CHAPTER I.
THE BOYS OF PUTNAM HALL.
"Hurrah, boys, the lake is frozen over! We'll be sure to have goodskating by to-morrow afternoon!"
"That's fine news, Tom," came from Sam Rover. "I've been fairly achingfor a skate ever since that cold snap of two weeks ago."
"We'll have to start up some skating matches if good skating does reallyturn up," put in Dick Rover, who had just joined his two brothers in thegymnasium attached to Putnam Hall. "Don't you remember those matches wehad last year?"
"Certainly, Dick," answered Tom Rover. "Didn't I win one of the silvermedals?"
"Gracious! but what a lot has happened since then," said Sam, who wasthe youngest of the trio. "We've gotten rid of nearly all of ourenemies, and old Crabtree is in jail and can't bother Mrs. Stanhope orDora any more."
"We didn't get rid of Dan Baxter," remarked Dick. "He gave us the slipnicely."
"Do you think he'll dare to bother us again, Dick?" questioned Samanxiously.
"I hope not, but I'm not certain, Sam. The Baxters are a bad lot, as allof us know, and as Dan grows older he'll be just as wicked as hisfather, and maybe worse."
"What a pity a fellow like Dan can't turn over a new leaf," came fromTom Rover. "He's bright enough in his way, and would make a first-ratechap."
"It's not in the blood," went on Dick. "We'll have to keep our eyesopen, that's all. If anything, Dan is probably more angry at us thanever, for he believes we were the sole means of his father being put inprison."
"Old Baxter deserved all he got," murmured Sam.
"So he did."
"Well, if Dan Baxter ever bothers me he'll catch it warm," came fromTom. "I shan't attempt to mince matters with him. Everybody at thisschool knows what a bully he was, and they know, too, what a rascal he'sbeen since he left. So I say, let him beware!" And so bringing theconversation to an end for the time being, Tom Rover ran across thegymnasium floor, leaped up and grasped a turning-bar stationed there,and was soon going through a number of exercises recently taught to himby the new "gym" teacher.
"Gracious, but Tom is getting to be a regular circus gymnast!" criedSam, as he watched his brother in admiration. "Just see what beautifulturns he is making."
"Humph! that aint so wonderful," came from someone at Sam's elbow, andturning the youngest Rover found himself close to Billy Tubbs, a short,stocky youth who had entered Putnam Hall at the opening of the fallterm. Tubbs was a boy of rich parentage, and while he was notparticularly a bully, he considered himself of great importance andvastly superior to the majority of his associates.
"All right, Tubby; if it isn't so wonderful, just you jump up and doit," returned Sam coldly.
"Look here, how many times have I told you not to call me Tubby!" burstout the rich youth. "I don't like it at all."
"Then what shall we call you?" asked Sam innocently. "Tubblets?"
"No, I don't want you to call me Tubblets either. My name isTubbs--William Philander Tubbs."
"Gosh! Am I to say all that whenever I want to address you?" demandedSam, with a pretended gasp for breath.
"I don't see why you shouldn't. It's my name."
"But Tubby--I mean Tubblets--no, Willander Philliam Tubbs--the name isaltogether too long. Why, supposin' you were standing on a railroadtrack looking east, and an express train was coming from the west at therate of seventy-five miles an hour, and it got to within a hundred yardsof you when I discovered your truly horrible peril, and I should startto warn you of the aforesaid truly horrible peril, take my word for it,before I could utter such an elongated personal handle as that, you'd bestruck and distributed along that track for a distance of a mile and aquarter. No, Tubby, my conscience wouldn't allow it--really itwouldn't." And Sam shook his head seriously.
"See here, what are you giving me?" roared Tubbs wrathfully. "Don't youworry about my standing on a railroad track and asking you to call meoff." And then he added, with a red face, as a laugh went up from half adozen students standing near: "William Philander Tubbs is my name, and Ishan't answer to any other after this."
"Good for you Washtubs!" came from a boy in the rear of the crowd.
"I'd stick to that resolution, by all means, Buttertubs," came from theopposite side of the crowd.
And then one older youth, who was given to writing songs, began to singsoftly:
"Rub-a-dub-dub! One man in a tub, And who do you think it is, It's William Philander, Who's got up his dander, And isn't he mad! Gee whizz!"
The doggerel, gotten up on the spur of the moment, struck the fancy offully a score of boys, big and little, and in an instant all weresinging it over and over again, at the top of their lungs, and at thisthose who did not sing began to laugh uproariously.
"I say, what's it all about?" demanded Tom, as he slid from theturning-bar.
"Songbird Powell has composed a comic opera in Tubby's honor," answeredLarry Colby, one of the Rover boys' chums. "I guess he's going to haveit put on the stage after the holidays, with Tubby as leading man."
"See here, I won't have this!" roared the rich youth, waving his handwildly first at one boy and then another. "I don't want you to make upany songs about me."
"Songbird won't charge you anything," put in Fred Garrison, another ofthe students. "He's a true poet, and writes for nothing. You ought tofeel highly honored."
"Make a speech of thanks, that's a good fellow," put in George Granbury,another student.
"It's an outrage!" shouted Tubbs, his face growing redder each instant."I won't stand it."
"All right, we won't charge you for sitting on it," came from the backof the crowd.
"My right name is----"
"Barrel, but they call me Tubbs for short," finished another student."Hurrah, Tubby is discovered at last."
"Don't blush, Washtub! you don't look half as pretty as when you'repale."
"If you feel warm, Buttertub, go out and sit on the thin ice. It willsoon cool you off," came from Fred Garrison.
"I'll cool you off, Garry!" burst out the rich youth, and made a wilddash at his tormentor. But somebody put out a foot and the tormented boystumbled headlong, at which the crowd set up another shout, and thensang louder than ever,
"Rub-a-dub-dub! One man in a tub!"
"I say, who tripped me up!" gasped Tubbs, as soon as he could scrambleup. "Tell me who did it, and I'll soon settle with him."
"Who rolled over the buttertub?" asked Tom solemnly. "One peanut rewardfor the first correct answer to this absorbing puzzle. Please don't allraise your hands at once."
"I believe you did it, Tom Rover!" bellowed the rich youth.
"I? Never, Tubby, my dear boy. I never rolled over a buttertub in mylife. You've got the wrong number. Kindly ring the bell next door."
"Then it was Sam, and I'll fix him for it, see if I don't!"
"No, it wasn't Sam. He never touched a washtub in his life."
"I say it was Sam," cried Tubbs, who was almost beside himself withrage. "And I'm going to teach him a lesson. There, Sam Rover, how do youlike that?"
As the rich youth finished, he caught the youngest Rover by the shoulderwith his left hand and with his right gave Sam a slanting blow on thecheek.
"Stop! I didn't trip you!" exclaimed Sam; and then as Tubbs aimedanother blow at him he ducked and broke loose and hit out in return. Hisblow was harder and more truly aimed than he had anticipated, and ittook Tubbs directly on the nose. A spurt of blood followed, accompaniedby a yell of pain, and the rich youth fell back.
"Oh! oh! My nose!"
"You brought it on yourself," retorted Sam. "I didn't----"
"Stop! stop! Boys, what does this mean?" came in a sudden stern voice,and in a moment more the two combatants found themselves confronted byJasper Grinder, a new teacher. "Fighting, eh? How often, must you betold that such disgraceful conduct is not allowed here? You come withme, and I'll make an example of both of you."
And in a moment more the two lads found themselves prisoners in J
asperGrinder's strong grasp and being marched out of the gymnasium toward theschool building proper.