AT THE CLUB HOUSE.
Following the last of the races at the athletic grounds it was announced
that the Cresville Club would tender, that night, a reception to all
participants and their friends. There was to be a little entertainment
and refreshments would be served. The prizes would also be awarded.
Bob and his sister Susie were going, Ned would be there and Jerry
Hopkins had promised to take Julia. Besides it was expected that a
number of boys and girls, friends of the three chums, would be present.
When Bob, Ned and Jerry, with the two girls, reached the club house that
evening, they found a big crowd already there.
“Oh, there’s Alice Vines and Helen Gale!” exclaimed Susie, leaving her
brother and running over to where the girls stood.
“Yes, and there’s Mollie Horton!” exclaimed Julia. “I’m real glad she
came,” and Julia ran from her brother and joined Mollie.
“Well, it looks as if we’d have to paddle our own canoes,” remarked
Jerry, with a laugh. “Deserted the first thing, after the glorious
victories we won, too.”
“Let’s pretend we don’t want to talk to them,” suggested Ned. “That’s
the surest way to bring the girls around,” which holds true of old as
well as young girls, it may be said.
“Come down stairs and I’ll treat you all to ice-cream,” invited Jerry.
The boys were hurrying away, not looking in the direction of the girls,
when there was a flurry of skirts and a miniature cyclone descended
about the lads.
“What’s that I heard about ice-cream?” asked Julia, with a laugh, as she
ran up and grasped her brother by the arm.
“Did you hear anything?” asked Jerry, in an innocent tone.
“Yes, and I happen to have some sort of a vague recollection about a
promise of ice-cream sodas made by some one this afternoon,” went on the
girl, laughing. “Do you boys recall anything about that?”
“I guess the joke is on us, boys,” said Bob. “Come along, girls, you
shall have the ice-cream.”
It was a jolly little party that gathered about the ice-cream tables.
They had almost finished one plate each, when a boy with light hair,
that never seemed to be combed, and blue eyes that twinkled like two
stars and a mouth that always seemed to be open, either while he was
talking or laughing, came up.
[Illustration: IT WAS A JOLLY LITTLE PARTY THAT GATHERED ABOUT THE
ICE-CREAM TABLES.]
“Hello girls! Hello fellows!” he exclaimed rapidly, and talking by
jerks. “Fine night--big crowd--lots of people--have some more cream?”
“Easy, easy,” pleaded Jerry. “You talk like a house afire, Andy Rush.”
“Rush by name--Rush by nature,” spluttered Andy. “Come, what is it?
Ice-cream--candy cake--lemonade--pick the winner!”
“Well, I guess the girls wouldn’t object to some more cream,” spoke Bob.
“As for me, ice-cream sort of palls after one big plate. I’ll have some
lemonade.”
Andy joined the little party, and added to the fun. He never seemed to
stop talking, and he didn’t seem to care whether any one listened.
“Prizes going to be given out,” cried Andy, presently, hurrying up
stairs.
This was a signal for a general breaking up of the little party. As
each of the three chums came in for a prize they had to be near the
platform, where Mr. Wakefield, the athletic instructor of the club,
gave out the trophies.
There was quite a jam of people in the main room of the club, where
seats had been placed to accommodate the assemblage. The boys found it
rather difficult to get near the platform, but finally succeeded.
Bob’s name was the first called. He blushed as he went forward to
receive a fine diamond scarf pin that was the first prize in the amateur
race class.
After several other trophies had been given out came the turn of Jerry
to go forward and get the first prize for the three mile race. It was
announced that the winner of this could have his choice of any article
to the value of three hundred dollars. The money could not be given, as
that would put the winner in the professional class, Mr. Wakefield said.
“We thought of giving a three hundred dollar piano as the first trophy,”
said Mr. Wakefield, “but there is no obligation to take that, as it is
not purchased. Now, Jerry, what would you like?”
“If it can be bought for that amount of money I’ll have a motor-cycle,”
replied Jerry after a moment’s thought.
“That’s the stuff!” called Bob in such a loud whisper that it was heard
all over the room, and caused considerable laughter.
“And a motor-cycle you shall have,” said Mr. Wakefield, “the finest that
can be bought. I am glad you took that. It gives me a chance to say that
in the future the club intends having some motor-cycle races. Perhaps
you will compete, Jerry, and if you do I hope you will do your best.”
“Three cheers for Jerry Hopkins!” called some one, and they were given
with a will.
“Your prize is not quite as optional as was Jerry’s,” said Mr.
Wakefield, when Ned came forward in answer to his name. “Still we hope
you will like it. I have picked out this for you,” and he gave the boy
a magazine rifle of the most expensive make, a regular beauty, at the
sight of which Ned’s eyes sparkled with joy.
“Three cheers for Ned Slade!” shouted a voice at the back of the room,
and Ned was cheered until his face grew red with blushes.
It was not long before all the prizes had been given out. Then followed
an entertainment.
“Let’s go back and sit with the girls,” suggested Ned. The three chums
moved down the centre aisle, and found that the young ladies had
anticipated their coming and had saved seats for them.
Mr. Wakefield sought out Jerry and whispered that his motor-cycle would
be ordered at once, and would probably arrive in the course of a couple
of weeks.
“Isn’t it queer,” said Ned. “Do you remember that day how we were
talking about getting motor-cycles?”
“I remember,” replied Jerry. “But I didn’t think I would have one so
soon. I wish you and Bob were going to get them now.”
“I’m going to see if I can’t,” said Ned.
“Same here,” came from the heavy-weight youth.
The party, increased by late comers, was more jolly than before, and
laughter and jokes made the hours pass so pleasantly that when twelve
o’clock boomed out on the chiming time-piece of the club, there was a
chorus of cries from the girls.
“Oh! How late it is!” almost screamed Mollie Horton.
“And mother told me to be sure and be home by eleven,” came from Alice.
“We must start, girls.”
The majority of boys and girls lived in the same neighborhood. They
paired off, as young folks will, when they approach the age of
sentiment, and by two marched down the now quiet streets of Cresville,
singing snatches of songs. It was a bright moon-light night, and the
young people enjoyed every moment of it.
Ned, who had no sister to worry about, had asked permission to take
Alice Vines home. She lived some distance from the others, though
her route was the same as theirs for a little way. When it came time
for Alice and Ned to take another path, they bade their companions
good-night, and started off down the street together. Alice lived about
half a mile from the parting of the ways, and Ned thought the distance
all too short.
“I’ve had a very pleasant time,” said Alice, when she reached her gate.
“Thank you very much for bringing me home.”
“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” said Ned with a gallant bow,
whereat Alice laughed.
Then Ned started home alone. His way lay past the Judson iron mill, a
rather lonesome part of the town, but Ned did not care. Once he wished
he had brought his new rifle along, instead of leaving it at the club
house. Then he laughed to himself at his fears.
After he had passed his father’s store, which was in darkness, he came
to a part of the town where there were no street lamps. However the moon
gave considerable light.
There were mysterious shadows, too, and once Ned thought one took on the
shape of a man sneaking around a corner. He came to a halt, his heart
beating wildly.
“Pshaw! It must have been a cloud,” he declared.
A little later he came nearer the iron mill. It was located on the bank
of a river, and the rushing of the water sounded rather uncanny in the
lonesome night. Once more Ned started as he beheld a shadow glinting
along the street ahead of him.
“That’s no moon-shadow,” argued the boy. “That’s the outline of a man,
if ever there was one. And it looked for all the world like Bill Berry.
Well, I don’t know’s I’m afraid of him, and he certainly isn’t of me.”
He walked on boldly, whistling to keep up his courage, though he would
have disputed that point had any one accused him. Then he came in full
view of the mill. Through the glass door of the office he caught sight
of a light. He gave a sudden start and hurried forward.