JIMMY TAKES CHARGE
Dud’s first impulse was to turn back, but one of Star’s audience had
seen him already, and so, after a moment of hesitation, he went on and,
since Star had his back toward the door, reached his locker before the
speaker saw him. Then there was an instant’s silence. Dud pulled open
the locker door, took his towel out and dropped it on the bench. Then:
“Got canned, did you?” asked Star. “Maybe you’ll learn after a while
that you can’t do that sort of thing and get away with it.”
“I didn’t mean to hit you, Meyer, honestly,” returned Dud. “I――I’m
awfully sorry. There was a pebble or something――――”
“Oh, forget your pebbles! You know very well you meant to hit me.
You’ve been doing a lot of talking around school lately. I’ve heard it.
And I’d have given you a mighty good spanking if you’d been big enough
to notice.” Star had walked around the end of the bench and now faced
Dud like an outraged Jove from a yard away. Dud tried hard to appear
undisturbed, but the mere publicity was enough to send the blood into
his cheeks and put a tremor in his voice as he answered.
“I haven’t been talking about you, Meyer,” he said as stoutly as he
could. “And, anyhow, you needn’t try to bully me. I’ve apologized for
that――that accident, and that’s all I can do.”
“Oh, you apologize, do you?” Star laughed amusedly. “Well, apologies
don’t answer, kid. If you weren’t so small I’d kick you around the
room, you――you ugly-faced little insect!”
“Never mind my size!” cried Dud, throwing discretion to the winds in
the sudden flare of anger. “And never mind about my looks, either! Any
time you want to start kicking you go ahead, Meyer! I’m not afraid of
you! You’re a bluff, a big bluff, that’s all you――――”
Star’s right hand shot out suddenly and the open palm landed hard on
Dud’s cheek. The blow sent him sprawling across the bench, but he was
on his feet again in an instant, his face white save where the impact
of Star’s hand had left a tingling red stain. Star, smiling crookedly,
had stepped back, ready for Dud’s rush. But the rush wasn’t made, for
at that instant “Davy” Richards’ voice came sternly from the doorway.
“Here, boys! Stop that! Look you, Meyer, leave him alone! What mean you
hitting a boy beneath your size, eh?” Davy was Welsh and when excited
relapsed into a brogue as broad as it was difficult of reproduction in
type. Star looked around, shrugged his shoulders and laughed lightly.
“I wasn’t hitting him, Davy. I merely slapped his face for him. If I
ever really hit him he’d know it!”
“Well, no more of it in this house! ’Tis no place for fighting. And you
there, you, Baker, behave yourself, do you hear me? No more now or I’ll
take a hand myself!” Davy retired grumbling, and one of the audience
of three chuckled as he got up and sauntered out. The others exchanged
glances of amusement and went on with their dressing. Star nonchalantly
retired to his own bench, leaving Dud standing with clenched fists and
angry face in the middle of the floor, for once unconscious of the
curious gazes of others.
“It isn’t finished yet, Meyer,” he said at last in a low voice.
Star glanced up contemptuously. “You’ll be finished if you try any more
funny stunts with me, Baker,” he said threateningly. “And I want you to
stop talking about me, too. Hear that? The next time I’ll do a lot more
than slap your ugly face for you!”
“You’ll fight me!”
“I wouldn’t bother to!” Star laughed. “I might break you in two if I
hit you!”
“You’ll fight me,” reiterated Dud doggedly. “If you won’t――――”
He stopped, for Davy was glowering at him from the doorway.
“Look you, Baker, what I say I mean! One more word about fighting while
you’re in this place and out you go!”
Dud subsided and silence reigned until the door opened to admit a
number of released second team candidates, by which time Dud was ready
for his shower. When he returned to the lockers Star had gone. By that
time the room was crowded from end to end, for practice was over and
some forty-odd boys were struggling for space. Jimmy spied his chum and
pushed his way to him.
“Oh, Dud, it was fine!” he whispered delightedly. “Only why didn’t you
put it a foot or so higher and ‘bean’ him? Did you see him again?”
Dud nodded.
“Was he mad?” demanded Jimmy eagerly. “Hello, what are you looking so
funny about? You didn’t――I say, Dud, you two didn’t――――” He paused
expressively.
“We had words,” replied Dud in low tones, “and he――slapped my face.”
“Slapped――――” Jimmy whistled. Then: “Great stuff, Dud! What did you
do? Where were you? I wish I’d seen it!”
“I didn’t do anything. Davy butted in. I’m going to fight him, though.”
“Of course! Slapped your face, eh, the big bully? That――that’s a
fighting matter, Dud. When are you going to do it?”
“He refused; said he wouldn’t bother with me; said he might break me in
two! But he’s got to fight, Jimmy!”
“You bet he has!” agreed Jimmy enthusiastically. “But listen: let me
get my shower. You wait for me, will you? We’ve got to talk this over,
you know.”
“There isn’t anything to talk over,” said Dud flatly. “He’s got to
fight me.”
“Yes, but if he says he won’t―――― You wait for me, see? I won’t be a
minute.” And Jimmy, beaming broadly, dashed off.
Dud found a corner by the door and waited, listening idly to the
chatter of the fellows. Nearby Foster Tray, struggling with a stubborn
shirt, remarked in smothered tones:
“Did you see Baker peg Star in the arm, Mil? It was a fierce old biff!”
“Yes,” replied Oscar Milford, “and Star was hopping mad.” He chuckled.
“Said Baker did it on purpose. Well, maybe he did. I don’t know. But
they say Baker’s got Star scared of him, for some reason.”
“Oh, piffle! A kid like that? Not likely! But it isn’t sense getting
mad about being hit with a ball. Gee, if I got peeved every time I got
whacked last year――――”
A good-natured altercation over the possession of a bath towel that
both Leddy and Parker laid claim to drowned the rest of Tray’s remark
and Dud slipped further along. Captain Murtha ran across him a moment
later and stopped an instant.
“Say, Baker, you did mighty well there for a while today. Keep it up,
old man. But don’t lay out any more of the team, eh? You might leave us
short-handed!” Guy laughed, nodded and went on, and presently, showing
numerous evidences of having dressed hurriedly, Jimmy arrived a bit
breathless and dragged Dud outside. There, one arm through Dud’s, he
led the way back to the dormitory.
“Now,” he demanded eagerly, “let’s have the whole story.”
“Well, I stepped on a pebble or something and the ball got away and hit
Star on the shoulder.”
“Yes,” chuckled Jimmy, “I saw that. Something ought to be done about
those pebbles!” And he winked meaningly.
“But it was a pebble!” declared Dud. “I didn’t mean to hit him!”
“You didn’t!” Jimmy was incredulous, incredulous and disappointed.
“Gee, I thought of course you did it so he’d get mad and fight! Are you
sure?”
“Yes, I am,” answered Dud shortly. “Don’t be a fool, Jimmy.”
“Oh, all right, then. It was an accident.” Jimmy sighed. “Then what?”
Dud brought the narrative to its conclusion by the time they were
crossing the campus, and Jimmy disengaged his arm in order to slap Dud
approvingly on the back. “Fine!” he declared. “Just what we wanted! By
the time we put this thing through, Dud, you’ll be the most talked-of
fellow in school!”
“I don’t want to be talked of. I’m sick of all that rot. All I want is
to show Star Meyer that he can’t slap me and――and get away with it!”
“Sure! But it’ll do you a lot of good if you lick him, don’t you see?
Fellows will call you a plucky kid and all that. Oh, there’s nothing to
it, Dud! Here’s where we make good, old son!”
“I’m not likely to lick him,” replied the other quietly. “I dare say he
will beat me to a pulp, but he won’t do it before I’ve got in a few,”
he added grimly.
“That’s all right, too, but it’s going to make a lot bigger hit if you
get the decision,” responded Jimmy. “No, you’d better make up your mind
to lick him, Dud.”
“Make up my mind!” replied the other impatiently as they traveled
together down the corridor. “How’s making up my mind going to help? He
can lick me, and you know it. And I know it. What’s the good of talking
rot like that?”
“How do you know he can?” asked Jimmy eagerly. “I’ll bet you anything
Star’s got a yellow streak in him somewhere. And you’ve been learning
right along, haven’t you? Why, say, I call you a mighty clever boxer
right this minute, Dud! Yes, I do, honest! And――I say, what time is it?
Fine! We’ve just got time to put on the gloves for a few minutes. I was
reading in that book――――”
“I’m not going to put on the gloves,” answered Dud decidedly. “I’ll
fight him just as I am. All that scientific stuff isn’t much good,
anyway. It didn’t keep him from almost knocking me flat on the floor
this afternoon, did it?”
“But you weren’t looking for it! If you’d known――――”
“Besides, the thing is to get him to fight. He says he won’t. How can I
make him, Jimmy?”
“We-ell――――” Jimmy studied the question with his head on one side and
his mouth pursed. At last: “There are two or three ways, I guess. You
might challenge him publicly or you might just walk up and slap his
face the way he slapped yours or you might――――”
“That’s good enough,” interrupted Dud. “Come on!”
“Hold on! Where are you going?”
“To find him!”
“Well, but――but wait! Hold on! See here, Dud, you can’t walk into a
fellow’s room and biff him, you know!”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because it isn’t done, old chap. Violation of――er――hospitality and all
that, you know. What you want to do is to find him some time when other
fellows are around, see? Then he can’t possibly refuse. But you want to
make sure that a faculty isn’t looking! Better wait now until morning
and get him in School Hall; in the corridor, say. Yes, that’s the idea.
There’ll be a crowd around, and――――”
“I’d rather do it now,” said Dud. “Maybe――by tomorrow――I might
not――might not want to so much!”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ll keep you up to it, son. Trust me. You
see, Dud, this is a wonderful opportunity and we want to make the
most of it. You wait until the morning and then find Star in the
corridor between recitations. There’s bound to be a crowd there.
Imagine the sensation when you step up to him and let him have
it right on the cheek! Maybe you’d ought to say something, too,
something――er――effective. Let’s see now. Suppose――――”
“Look here, Jimmy, this isn’t any silly pageant! I don’t care whether
anyone’s around or not. All you think about is making a public show of
it! You make me tired!”
“Nothing of the sort,” returned Jimmy indignantly. “All I say is that
if you’re going to do it you ought to do it right! What’s the good of
balling it all up when, by using a little――er――a little headwork, you
can make a great big hit? No, sir, you listen to me. I’m managing you
in this affair, Dud. Just you sit still and leave the whole business to
me.”
“Leave it to you――――” began Dud bitterly.
“Besides, I’ve got a better scheme, old chap! Let’s do it shipshape,
eh? After supper I’ll call on Star and take your challenge to him.
Then, if he says he won’t fight, we’ll go ahead with the public
insult scheme. But that will be giving him a chance to accept like a
gentleman. And, of course, whether he accepts or doesn’t, the thing is
just bound to leak out.” Jimmy grinned. “Those things always do.”
“I wish,” said Dud moodily, “I’d kept my mouth shut and not told you
anything about it. You’re bound to go and hire a brass band and make a
hullabaloo! I dare say”――sarcastically――“you’ll be selling tickets for
the fight!”
“By Jove, that isn’t a bad idea! I don’t mean to sell tickets, but we
might issue invitations or――or something. ‘You are cordially invited to
be present at an informal scrap between Dudley Baker and Starling Meyer
at five-thirty on Friday. R. S. V. P.’”
“I wish you’d quit making a silly joke of it,” complained Dud. “If you
think it’s so terribly funny, why don’t you fight him yourself?”
“I would in a minute if he slapped my face,” replied Jimmy promptly.
“Maybe he will when I take the challenge to him. Gee, I wish he’d try
it! Still, I suppose you’d claim the right to the first scrap. Well,
that’s settled, then. Come on to supper now. Better be sort of careful
what you eat, you know. You want to keep in condition. What do you say
to tomorrow afternoon before supper down at the Beach? We’d be out of
sight there and it would be handy for fellows to get to after practice.
No use staging the affair too far away if we want a good attendance,
eh? Got to consider folks’ comfort some, you know. All ready?”