The High School Freshmen Part 7

"Then please don't let out a word," begged young Prescott, "about d.i.c.k & Co., as we fellows are called, being at the bottom of the plot against the Board of Education."

"Not a word!" promised Captain Edgeworth, gravely.

Then d.i.c.k was hustled good-naturedly to the door, Ben Badger once more springing forward to hold it open. As d.i.c.k hurried out onto the sidewalk a hurricane of cheers followed him. Then, as the door was closing, came a fierce burst of the High School yell.

Just as it happened, this parting salute couldn't have been worse timed. Within four doors Dr. Thornton, the princ.i.p.al, was sauntering slowly along. He heard tine hubbub, of course, and looked up, to see d.i.c.k Prescott coming out alone, a pleased look on his flushed face.

Across the street, just coming out of a store, was Chairman Jason Stone of the Gridley Board of Education.

"Young Prescott! Bless my soul!" murmured Dr. Thornton. "Why are the football team making such a row over that young freshman?"

In another instant the princ.i.p.al's question all but answered itself.

"Why, I wonder," muttered the good doctor, "if the enthusiasm in any way relates to the hoax on the Board. Was Prescott at the bottom of it? I'll keep it in mind and try to find out!"

"If the football crew are making all that row over a mere freshman,"

thought Chairman Stone, "then young Prescott must be the inventor of the yarn that has made Gridley wonder whether we of the Board are so many 'dead ones.' Hm! hm! I'll find out if that's the case. Such a trick is clearly one that would call for expelling the young man from the High School!"

CHAPTER IV

CAPTION OF THE HOUNDS

"Is that mucker going to run today?"

The questioner was Fred Ripley, and his voice was full of disgust.

He glared at d.i.c.k Prescott, who was seated unconcernedly on a stone wall, awaiting the arrival of Tom Reade and Dan Dalzell, the only other members of d.i.c.k & Co. who were to figure in today's event.

"Is who going to run?" asked Ben Badger.

"That little mucker, Prescott?" insisted Fred.

"Yes," returned Badger, shortly.

"Gridley H.S. is getting worse and worse," growled Ripley.

"Athletics ought to be confined to the best sort of fellows in the school. These little muckers, these n.o.bodies, ought to be kept out of everything in which the real fellows take part."

"Don't be a cad, Ripley," retorted Badger, half angrily.

"Oh, I'm no great stickler for caste, and that sort of thing,"

Fred grumbled on. "I'm democratic enough, when it comes to that, and I a.s.sociate with a good many fellows whose fathers don't stand as high in the community as mine does."

"That's really kind of you," mimicked Ben Badger, with another look of disgust at the rich lawyer's son. "Of course, you feel just as though anything that your father may have accomplished puts you in a rather more elect lot."

"Of course, it does," retorted Fred, drawing himself up stiffly.

"Still, you know as well as anyone does, Badger, that I'm not stuck up just on account of family or position. I'm ready to give the friend's hand to any of the right sort of fellows. But what is that little mucker, Prescott? His parents peddle books and newspapers."

"They run a book and periodical shop, if that is what you mean,"

rejoined Ben, disgustedly, as he looked the young sn.o.b over for the third time. "Some mighty big people have done that in times past. As to position, Prescott's father isn't a rich man, nor a very successful one, but I wish I could look forward, some day, to being half as well educated as d.i.c.k's father is."

"A dreamer, a fool, a man who couldn't and didn't succeed," sneered Fred. "And his son will be a bigger mistake in life. I don't have anything to do with that kind of people and their friends."

"I'll wish you good-day, then," broke in Badger, crisply, and moved away. "I want to be reckoned as one of d.i.c.k Prescott's friends. He's one of the most promising young fellows in Gridley H.S."

Ripley let loose an astounded gasp. He stood still where Badger had left him, boiling over with rage. Had Ripley been wise, he would have chosen another time for anger. Any trainer or physician could have told this young sn.o.b that just before going off on a long race is the worst possible time for letting anger get the best of one. Anger excites the action of the heart to a degree that makes subsequent running performance a thing of difficulty.

Gridley H.S. was out for the October paper chase. This was an annual event, in which the soph.o.m.ores, or third cla.s.smen, acted as the hares, while the freshmen played the part of the hounds.

The course was six miles across country. Three courses, of equal length, were laid down, each with a different terminal. It was known, in advance, only to the hares, which course would be run over. But, which ever course was taken, it must be followed to the end. Five minutes' start was allowed to the hares. Then the hounds were sent after them in full yelp. By starting time for the hounds the hares were sure to be out of sight. An official of the first cla.s.s, who followed the hares at the outset, gave the call when the five minutes were up. Beginning with that call the hares were obliged to scatter bits of paper, as they ran, all the way to the finish of the run.

All three of the courses were somewhat parallel during the first five minutes of the run, but, as the hounds had no means of knowing which course was the right one, the hounds had to divide their forces until the first of the paper trails was struck. Then the "baying" of the hounds who found the trail brought the other two parties of freshmen to them. Usually, four or five upper cla.s.smen ran with the hounds to decide upon "captures" in case of dispute.

A hound overhauling a hare had to throw his arms around the prize, stopping him fairly for at least fifteen seconds. Then the hare was sent back, out of the race. Each hound was credited with the hare he captured.

Twelve hares ran, also twelve hounds. If the hounds captured seven or more of the hares ere the race was finished, then the hounds won. If they captured less than six, the hares won. If six hares were captured, then the race was a "tie." But, as will be seen, with the five minutes' start, and the hares averaging a year more of age, the soph.o.m.ore cla.s.s usually won this chase.

These rules had originated at Gridley, where the High School boys considered their form of the game superior to the rules usually followed.

This year, as in previous years, the soph.o.m.ores felt confident of winning. The freshmen hounds averaged rather small in size, though little was known as to the freshmen running powers or wind. The soph.o.m.ores were all good runners.

The contestants for positions on both teams had been tried out three days before, by a committee of men from the first cla.s.s.

The soph.o.m.ores had not been allowed to see the freshmen run at these trials.

The start was to be made at three o'clock on this Monday afternoon.

All the runners were now here, Reade and Dalzell having been among the last of the freshmen to come up. It was ten minutes before three.

"Half of the freshmen are a pretty mucky looking lot, aren't they?"

asked Ripley, as he and Purcell, of the hares, strolled by.

"I hadn't noticed it," replied Purcell pleasantly. "I thought them a clean and able looking lot of young fellows."

"Humph! A pretty cheap lot! I call 'em," rejoined Ripley.

d.i.c.k Prescott heard and flushed slightly. He understood the allusion, coming from the source that it did. But d.i.c.k was bent on making a good run this afternoon, and kept his temper.

"Hares on the line!" shouted Frank Thompson, finally. He was to fire the shots that started the two teams, then was to run with the hounds to act as one of the judges of possible captures.

Purcell, who was captain of the hares, led his men forward to the line laid across the gra.s.s. Just before they formed, the captain gave some whispered instructions. Ben Badger was already at the line. He was to run with the hares during the first five minutes, then give the final signal for beginning to scatter the paper trail.

"On the line there, quick!" called Thompson, watch in his left hand, pistol in his right. "Ready!"

The hares, each with a bag of torn paper hanging over one hip, bent forward.

Crack! At the report of the pistol the hares bounded forward.

In barely more than a minute afterwards they were out of sight.

Then followed some minutes of tedious waiting for the Gridley freshmen.