
him to “Chipper” Cooper, Sile Crane, Billy Piper, and the rest. He
noticed in particular the three named, as each was characteristic in
his appearance to a distinct degree.
Cooper was a jolly chap, with mischievous eyes and a crooked nose. He
had the habit of propounding ancient conundrums and cracking stale
jokes. Crane was a long, lank, awkward country boy, who spoke
ungrammatically, in a drawling, nasal voice. Piper, who was addressed
as “Sleuth” by his companions, was a washed-out, colorless fellow,
having an affected manner of keenness and sagacity, which were
qualities he did not seem to possess to any great degree.
They passed down the gravel walk to the street, and crossed over to the
gymnasium, which stood on the shore of the lake, close behind the
fenced field that served for both a football and baseball ground.
The gymnasium was a big, one-story frame building, that had once been
used as a bowling alley in the village. The man who built it and
attempted to run it had failed to find business profitable, and in time
it was purchased at a low price by Urian Eliot, Roger’s father, who
moved it to its present location and pledged it to the academy as long
as the scholars should continue to use it as a gymnasium.
Inside this building Ben was introduced to many more boys, a large
number of whom had prepared or were making ready for football practice.
There was Charley Tuttle, called “Chub” for short, a roly-poly,
round-faced, laughing chap, who was munching peanuts; Tim Davis,
nicknamed “Spotty,” even more freckled than Ben, thin-legged,
sly-faced, and minus the two front teeth of his upper jaw; Sam Rollins,
a big, hulking, low-browed fellow, who lost no opportunity to bully
smaller boys, generally known as “Hunk”; Berlin Barker, a cold blond,
rather good-looking, but proud and distant in his bearing; and others
who did not impress the new boy at all with their personalities.
Few of these fellows gave Ben any attention after nodding or speaking
to him when introduced. They were all busily engaged in discussing
football matters and prospects. Stone heard some of this talk in the
big dressing-room, where Eliot took him. The captain of the eleven
opened a locker, from which he drew a lot of football clothing.
“I have my regular suit here, Stone,” he said; “and here are some other
things, a lot of truck from which you can pick out a rig, I think. Take
those pants and that jersey. Here are stockings and shoes. My shoes
ought to fit you; I’m sure the rest of the stuff is all right.”
Ben started to object, but Roger was in earnest and would not listen to
objections. As he was getting into the outfit provided by Eliot, Ben
lent his ear to the conversation of the boys.
“We’ve got to beat Wyndham this year,” said one. “She buried us last
year, and expects to do so again. Why, they have a regular Harvard man
for a coach over there.”
“Beat her!” cried another. “You bet we will! Wait till we get our
coach. I say, captain, how are you making it, gathering the needful?”
“First rate,” answered Roger, who was lacing his sleeveless jacket.
“I’ll raise it all right, if I have to tackle every man, woman and
child in town with that paper.”
“That’s the stuff!” whooped Chipper Cooper. “Being captain of a great
football team, you are naturally a good man to _tackle_ people. Rah!
rah! rah! Cooper!” Then he skipped out of the dressing-room, barely
escaping a shoe that was hurled at him.
“Bern’s home,” said a boy who was fussing over a head harness. “Came on
the forenoon train with his folks. I saw him as I came by. Told him
there’d be practice to-night, and he said he’d be over.”
“He’s a corking half-back,” observed a fellow who wore shin guards. “As
long as we won’t have Roger with us next year, I’ll bet anything Bern
is elected captain of the team.”
“Come on, fellows,” called Eliot, who had finished dressing in
amazingly quick time. “Come on, Stone. We want to do as much as we can
to-night.”
They trooped out of the gymnasium, Ben with them. A pleasant feeling of
comradery and friendliness with these boys was growing upon him. He was
a fellow who yearned for friends, yet, unfortunately, his personality
was such that he failed to win them. He was beginning to imbibe the
spirit of goodfellowship which seemed to prevail among the boys, and he
found it more than agreeable.
Fortune had not dealt kindly with him in the past, and his nature had
been soured by her heavy blows. He had come to Oakdale for the purpose
of getting such an education as it was possible for him to obtain, and
he had also come with the firm determination to keep to himself and
seek no friends; for in the past he had found that such seeking was
worse than useless.
But now circumstances and Roger Eliot had drawn him in with these
fellows, and he longed to be one of them, longed to establish himself
on a friendly footing with them, so that they would laugh and joke with
him, and call him by his first name, and be free and easy with him, as
they were among themselves.
“Why can’t I do it?” he asked himself, as he came out into the mellow
afternoon sunshine. “I can! I will! They know nothing about the past,
and they will never know.”
Never had the world looked more beautiful to him than it did as he
passed, with his schoolmates about him, through the gate and onto the
football field. Never had the sky seemed so blue and the sunshine so
glorious. He drank in the clear, fresh air with his nostrils, and
beneath his feet the springy turf was delightfully soft and yet
pleasantly firm. Before him the door to a new and better life seemed
flung wide and inviting.
There were some boys already on the field, kicking and passing a
football. One of these—tall, handsome, supple and graceful—was hailed
joyously as “Bern.” This chap turned and walked to meet them.
Suddenly Ben Stone stood still in his tracks, his face gone pale in an
instant, for he was face to face with fate and a boy who knew his past.
------------------------------------------------------------------------