CHAPTER XXI
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER
The presence of the strange boats on the Inner Beach was not discovereduntil just before breakfast. Roy had said nothing to anyone of thenight's adventures. Otto Ferris was noisily hammering a spoon on a newdish-pan when Kirby burst excitedly on to the scene.
"Mr. Buckman, there are three new boats on the beach, sir!"
"New boats?"
"Yes, sir, rowboats."
"Where did they come from? Whose are they?" asked the instructor,bewilderedly.
"I don't know, sir. They're not ours."
"Someone must have come in the night," said Horace. "Maybe campers."
"Well, after breakfast we'll have a look around," said Mr. Buckman.
As soon as grace had been said Roy spoke up.
"Those boats belong to Hammond, Mr. Buckman," he said.
"To Hammond? How do you know, Porter? What are they doing here?"
"I brought them, sir."
A howl of laughter arose. Mr. Buckman smiled genially.
"I suppose there's a joke somewhere," he said. "Get rid of it, Porter."
"Well, yes, there is a joke, sir," answered Roy quietly. "And I guessit's on Hammond."
Something in his tone silenced the laughter and from one end of thetrestle table to the other the fellows forgot the sizzling ham and eggsbefore them and looked eagerly at Roy.
"You've been up to something!" cried Chub.
"I've been up half the night," answered Roy.
Excited yells and exclamations followed this announcement. Fellowsjumped from their places and crowded about him.
"Out with it!" they cried. "What's up? Where did you find the boats?When was it?"
And so Roy began at the beginning, hugely enjoying the amazement thestory created. Time and again he was interrupted by excited questions;thrice Chub literally fell on his neck and hugged him until torn away byeager members of the audience. And when the story was finished theydragged Roy from the bench and sat upon him and pummelled him joyfully.He was more than satisfied with the sensation he had created; he waseven glad for the sake of his aching ribs that it hadn't been anygreater. And then he was dragged off to the beach and made to go throughthe narrative all over again, pointing out where he stood and where"Jim" stood, Mr. Buckman following as interestedly as any. And in themiddle of it they found the note under the stones.
"Found!" (it ran) "Five boats. Owner may have same by applying toHammond Academy and describing property."
"Cheeky dubs!" growled Post.
Chub, who during the last few minutes had been looking grave andsorrowful, broke in aggrievedly.
"It was mighty mean of you to keep the whole thing to yourself, though,"he said. "You might have let me in on it."
Roy had to explain the impossibility of doing so, but Chub wasdisconsolate until, an hour or so later, a boat was seen leaving theHammond landing. Then the entire camp went to the end of the island andwatched in silent enjoyment the approach of the Hammond boat. It heldfour fellows, and it didn't head straight for the island; evidently theyweren't quite certain what had become of their boats. They passed theend of the island, each fellow apparently trying to look unconcerned,waved to the group on the point and kept on toward the other shore. Butwhen the Inner Beach was in sight and the boats revealed to view theystopped rowing, talked a minute among themselves and then turned androwed slowly toward the beach. The campers walked dignifiedly around tomeet them.
It was a sheepish-looking quartette that beached their boat and advancedtoward the group. The leader was Schonberg. Beside him was a tall,good-looking fellow whom Roy rightfully guessed to be "Jim." Schonbergspoke first.
"Hello, you fellows," he said sadly. "You're mighty smart, aren't you?"
"So-so," answered Horace amiably.
"I s'pose we can have our boats?" asked Schonberg.
"Help yourself," answered Horace with a grin.
Schonberg saw the grin, strove to look unconscious and finally grinnedback. That broke the ice. Ferry Hill howled its enjoyment and the threeambassadors joined in, though with less spontaneity.
"Come on up, you fellows," said Chub. "Let's chin."
So they came up and sat down at the edge of the bushes.
"It's one on us," said Schonberg, "isn't it, Jim?"
Jim laughed, plucked a blade of grass, stuck it in the corner of hismouth and said he guessed it was.
"What I'd like to know, though," he added puzzledly, "is how the dickensyou did it."
"Ask this fellow," suggested Chub, nodding toward Roy.
The ambassadors looked inquiringly at Roy. Roy explained. Theambassadors opened their eyes, looked blankly incredulous and finallyconvinced.
"Well, I'll be blowed!" muttered Jim. "That's what Joyce meant when heasked about my cold!"
"What do you think of that?" exclaimed Schonberg. The other two shooktheir heads, plainly at a loss for words to adequately express just whatthey did think. Then there were a lot of questions, which Roy answeredcheerfully, and finally Schonberg got up.
"Well, you did us to a turn," he said frankly. "As for you, Porter,you--" he hesitated; then--"you ought to come to Hammond!" he finished,evidently bestowing the highest praise he could think of.
"Thanks," answered Roy with a laugh, "but I was there last night andfound it mighty cold."
"If we'd known it was you," said Jim, "we might have made it warmer foryou."
"That's just what I thought, and so I took particular pains not to tellanyone."
Ferry Hill assisted Hammond to launch her three boats. Hammond expressedher thanks. Each bade the other good-bye. Hammond rowed away. Then theformal politeness of the parting was suddenly marred by one of theambassadors who had thus far scarcely spoken. He was a thin, scrawnyyouth and wore glasses. When the boats were a little way off shore andheaded toward home he looked defiantly across at the group on the beachand shook his fist.
"Just you wait until next year, you fresh kids!" he shouted. Schonbergtold him to dry up and Jim splashed him with water, but he of thespectacles would not be stilled. "We'll show you next time," he addedvenomously. Ferry Hill laughed; all save Post. Post blew a kiss.
"All right, dearest!" he called back.
"Dearest" replied at some length, but his utterances were marred by Jimwho promptly pulled him backward into the bottom of the boat. SoHammond, acknowledging defeat, took her departure, trailing herrecovered war-craft dejectedly behind.
Ferry Hill was in raptures all day long; and a week later when schoolhad begun once more and the camp was only a memory, Roy found himself ahero indeed. The returning students listened to the tale with wildestdelight and Horace Burlen's supremacy was a thing of the past. Only theveriest handful of loyal subjects remained about his fallen throne.Ferry Hill acknowledged a new leader, and his name was Roy Porter.
Horace accepted his overthrow with apparent good grace, but that he wasfar from reconciled subsequent events proved. Roy took his honors coollyand modestly. A youth less well-balanced might have been badly spoiled.The younger boys followed Roy about and hung breathless on his lightestword. Quarrels and arguments were laid before him for adjustment andthere were always one or more worshiping subjects at hand eager to runhis errands. But Roy did his own errands and refused to be spoiled bythe adulation of his friends. Horace's overthrow, however, pleased himwell. He had never forgotten or forgiven that youth's insult to hiscrimson sweater, and revenge was sweet.
Meanwhile April passed into May and May ran swiftly toward June. Hammondcame over and played the first of a series of three games on thediamond and won decisively by twelve runs to five. Neither Post norKirby proved effective in the pitcher's box and the playing of the othermembers of the team was listless and slow. Ferry Hill made as manyerrors as runs and secured only four hits off of Rollins, the opposingpitcher; who, by the way, proved to be the "Jim" of Roy's midnightadventure. Chub was in despair. Mr. Cobb rated the players soundly afterthe game and threatened all sorts of d
ire punishments if they didn't dobetter. Roy had one error to his credit, but aside from that had playeda fairly good game. The second Hammond game was two weeks away and inthe meanwhile every effort was made to better the team. Practice becamestiffer, and stiffer substitutes were tried in almost every position. Upto the last week of May there had been little to choose between Post andKirby, but in the game with Highland Academy on the twenty-eighth of themonth, Post showed such excellent form that it was decided to save himfor the next Hammond contest.
Affairs on the river were meanwhile promising far better. The first Fourwas rowing finely, Whitcomb at stroke, Hadden at 2, Burlen at 3 andGallup at bow. Otto Ferris had failed to get out of the second boat,where, with Fernald, Walker and Pearse he was daily making the first rowits hardest to win out in the Practice races.
On the track things were in poor shape. Hammond would not compete withFerry Hill in track and field games and so there was but littleincentive for the latter school. Still, a handful of boys went in forrunning, hurdling, pole-vaulting, jumping and shot-putting inpreparation for the preparatory school meet.
Those boys who neither rowed, played baseball nor performed on thetrack--and there weren't many such--essayed golf or went fishing on theriver or along one or the other of the two nearby streams. The streamswere the more popular, though, for they afforded excellent sport withrod and fly, Wissick Creek especially yielding fine trout, principallyfor the reason that it ran for several miles through private estates andhad been carefully preserved for many years. The best pools were postedand once in a great while a case of poaching came up before thePrincipal, but as poaching was held to be a dire offence, punishablewith expulsion, the fellows as a general thing contented themselves withsuch portions of the stream as were open to the public. Of course,fishing on Sunday was strictly prohibited, but sometimes a boy wouldwander away from school for a Sunday afternoon walk with a fly-book inhis pocket and an unjointed rod reposing under his clothes and makinghim quite stiff-kneed in one leg. Such things will happen in the bestregulated schools just as long as trout will rise to a fly and boys'nature remains unchanged.
Roy and Chub and Bacon and the others making up the first nine had notime, however, in those days, for fishing, either legal or illegal. Theywere busy, very busy. And the nearer the second Hammond gameapproached, the busier they were. Mr. Cobb worked them right up to theeve of that important contest. If they lost it would not be for lack ofhard practice.
All Ferry Hill crossed the river in a blazing June sun, brown and whitebanners flying, to watch and cheer. Even the crew men postponed rowinguntil after the game. It was a hard-fought battle from first to last, inwhich the honors went to the pitchers. Hammond started with her secondchoice twirler, he giving place in the seventh inning to Jim Rollins.Ferry Hill used Post all through and he didn't fail her. Neither sidescored until the fifth, and then Ferry Hill got a man to second on anerror, and scored him by making the first hit of the game, a two-baggerthat placed Chub on second, where he stayed, while Roy flied out tocenter-field and brought the inning to a close. In the sixth an error byBacon, at short, started things going for Hammond. Her first man upstole second. Her next batsman sacrificed and sent him to third fromwhere he scored on a long fly to the outfield which Patten couldn'thandle fast enough. Then nothing more happened until the eighth, whenBacon was hit by Rollins, stole second, went to third on a sacrifice andscored on a passed ball. Hammond failed to solve Post's curves in theirhalf of that inning, Ferry Hill had no better luck in the first of theninth and Hammond, in the last half of the ninth, placed a man on firstand then went out in one, two, three order.
Ferry Hill had won, but she had won on errors largely, and the outlookfor the deciding game, when Rollins would pitch all through, was farfrom bright. But at least Ferry Hill had rendered that third gamenecessary, and that was something to be thankful for. And the fact thatshe had played with vim and snap and had made but two errors wasencouraging. Ferry Hill went home with banners still flying and hercheers echoing back from shore to shore. And Roy, because he hadaccepted every chance and had played a faultless game at first-base,found himself more of a hero than ever.
More practice followed, interspersed with minor contests withneighboring schools. Ferry Hill seemed to have found her pace, for shedisposed of three visiting nines in short order, and on the Saturdayfollowing the Hammond victory traveled down-river and won from PrenticeMilitary Academy by the overwhelming score of 16 to 2. Chub's spiritshad risen since the last Hammond game and it was his old self thattumbled upstairs from the Junior Dormitory the next morning beforerising bell and snuggled into Roy's cot.
"Get over, you log," he whispered, "and give me some room."
"Room! You've got the whole bed now! If Cobb sees you--"
"Let him; who cares? Say, Roy, let's go fishing to-day. I feel just likeit."
"And get found out and put on inner bounds? No; thanks!"
"We won't get found out, Roy, my boy. We'll just go for a walk thisafternoon and take a couple of rods with us.
"I'll borrow one for you. I've got flies to burn. We'll go to a place Iknow, a dandy hole; regular whales there! What do you say?"
"I say you're a silly chump to risk it."
"Tommy rot! Come along!"
"I'll go along, but I won't fish."
"What a good little boy!"
"That's all right, Chub, but I don't want to go on bounds just when theHammond game is coming along. It's only a week, you know. You take myadvice and be good."
"I can't be good--to-day. I feel too kittenish," added Chub with agurgle of laughter. "There goes the bell. Will you come?"
"Yes, but won't fish."
"Oh, pshaw! Yes, you will. I'll borrow a rod for you anyhow."
And Chub slipped out of bed and scampered downstairs again.
At three o'clock two boys sauntered idly away from school in thedirection of the river. One of them held himself rather stiffly and hisside pocket bulged more than usual. But there was no one to notice thesetrivial things. Once on the river bank they doubled back and struckinland toward the Silver Cove road, Chub leading the way.
"Gee!" he said, "I'll be glad when I can take these poles out! They'remighty uncomfortable."
"Did you bring two?" asked Roy.
"Sure! When you see the way those trout bite you'll want to take a handyourself. I borrowed Tom's. Otto Ferris had to come nosing around andsaw it, but he won't tell. If he does I'll make him wish he hadn't!"
"He might tell Horace," said Roy uneasily. "If Horace thought he couldget me into trouble he'd do it mighty quick."
"Oh, he's a back-number," answered Chub gaily. "This way, over the fenceand across the pasture; it's only about a quarter of a mile from here."
Soon they were treading their way along the bank of a fairly wide brook,pushing through the alders and young willows. After a while Chub stoppedand jointed his pole.
"You're going to fish, aren't you?" he asked.
Roy shook his head.
"No, especially since there's a chance that Ferris will tell Horace. Idon't want to get hung up for the Hammond game. You go ahead, if you'vegot to, and I'll watch."
"All right, if you won't. What's that?"
He started and turned, peering intently through the bushes.
"Thought I heard someone," he muttered.
"Hope it wasn't Cobb or Buckman," said Roy fervently.
"Oh, they don't spy," answered Chub, selecting a grey fly from a pocketof the book that had swelled his pocket. "Well, here goes for that niceblack place over there where the little eddy is."
The line flashed in the air and fell softly into the shadowed water.After that Chub seemed to forget Roy's presence entirely. Roy leanedback with hands clasped behind his head and watched; that is, he watchedfor a while; then his eyelids closed and with the babble of the streamand the drowsy hum of insects for a lullaby he went to sleep.
When he awoke the shadows had lengthened perceptibly and Chub was not insight. From the cram
ped condition of his neck and arm he judged that hehad slept hard and long. He got to his feet and called softly. There wasno answer. Evidently Chub had wandered further along stream. Roy waiteda while, then, as it was fast approaching supper-time, he started home.As he reached the fence back of the athletic field Chub jumped into theroad a few rods above and hurried toward him.
"You're a great one," called Roy. "I waited almost half an hour for youto come back there."
"I'm awfully sorry," said Chub. "You see I couldn't get even a nibblethere and so I thought I'd go on up-stream. You were having a lovelysleep and I hated to wake you. I tried two or three pools and foundnothing doing. Didn't get even a bite all afternoon. And when I gotback you were gone. What did you do with Tom's pole?"
"Tom's pole?" echoed Roy blankly.
"Yes, did you leave it there? I couldn't see it."
"Why, it wasn't there! At least, I don't think it was. Are you sure youdidn't take it with you?"
"Sure; I only had my own. That's funny. It's too late to go back now.I'll go up in the morning and see if I can find it. If I can't I'll haveto buy him another one."
"I'll do the buying," answered Roy. "You borrowed the old thing for me."
"Nonsense; it's my funeral. You said you didn't want it, and I insistedon getting it for you. Well, maybe I'll find it. Come on, we'll have tohurry a bit."