For the Honor of Randall Part 1

For the Honor of Randall.

by Lester Chadwick.

CHAPTER I

A PERILOUS RIDE

"What a glorious night!"

Tom Parsons, standing at the window of the study which he shared with his chums, looked across the campus of Randall College.

"It's just perfect," he went on.

There was no answer from the three lads who, in various att.i.tudes, took their ease, making more or less of pretenses at studying.

"The moon," Tom went on, "the moon is full----"

"So are you--of words," blurted out Sid Henderson, as he leafed his trigonometry.

"It's one of the finest nights----"

"Since nights were invented," broke in Phil Clinton, with a yawn. "Dry up, Tom, and let us bone, will you?"

Unmoved by the scorn of his chums, the tall lad at the cas.e.m.e.nt, gazing out on the scene, which, to do him justice, had wonderfully moved him, continued to stand there. Then, in a quiet voice, as though unconscious of the presence of the others, he spoke:

"The moon o'er yonder hilltop rises, a silver disk, like unto a warrior's shield, whereon he, from raging battle coming, is either carried upon it, or bears it proudly as----"

"Oh for cats' sake!" fairly yelled Frank Simpson, the Big Californian, as he had been dubbed. He shied his book full at Tom Parsons, catching him in the back, and bringing to a close the blank verse our hero was spouting, with a grunt that greatly marred it.

"Say, you fellows can't appreciate anything decent!" shot back the lad at the window. "If I try to raise you above the level of the kindergarten cla.s.s you are in deep water. I suppose I should have said: 'Oh see the moon. Does the moon see me? The moon sees me. What a pretty moon!' Bah!

You make me tired. Here we have the most glorious night of the winter, with a full moon, snow on the ground to make it as light as day, a calm, perfect night----"

"Oh perfect night!" mocked Sid.

"Vandal!" hissed Tom.

"Go on! Hear Hear! Bravo!" cried Phil. "Let the n.o.ble Senator proceed!"

"Oh, for the love of mustard!" broke in the big lad who had tossed his book at Tom. "There's no use trying to do any work with this mob. I'm going over to see Dutch Housenlager. He won't spout blank verse when I want to bone, and that's some comfort."

"No, but he'll want to get you into some horse-play, like tying knots in Proc. Zane's socks, or running the flag up at half mast on the chapel,"

declared Tom. "You had much better stay here, Frank. I've got something to propose."

"There! I knew it!" cried Phil. "There's a girl in it somewhere, or Tom would never be so poetical. Who is she, Tom? and when are you going to propose?"

"Oh, you fellows are worse than the measles," groaned the lad who had been looking at the moonlight. "I'm done with you. I leave you to your fate."

With a grunt of annoyance Tom turned away from the window, kicked under the sofa the book which Frank had thrown at him, and reached for his cap and coat.

"Where you going?" asked Phil quickly, as he turned over in the deep armchair, causing the ancient piece of furniture to emit many a groan, and send out a choking cloud of dust. "Whither away, fair sir?"

"Anywhere, to get away from you fellows," grunted the displeased one.

"No, but seriously, where are you going?" asked Frank. "Now that you've broken the ice, I don't mind admitting that I don't care such an awful lot for boning."

Tom paused in the doorway, one arm in and the other out of his coat.

"I'm going out," he answered. "It's too nice to stay in. The coasting must be great on Ridge Hill, and with this moon--say it's a shame to stay in! That's what I've been trying to ding into you fellows, only you wouldn't listen. Why, half of Randall must be out there to-night."

"What about Proc. Zane?" asked Sid, referring to the proctor, who kept watch and ward over the college.

"Nothing doing," answered Tom. "A lot of the fellows went to Moses after the last lecture and got permission to take their bobs over on the hill.

There were so many that the good old doctor said he'd raise the rules for to-night, because it was likely to be such a fine one. So there's no danger of being up on the carpet, if we get in at any decent hour."

"Why didn't you say so at first?" demanded Sid. "Of course we'll go. Why didn't you mention it instead----"

"I thought you had some poetry in you," responded Tom. "I tried to make you appreciate the beauty of the night rather than appeal to the sordid side of your natures, and----"

"Cut it out!" begged Phil, with a laugh. "If there's any coasting, and I guess there is, we'll be in it. Come on, fellows, and we'll see how our bob does on the hill."

With laughter and gay talk, now that they had made up their minds to adopt Tom's suggestion, and go coasting, the four chums, than whom there was no more devoted quartette in Randall, pa.s.sed out into the corridor.

As they descended the stairs they heard a subdued hum that told of other students bent on the same errand, and, when they had a glimpse of the snow-covered campus, they beheld many dark figures hurrying along, dragging single sleds or big bobs after them.

"Say, I hope no one pinches ours!" cried Tom, and at the thought he hastened his pace toward an out-building of the gymnasium, where the students kept their bicycles in Summer, and their bobs in Winter.

It was now Winter at Randall, a glorious Winter, following a glorious football season. For several years it had been the custom for the students to indulge in coasting on a big hill about a mile away from the college. Some of the lads clubbed together and had built fine, big bobs, with foot rests, carpet on the top, with immense gongs to sound warning, and with steering wheels that equalled those of autos, while some had drag brakes, to use in case of emergency.

The bob owned jointly by Tom Parsons, Sid Henderson, Phil Clinton and Frank Simpson, was one of the best in Randall. It was fifteen feet long, and could carry quite a party. It needed no small skill and strength to steer it, too, when fully loaded.

Our friends, getting out their sled, soon found themselves in the midst of a throng of fellow students, all hurrying toward the hill. The four chums had hold of the rope to haul the big bob.

"There are the Jersey twins," remarked Sid, as Jerry and Joe Jackson hurried on, dragging a small bob.

"And here comes Dutch," added Phil. "He can ride with us, I guess."

"Sure," a.s.sented Tom. "I say, Dutch!" he called. "Got a sled?"

"No. Why should I when there are already plenty?" "Dutch," or otherwise Billy Housenlager, demanded.

"That's right," spoke Frank. "Come on, give us a hand, and we'll give you a ride."

"I am too tired," was the answer, "but I will let you have the honor of pulling me," and, with a sigh of contentment Dutch threw himself down on the big bob.

"Here! Get off, you horse!" cried Sid.

A loud snore was the answer. Sid started back to roll the lazy student off, but Tom, with a wink, indicated a better way of disposing of him.

At a signal the four students broke into a run.