The Putnam Hall Rivals

“That’s a better boat than ours,” whispered. Stuffer. “No wonder they want to race us. I guess they want to show off their new boat as much as anything.”

The Pornell students had brought with them a large number of “rooters,” and these cheered to the echo when their friends appeared.

“Hurrah for Pornell Academy!”

“Go in and win! You can do it easily!”

“Hurrah for Putnam Hall!” cried the others, and this cheer also went the length of the course.

A race between four small boys was the first on the programme of events, and this was won by Pornell by three lengths. When the result was announced the Pornellites cheered lustily.

“What did we tell you!”

“Now go in and win the next race!”

The next contest was that between some students of Pornell and Dan Baxter and his cronies. Both crews got away in good shape, and soon the bully’s crew took the lead.

“Baxter’s crew is going to win!”

“Wait, the race isn’t finished yet!”

Half the race had been rowed, and still the Baxter crew kept the lead.

“Looks as if they might win after all,” said Pepper.

“Well, I hope they do – for the honor of Putnam Hall,” put in Jack, promptly.

“That’s right – Putnam Hall against all comers!” cried Andy.

The race was almost done and Baxter’s crew still had a lead of two lengths. They were rowing with all their might, but their strength was almost gone.

“Pull, fellows!” cried the leader of the opponents. And pull they did until the two boats were bow to bow.

“It’s a tie!”

“No, the Pornell crew is ahead!”

“There they go over the line!”

“Pornell wins by a full length!”

The last cry was correct, and once again the Pornell followers yelled and cheered at the top of their lungs. Dan Baxter’s crew was much crestfallen and rowed to the Putnam Hall boathouse looking glum enough.

“Now here come some more victims!” cried a Pornell enthusiast, as Dale and his crew appeared.

“Boys, we must win!” whispered Dale, with fire in his eyes. “We have simply got to do it. If we don’t those Pornell fellows will never get done crowing over us.”

“We’ll win!” said Pepper, firmly. “Oh, we’ve got to do it! Row for all you are worth!”

The two boats were soon at the starting-point, and the rules of the race were explained.

“Are you ready?” was the question put.

There was a moment of silence.

Crack! went a pistol, and as the thin smoke floated over the lake the two crews took the water with their blades and were off.

Each crew rowed a swift, clear stroke, and for the first half-mile the two boats kept side by side.

“Looks like a tie!”

“No! the Pornell boat is crawling ahead!”

“This is Pornell’s race too! Boys, this is our winning day!”

“Don’t crow so soon,” said Joe Nelson,

“Oh, Pornell is going to win,” growled Reff Ritter. “Jack Ruddy and those chaps can’t row.”

“They can row better than you can,” put in Bart Conners.

“Bah!” grumbled Ritter, and walked to another point of the boathouse float.

At the end of the first mile Pornell was slightly in advance. Seeing this, Dale increased the stroke, and at a mile and a quarter the boats were once again side by side.

“Putnam Hall is crawling up!”

“They’ll win out yet!”

“Pull, Pornell, pull!” was the yell from the rival academy lads, and the Pornell boys did pull, the perspiration streaming down the faces of Roy Bock and his cronies.

“Gosh! this is a pace!” panted Andy.

“Don’t talk!” came shortly from Dale. “Pull!”

Again he increased the stroke and Pornell did the same. A quarter of a mile was covered and Pornell was exactly half a boat’s length in the lead.

“It’s Pornell’s race!”

“Hurrah for Roy Bock and his crew!”

“This is a great day for Pornell Academy!”

“Go home, Putnam, and learn how to row!”

The cries continued as the Pornell boat continued to forge ahead until it was nearly two lengths in advance. But the pace was beginning to tell on the rowers, and the fellow named Grimes was breathing with difficulty.

“Keep it up – don’t give in yet!” cried Roy Bock. “We’re almost done! Pull!”

Grimes tried to do so, and so did another fellow named Passmore. But they were “all in,” as it is called, and could not add an ounce of strength to their stroke. Roy Bock was also almost gone, and for the instant the stroke was broken.

It was a chance that Dale had been looking for, and he was quick to take advantage of it. He called on his crew in a sharp way that caused them to brace up, and the stroke was increased wonderfully. Up crawled the Putnam Hall crew, until the other boat was but a quarter of a length ahead.

“Now, boys, now, and the race is ours!” sang out Dale, and they gave a spurt. The line was about a hundred and fifty feet away, and over this they shot – the winners by a length and an eighth!

CHAPTER XV

TARGET PRACTICE

“Hurrah! Putnam Hall wins the race!”

“That was a dandy, wasn’t it?”

“Our boys rowed for all they were worth!”

Yells and cheers rent the air and there was a tooting of horns and whistles.

It was certainly a great victory for Putnam Hall, and Captain Putnam and George Strong were correspondingly proud. As usual Josiah Crabtree kept in the background, for he thought all such contests foolish.

“I congratulate you,” the captain said to Dale and the others. “You deserve a great deal of credit.”

“You won because you kept at it to the end,” said George Strong.

Dan Baxter and his cronies were not happy. The victory of our friends seemed to make their defeat worse.

“I suppose they’ll crow over us for keeps now,” said Coulter.

“Oh, these races don’t amount to much anyway,” put in Reff Ritter, with a yawn.

“If they crow over me I’ll shut ’em up,” said Dan Baxter, savagely.

That evening the cadets of Putnam Hall held a celebration on the campus, and Jack, Pepper, and their chums were in high spirits. Baxter and his crowd did not show themselves.

“Poor Baxter!” said Andy. “He must feel sore all over – after the way he blowed.”

“Maybe it will teach him a lesson not to do so much blowing in the future,” came from Stuffer.

A campus fire had been lit, and around this the boys danced and sang songs. The barrels were piled high, so that the illumination could be seen a long distance.

“I wish the Fords had been here to see the race,” said Pepper.

“And our folks,” returned Jack. “We’ll have to send a full account in the next letters we write.”

“Harry Blossom took some photos,” said Stuffer. “He said he would let us each have one.”

“Good for the first lieutenant of Company A!” cried Jack.

“Hullo, here comes Peleg Snuggers!” cried Andy. “Now for some fun.”

The cue was quickly taken up by the others, and in a trice the general-utility man was surrounded.

“Come, Peleg, we want you to make a speech!” cried Pepper.

“Don’t know nuthin’ about makin’ speeches,” grumbled the man.

“Oh, yes, you do,” put in Andy. “Come now, that’s a good man. Get upon the box!”

“Put him on this barrel!” said Stuffer, with a wink at his friends.

In a twinkling Peleg Snuggers was lifted up.

“Hi! hi! let me go!” he roared. “I don’t want to stand on no barrel.”

“It will be good for your health, Peleg,” said another cadet.

“Up he goes!”

The general-utility man was placed on the barrel, which stood on a box. The outfit was a decidedly shaky one, and poor Peleg trembled from head to foot.

“I’m a-goin’ over!” he groaned. “I know I’m a-goin’ over!”

“Steady, old boy!” sang out a cadet. “Think you’re in a circus, doing the great balancing act?”

“I ain’t no circus actur, I ain’t!”

“Now for the speech,” said Pepper. “I’ll begin it for you. Friends, debtors, and fellow-countrymen: On this sad and joyous occasion, it makes us smile in tears to see so many ugly but handsome faces looking towards and away from us. There you are. Now go ahead, proceed, start, and begin.”

“I can’t make no speech, I tell you!” roared the general-utility man.

“Oh, Peleg, you make me cry!” said Andy. “Please go on, that’s a dear good fellow!”

“Go ahead and we’ll present you with a bunch of rhubarb blossoms,” said Stuffer.

“An’ measure yer head fer a golden crown, so we will!” added Emerald.

“If he can’t talk we’ll have to warm him up!” said another student, and waved a torch towards Snuggers.

This was a signal for all the boys to get torches, and soon they formed a circle around the barrel, each with a torch extended towards poor Peleg.

“Don’t you burn me!” shrieked the unfortunate utility man.

“Speech! speech!” was the cry, and the boys came a little closer with their torches.

“I don’t know what to say!”

“Speech! speech!” And the boys came still closer.

“I can’t – oh, gracious! Don’t burn me, I tell you! Keep back!” The sweat was pouring from the man’s face. “I can’t – Well, here goes! This here school is the best in the world. You fellers is the best in – keep back with that torch! You fellers is the worst – I mean the best in the world. I’m glad to serve you, but I’d be gladder if you’d leave me – get back, I say! It’s been a juberous day, and we are all – we – are all – ”

“Overflowing with joy,” suggested Jack.

“I ain’t overflowing with joy – oh, get back! Yes, I am, and this glorious school – Oh!”

The speech came to a sudden end, as the top of the barrel gave a crack. Down went the general-utility man into the barrel, which rolled from the box to the ground.

“Hullo!” cried Pepper. “Peleg wants a roll! Let’s give it to him.”

“I don’t want – ” began the poor man, but could say no more. Over and over went the barrel, around the campus, with Snuggers in it, the cadets shrieking wildly with joy. Then down the hill to the rear it went.

“It’s going into the lake!”

“Can he swim?”

“I don’t think he can!”

“I ain’t goin’ into the lake!” screamed Peleg Snuggers, and clutched at some tufts of grass as he passed. This served to turn the barrel in a different direction, and it brought up against a tree with a bang. Then the general-utility man crawled out and ran for the barn. He did not show himself again for the balance of that evening.

The fun was carried into the school, and late that evening there were several pillow-fights which George Strong and Josiah Crabtree had to stop. In the mix-up one of the pillows burst open, and Crabtree got all the feathers over his head and had to beat a retreat. But by midnight the fun came to an end and the school became as quiet as usual.

During the following week the boys had something to do which pleased the majority of them a great deal. For three afternoons of the week a part of each company went out for target practice. The targets were set up in a field some distance from the lake, where it would be perfectly safe to shoot at them. Each student was given five shots, and if he was a poor marksman Captain Putnam took it upon himself to teach the lad how to shoot better.

Jack, Andy, and Dale went out together, and the youthful major of the battalion was lucky enough to make forty-seven points out of a possible fifty.

“That is very good, Major Ruddy,” said Captain Putnam. “I am glad to know that our major can shoot so well.”

“Well, I suppose a commander ought to know something about it,” answered Jack, modestly.

When it came Andy’s turn to shoot, the acrobatic lad made forty-one out of a possible fifty. This was not so high, but as thirty-five was considered the passing mark there was no complaint.

“Well, I suppose it could be worse,” was Andy’s comment. He had been afraid that he would not pass, for he did very little shooting.

Reff Ritter was the next student up, and by luck more than anything else he made forty-three points.

“I learned to shoot in Paris,” he said, loudly. “A French expert taught me.”

“That was very good,” said Captain Putnam, quietly.

Gus Coulter came next and at first failed to hit the target. His total was twenty-eight points.

“I shall have to give you a few lessons in shooting,” said the master of the Hall.

“The – er – the wind was too strong,” grumbled Coulter.

At that moment came a wild cry from one side of the field.

“Mad dog! Mad dog! Save me! Save me!”

CHAPTER XVI

ABOUT A MAD DOG

“Where is the mad dog?” cried Dan Baxter, in alarm.

“There he is!” shouted Gus Coulter, turning pale. “Oh, I do hope he doesn’t come this way!”

All of the cadets and the others present looked in the direction from whence the cries proceeded. They saw a middle-aged woman running along a footpath to the side of the field. Behind her was a big dog, who was frothing at the mouth and snapping his teeth together viciously.

“Help me! Save me from the dog!” cried the woman. She was evidently some farmer’s wife who lived in the neighborhood. She had been carrying a basket, but had thrown the article at the dog, in a weak effort to stay his progress.

When the alarm came Jack had one of the rifles in his hand. It was loaded, and now he turned quickly with the weapon.

“Take care! Don’t hit the woman!” began Captain Putnam, when the crack of the weapon cut short his warning. Taking hasty aim, the young major had fired at the mad animal. A yelp followed, the dog leaped high in the air, and then came down and lay still.

“Good! Jack nailed him!” shouted Andy. “A fine shot!”

“Let me see if he is dead,” said Captain Putnam, and catching up another rifle he ran forward, followed by half a dozen cadets. Soon they reached the woman, who was on the point of fainting from fright and from running.

“Is he – he – dead?” she faltered.

“Yes, he is dead,” announced the master of the Hall, making a close examination. “The bullet must have gone straight through his brain.”

“He was mad, wasn’t he?” went on the woman, recovering a bit.

“Beyond a doubt, and very violent, too.”

“He scared me nearly to death. When I first saw him he was tangled up in some old fence-wire. It seemed to have set him crazy. I tried to get away from him, but as soon as he got shut of the wire he came after me.”

“It was lucky that this young man shot him,” said the captain, and pointed at Jack.

“Oh, did he do it?” cried the woman. “I thought you did it.” She turned to the young major. “I am very much obliged, I am sure.”

“And you are welcome,” said Jack, blushing like a girl.

“Whose dog is it?” asked Andy.

“It belongs to Mr. Haverick, the horse-dealer. I suppose it was quite valuable.”

“Let me see – are you not Mrs. Bennington?”

“I am. My husband sold you some wood last winter.”

“Yes, I remember. Well, Mrs. Bennington, I do not know what to do with the dog excepting to have my man bury him.”

“I think we had better let Mr. Haverick see him first. He thought a good deal of the animal. I’ll have my husband tell him.”

“Very well, we’ll leave him where he is then – at least for the present.”

The woman went on her way slowly, and the target practice was resumed. It soon became noised around what Jack had done, and many, including Pepper and Dale, came out to see the slain animal.

“That was all right, Jack!” cried Pepper. “That’s better than hitting the target.”

“I’ve been thinking of something,” said Jack, in a serious tone. “Don’t you remember that horse-dealer we once met on the boat, down at Cedarville?”

“Is that the same chap?”

“I think so. He was very overbearing, and I am afraid he will try to make trouble.”

“Humph! He ought to be very glad that his dog didn’t bite somebody,” answered the Imp.

Dan Baxter had been much disturbed by the appearance of the mad dog, and his nerves were not yet settled. Consequently, when he came up to shoot he only made thirty-three out of a possible fifty points.

“This rifle is no good!” he growled. “It doesn’t shoot straight.”

“It is the rifle I used,” said a student who had made forty-six points.

“And I used it too,” said another, who had made forty-two points.

“I don’t care, it doesn’t shoot straight,” growled the bully.

“You do not hold the rifle just right, Baxter,” said Captain Putnam. “Take it this way,” and he illustrated what he was saying.

Jack was right when he said the horse-dealer, Haverick, would try to make trouble. Early the following morning the man called at the Hall and demanded to see Captain Putnam.

“I understand one of your scholars shot my dog,” said Sam Haverick. His face wore a deep scowl.

“You are Mr. Haverick, the horse-dealer?” questioned the captain, politely.

“I am.”

“Yes, the dog was shot because he was mad and wanted to bite Mrs. Bennington.”

“He wasn’t mad at all! He was playful, that’s all. That dog cost me fifty dollars. Somebody has got to pay for him.”

“I don’t think I shall pay for him,” said the captain, stiffly. “He was mad beyond a doubt, and had to be shot. Had he bitten Mrs. Bennington it might have made a lot of trouble for you.”

“Bah! I say he wasn’t mad. I want pay for the dog.”

“You’ll not get it from me.”

“Then I’ll sue!”

“That is your privilege,” answered Captain Putnam, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “But I don’t think you’ll gain anything by it.”

“And I’ll have the boy who shot the dog arrested,” went on Sam Haverick, roughly.

The man’s manner made the captain angry, and he stiffened up.

“If you do that, sir, I’ll have you arrested also,” he said.

“Me?”

“Yes, – for allowing a mad dog at large.”

The captain’s manner did not suit the horse-dealer. He saw that he could not bulldoze the master of the Hall, and his manner changed.

“Then you ain’t going to pay no damages?”

“Not a cent. I do not think you are entitled to anything. If I thought you were I’d settle in a minute.”

“We’ll see! We’ll see!” grumbled Haverick, and stalked out of the building much discomfited.

As soon as the horse-dealer was gone, Captain Putnam called Jack into his private office and related what had occurred.

“Do not be alarmed, in case he tries to do anything,” said the captain. “I will protect you.”

“Can he do anything?”

“He can make us a little trouble, that is all. He is a foolish man.”

The horse-dealer consulted a lawyer. But the legal light gave him small hope, and he finally concluded that he would not bring suit nor would he have Jack arrested. But he was very bitter, and vowed that sooner or later he would “make Captain Putnam smart, and that young cub of a shooter, too!”

On the following Saturday Jack, Pepper, and Dale went on a long tramp over the hills with George Strong. The teacher was looking for certain botanical specimens, and the boys assisted him all they could. The lads were glad to go out with the second assistant teacher, for his talks were always of interest and profit. By going with him they learned more of botany and geology than they did from their schoolbooks.

“By the way, Mr. Strong,” said Jack, as they were coming home, “have you learned anything more concerning that hidden pot of gold that your ancestors buried during the Revolutionary War?”

“Not a great deal, Ruddy. I have gained what looks like a clew to me. That is, that the pot of gold was buried in the hills some distance to the south of this spot.”

“But you have no idea of the exact location?” said Pepper.

“I have not. If I had I’d certainly go and dig for it.” And George Strong gave a short laugh.

“When you get time you ought to organize a regular treasure hunt,” put in Dale.

“I’ve been thinking of that. But I do not like to waste time on a wild-goose chase,” answered the teacher.

“What has become of those crazy men, Bart Callax and Paul Shaff?”

“I believe they are still out west, under the care of a distant relative.”

“I suppose you don’t want to meet them again,” said Jack.

“No, never!” said George Strong, with a shiver. He had not yet forgotten his terrible experience with his insane relatives.

The party of four had made a long detour and were returning to the Hall by a route that was somewhat new to them. They had a large hill to cross, the other side of which was filled with thick trees growing among some large rocks.

“This is wild enough for anything,” said Pepper. “I didn’t know there was any ground around here so rough.”

“Be careful that you don’t sprain an ankle,” cautioned the teacher.

“Hullo, what’s this?” cried Dale, coming to a sudden halt.

“A cave!” ejaculated Pepper. “A regular cave,” he added, peering into the opening.

“Let’s explore it,” said Jack. “We’ve got time enough.”

George Strong was willing, and a minute later the exploration of the cave began.

CHAPTER XVII

IN THE CAVE

The cave was an irregular one of uncertain depth. The opening lay under a big, jagged rock, with other rocks on either side. One after another they passed into the underground chamber without much trouble.

“It’s rather dark,” said Jack. “Hadn’t we better light a torch?”

“By all means,” said the teacher, and went out and got a pine branch. This burnt very well, although it made quite some smoke. They advanced with caution, for the cave was not very high and nobody wanted to strike his head on the sharp rocks above. In some places the tree-roots hung down like so many snakes.

“By the way, I wonder if there are any snakes in here?” observed Dale, when from under a rock glided a reptile about two feet long, followed by another a trifle smaller. Dale let out a yell and retreated, and so did the other boys.

“They are harmless,” called out George Strong. “They are common wood-snakes. See, they have crawled out of sight already. They are more scared than you are.”

“I must say I hate snakes,” said Jack. “I am willing to leave them alone if only they will leave me alone.”

“The trouble is, most folks know very little about snakes,” said the teacher. “Why, a snake can be made a great pet, just like a cat or a dog, or a bird. Many snake-charmers really make pets of their snakes.”

“Excuse me, I’d rather have a dog or a bird any day,” said Dale.

“Or even an old tomcat,” put in Pepper.

The cave was not very wide, indeed it seemed to be merely a split in the rocks and dirt. In one spot the tree-roots were so thick the party had to literally force its way along.

“Be careful,” came in a warning from George Strong. “Don’t get stuck so tight that you can’t get out again.”

“I’ll look out for that,” said Pepper who was in advance.

Presently they reached a spot where the cave divided into three parts. At the bottom of one part flowed a spring of clear, cold water.

“This is fine!” declared Dale, after taking a drink.

“Look out that you don’t swallow a lizard,” said Jack.

“I can tell you what,” declared Pepper, gazing around by the light of the smoky torch, “this would make quite a retreat if it was cleaned out.”

At last they could go no further and began to retrace their steps. At one point they had to crawl over some rocks and under some tree-roots.

“Wonder if I can push the tree up?” cried Dale, by way of a joke, and pressed upward with his back.

“Take care!” cried George Strong, “You may loosen something and get hurt.”

“The rock is shifting!” yelled Jack. “Look out!”

There was a grinding, and all saw that a rock above them was settling down. The teacher, Jack, and Pepper ran in one direction and Dale in another.

An awful noise followed, and the loose dirt flew in all directions. For a minute all were greatly confused.

“Are you boys hurt?” was the first question asked by the assistant teacher.

“I’m all right,” said Pepper.

“So am I,” added Jack.

“Where is Dale?”

“He slipped back, the way he had come.”

“Dale! Dale!” shouted the teacher. No answer came back to the summons.

“Perhaps he was killed!” gasped Pepper.

“Oh, don’t say that,” came from Jack. “Dale! Dale!” he went on loudly.

Still there was no answer, and now all became thoroughly alarmed. George Strong moved over to the rock that had fallen and examined it with care.

“I don’t believe he is under this,” he said. “But he may be caught in some way on the other side.”

“How are we to get at him?” was the question from Pepper.

The torch was dying down and Jack had to work his way out of the cave and find a new pine bough for a light.