CHAPTER XX
A RATTLING BOUT
Just then the officer of the day approached. Rabig slunk away from thewindow while Frank resumed his pacing, and the episode ended then andthere.
At the end of three days Rabig's term expired and he was sent backagain to his place in the ranks, somewhat subdued in manner thoughreally unchastened in spirit.
His hatred of Frank was unabated and in fact seemed to have taken onextra bitterness since the sharp exchange at the guard-house. Heseldom passed Frank without a sneer on his lip or an ugly gleam in hiseye, which betrayed the smoldering fires within.
Frank, on his part, bore no rancor. His nature was too open andhealthy to nurse a grudge, and although he avoided speaking to Rabig,he seldom thought of him except when the exigencies of military dutythrew them together.
"You're as popular as the smallpox with that gink," said Billy one day,after Rabig had passed them with his usual malignant stare at Frank.
"You want to keep your eyes open, Frank," added Tom, who, knowing Rabigbetter than Billy, distrusted him profoundly. "He's got something uphis sleeve."
"I don't think it would be safe to be alongside him in the trenches,"put in Bart. "Especially on a dark night. It's an easy thing there toslip a bullet into a man you don't like, and charge it up against theGermans."
"Oh, shucks!" laughed Frank, "Rabig's pretty bad but he isn't as bad asthat."
Several weeks went by, weeks of strain and hard work that were rapidlyconverting the new army into a first-class fighting machine.
But "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," and the officers sawto it that there was plenty of entertainment for the men when the hardday's work was over.
There were improvised vaudeville entertainments and, as there were manyactors in the ranks, including some whose names were famous, theperformances were really good.
Then too, there were boxing matches, which were perhaps the mostpopular of all. The boys themselves took part in these and there was agood deal of rivalry, all of it good-natured, among the representativesof the various companies and regiments in camp.
The Government had been quick to recognize the value of boxing, notonly as a physical exercise, but because it aided vastly in the bayonetdrill.
The two contests closely resembled each other and excellence in onemeant excellence in both. There was the same sparring for advantage,feinting, alternate advance and retreat, evading and covering up,attacking and defending.
And because of this, every camp had its official boxing instructor andthe sport formed part of the regular drill.
Great care was taken to avoid any brutal element. The rounds werelimited to two minutes each and the men were cautioned against lettinggo with all their weight.
It was a matter of points secured by skill, and it was closely akin toa fencing bout with buttons on the foils to avoid any serious injury.
Frank had always had a fondness for the sport even before he joined thearmy. He and Bart had often put on the gloves in a friendly bout atthe Camport gymnasium. He was as quick as a cat on his feet, a goodjudge of distance, and unerring in picking out the weak points of hisopponent's offense.
Under the skillful training that he received from McGrath, who was awell-known amateur boxer and had been put in charge of the athleticsports of the camp where the boys were stationed, he had madesurprising progress and was admitted to be easily the best soldier withthe gloves in his own special battalion.
One night a boxing programme had been staged for Frank's regiment and aseries of interesting bouts was looked for.
"Are you going on to-night, Frank?" asked Bart.
"Yes," Frank replied. "And I feel in dandy shape. I never felt morefull of pep than I do just now."
"Who's McGrath going to put against you?" asked Tom.
"I'm slated to meet Thompson, of company F," replied Frank.
"And he's a crackajack, too," put in Billy. "He cleaned up the champsof all the other companies when the old Thirty-seventh was down on theMexican border. You've got your work cut out for you, Frank."
And Billy's prediction was verified, for on that night Frank found thatThompson was an opponent to be reckoned with. It was a slashing,four-round bout with the scales hanging even most of the time, but inthe closing round Frank had a shade the better of it and was announcedthe victor.
Amid tumultuous handclapping of company B, whose champion he was, Frankwaved his hand smilingly and was about to go off the platform whenCorporal Wilson, who was acting as master of ceremonies, stopped himwith a gesture.
"Pretty well winded, Sheldon?" he asked.
"Not a bit," laughed Frank. "I'm as fresh as a daisy. Like John PaulJones, I've just begun to fight."
"That's good," smiled Wilson, "because I'm short a match. One of thepair who were to come on after you and Thompson is rather under theweather and the doctor won't let him take part, though he's game as afighting cock and wants to go on anyway. If you felt in shape for it Ithought perhaps you might help out by taking on some other fellow for afew minutes so that the boys won't be disappointed."
"Sure thing," said Frank. "Bring him along."
"I haven't got anyone picked out, just this minute," said the corporala little perplexedly.
"Send out a call for volunteers," Frank suggested. "It will make itall the more interesting."
"That's the idea," said the corporal. "Any of you fellows want to puton the gloves with Sheldon?" he called out.
There was a momentary hush and then a figure rose from the throng andNick Rabig pushed his way through to the platform.