CHAPTER XVI
_In which the Bright-eyed Goddess comes to bat again, and promises to win the game._
A pillow flung by the accurate arm of Will Benton early the followingmorning caught the sleeping visitor on the head.
“Eh, what is it?” cried Clarence, sitting up.
“It’s sunrise, boy. Just look out that window and see how beautiful thenew-born day can be when it wants to.”
“‘Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain top.’”
And as Clarence quoted the well-known lines, he jumped from bed andslipped quickly into his clothes.
“You read Shakespeare?” asked Benton, rubbing his eyes.
“Of course; I’ve been reading him off and on for the last two years.Say, what comes next?”
“We have morning prayers and Mass in a few minutes. Would you like toattend?”
“I certainly would. Dora explained to me a lot about the Mass.”
“Dora?”
“Yes; that was the little girl’s name.”
“Strange!” murmured Benton. “Well, hurry on now. Here’s a prayer-bookwith the parts of the Mass marked out. You may use it, if you wish.”
Clarence was profoundly impressed by what he saw in the chapel. Theboys—full, in ordinary, of mischief and life—were going about theirdevotions in earnest.
Clarence was seated next to John Rieler. That youth, when he was notsinging lustily with the others, had his face buried in his prayer-book.Religion, Clarence perceived, entered intimately into the lives ofnearly all these boys.
He was escorted by Rieler to breakfast, where he inspired much respectamong the boys of the particular table at which he sat by hisworkmanlike way of getting through with the dishes served him.
The morning was devoted to shopping. Attended by the BrotherInfirmarian, Clarence went to the city proper of Prairie du Chien, wherein the course of an hour he was provided with a complete outfit of shoesand clothing.
After a hearty dinner, John Rieler brought Clarence out upon the campus.
“Say!” the youngster said, admiringly, “you ought to send this campus oneast. Lots of our colleges would be willing to buy it. It’s one biglevel—acres and acres of it—and all you’ve got to do is to walk out ofyour classroom building, and you’re right on it. At the academy I wentto, we used to go around to a good many other schools in the baseballand the football season; but I must say I never saw a campus anythingnear so good as this, and only one or two as handy.”
“We’re thinking of taking out a patent on it, and we are rather proud ofit. The only thing is that we find it quite hard to live up to such afine campus.”
“Say, this is a funny school,” Clarence remarked. A number of thesmaller boys were now gathered about him. They had heard of histremendous swim down the river and of his escape from the gypsies, andmade little attempt to conceal their admiration. In fact—a very unusualthing—they insisted upon being introduced.
“What’s funny about our school?” inquired one of the boys when Clarencehad shaken hands with each and all.
“Why, you study here!”
“Study! What did you expect?” asked Rieler. “This isn’t exactly a healthresort. All the same, study is no interruption to games. We manage toget a good deal in during each day.”
“This is our half holiday and we’re going to have a game of ball attwo,” said a stocky youth with a freckled face and a substantial smile,“and the shortstop on our team is going down town to have his picturetaken or some such foolishness. Will you help us out?”
“Delighted,” said Clarence. “I’ve played several positions, butshortstop is my favorite.”
Clarence, from the very outset of the game realized that he was the heroof the hour. Nearly all of the junior division boys not engaged in thegame chose to be spectators.
Clarence rose to the occasion. The second batter up of the opposing teamsent him a sharp grounder. He captured it on a very ugly bound, whirledit to the second baseman, who in turn threw it to first. It resulted ina pretty double play.
Then the onlooking small boys broke into cheers and yells, making at thesame time lively demonstrations with legs and arms.
“Gee!” exclaimed an enthusiast near third base. “I hope he’ll stayhere.”
On coming to bat, Clarence sent a liner over second, and reaching first,kept right on while the center fielder was throwing the ball in. When, amoment later, Clarence stole third and came in on an out at first, thestorm of applause broke out again.
“Take off your hat,” said Rieler to the run-getter.
“Shucks!” said Clarence. “Say, here comes Will Benton, and he looksexcited.”
“Hey, Clarence,” shouted Benton as soon as he was within hailingdistance, “Father Rector wants you at once. It’s important and he saysyou’re to bring John Rieler along, too.”
For the first and only time in his life, Master Clarence surrendered hisplace in a ball contest willingly. Even Rieler, who next to swimmingloved the national game, called with alacrity for a substitute.
“Hang baseball,” he said recklessly, as accompanied by Clarence andWill, he hastened toward the Rector’s room. “We can play that any fineday. But it’s nice to be with you, Clarence Esmond. I’ve a feeling thatwhen I’m with you there’s something going to happen.”
“You may be only half in earnest, Rieler,” said Will Benton; “but thefact is I’ve got the same feeling myself. My firm belief is that MasterClarence’s bright-eyed goddess of adventure hasn’t lost her grip on heryoung victim yet. She’s got him hoodooed.”
“See here, you fellows,” remonstrated Clarence, “talk about somethingpleasant. What I want is a quiet life.”
“You’ll get a quiet life—somewhere, some day,” said Benton, “but I’ve afeeling in my bones that you’re not out of the woods yet.”
“I feel just that way, too,” added Rieler.
The Reverend Rector dressed in his street clothes was awaiting them atthe entrance to the faculty building.
“Ah, Clarence,” he said, “are you ready for another adventure?”
“Anything but that, Father.”
“Oh yes, you are.”
“Never again, Father.”
“Very well; if that’s the case, we’ll drop it,” and the Rector assumed alook of disappointment.
“Drop what, Father?”
“Nothing much. You know, I’ve had the station agents about the riverline to be on the lookout for that gypsy camp. We’ve got them located,or at least we know about where they are.”
“And,” cried Clarence, growing very red, “we’ve got a chance to saveDora?”
“That was my idea,” said Father Keenan. “I thought you were interestedin the girl. But of course, if you don’t care for any moreadventures——”
“Oh, Father, I take it back. I’d lose an arm or a leg—I’d lose anythingto save that poor little child from the hands of Pete.”
“Ah!” said the Rector, “you really don’t know what you want sometimes.Now, boys, there’s a machine awaiting us at the side of this house, andif you would like to go, Rieler——”
“Like it! I’d not miss it for ten years of my life,” cried Rieler,ecstatically.
“And you, Will Benton? We may need your strong arm.”
“Father Rector, I consider this invitation the greatest privilege you’veever granted me, and goodness knows you’ve been giving me every favoryou could since I came to Campion. Clarence has told me a good dealabout that little girl-saint, and I’d do anything to save her.”
The four knights-errant had by this time taken their places in theautomobile. Father Keenan gave the chauffeur a few words of instruction,and with a speed exceeding the limit allowed in any known State, county,city, or village of the United States the machine shot down MinnesotaAvenue.
“Now, listen, boys,” said Father Keenan, as they swept past the BohemianCatholic Ch
urch. “Yesterday, I got the local station agent, who is avery good friend of mine, to make inquiries northward about any gypsieswho might be seen. Just a few minutes ago he sent me word that a messagehad come from Lynxville, to the effect that a party of gypsies hadcamped three miles below that village.”
“What time did he get the message?” asked Clarence.
“Just at a quarter past two,” said the Rector, “and he sent the newswithin fifteen minutes of the gypsies’ arrival there. A friend of hishappened to be automobiling, saw the gypsies pitch tent, and hurried atonce to let him know.”
“If they camped at two,” said Clarence, “they’ll probably stay for theirnoon-day meal, and won’t start off till half past three or four. Can weget there before then?”
Father Keenan looked at his watch.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “It’s now twenty minutes to three. Who knows?If our chauffeur keeps up this clip, we may catch them.”
“And when we do catch ’em,” asked Rieler, “what are we going to do with’em?”
“How many men are in the crowd, Clarence?” asked the Rector.
“Let’s see. There’s Ben, but you needn’t count him. He’ll be with us ifit comes to a row. Then there’s Pete, the leader, his two grown sons,and Ezra. Just four in all.”
“I rather think,” said the Rector, “that we can manage things withoutgetting the sheriff of Lynxville to come to our help with a posse.”
“Sure thing,” exclaimed John Rieler, his eyes dancing with enthusiasm.“I’m only sixteen myself, but I’m feeling pretty good, and I would liketo tackle Pete.”
“I’ve whipped Ezra once,” cried Clarence, forgetting his avowed distastefor adventure, “and I feel pretty sure I can do it again.”
“I don’t want to blow,” said the brawny muscular giant who was Prefectof the Sodality, “but I really think I’d like to tackle those two oldersons of Pete myself.”
“And where do I come in?” asked the Rector.
“You’ve got the worst job of all, Father,” said Clarence, grinning.“You’ll have to take care of Pete’s wife. For myself, I’d as soon fighta bunch of wild-cats. I think she’s possessed by the devil.”
“Well, boys,” said the Rector after a moment’s reflection, and with acertain tone of regret, “I’m not a fighting man. My cloth forbids it. Ifpossible, we must get Dora without striking a blow.”
John Rieler sighed like an auto in full speed with the muffler open.
“We’re going to get Dora anyhow,” pleaded Benton.
“Oh, yes; we’ll get her, no doubt. Now here’s the way we’ll go about it.When we arrive at the camp, Clarence and John Rieler and myself willvisit the gypsies. You, Will Benton, will remain in the automobile withthe chauffeur.”
“Father, won’t you please let me in on this?” pleaded the chauffeur,opening his mouth for the first time. “If there’s any fighting to bedone, I’d like to have a chance.”
“But we’re not looking for a fight,” persisted the Rector, who wasclearly on the unpopular side. “Anyhow the three of us will visit thegypsies, and I’ll do the talking. It is my intention to ask for therelease of Dora, and, if refused, try to scare the gypsies into givingher up. While I’m talking I’ll take stock of their forces. If I see thatwe’ll have to fight for it, I’ll raise my hand—my right hand—so.”
And the Rector raised a closed hand with the index finger pointingupward. “That will mean, Benton, that you are to put on all speed forLynxville, get the sheriff and one other man without delay. But if I seemy way to getting the girl without a fight, I’ll raise both handsupwards, and that means that you two are to step out of the machine andjoin us.”
“All right, Father,” said Will. “But I think we can fix things withoutany sheriff.”
During the conversation the machine had been whizzing past hamlet, fieldand forest. Not once since leaving Prairie du Chien had their speedlessened.
“Now, boys,” said the Rector, after the lapse of several minutes, “we’regetting pretty near the place. Suppose we keep silent. Go slowly, now,chauffeur, and make as little noise as possible. And while we’re silent,let us all say a little prayer that we may succeed.”
The machine went forward slowly, cautiously. Clarence noticed the lipsof John Rieler moving. Will Benton had removed his hat and sat with headbowed. Several minutes passed in perfect silence. Then the Rectortouched the chauffeur’s arm. The machine stopped.
“Look,” whispered the Rector, pointing toward an open space on theriver’s edge.
All turned eagerly.
A little tent—Dora’s tent—rose within thirty yards of them; only theone tent—nothing more.