.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 52610
   :PG.Title: Ward Hill the Senior
   :PG.Released: 2016-07-21
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Everett \T. Tomlinson
   :DC.Title: Ward Hill the Senior
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1897
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

====================
WARD HILL THE SENIOR
====================

.. clearpage::

.. pgheader::

.. container:: titlepage center white-space-pre-line

   .. vspace:: 4

   .. class:: xx-large bold

      Ward Hill
      *the* Senior

   .. vspace:: 2

   .. class:: medium

      *BY*

   .. class:: medium

      EVERETT \T. TOMLINSON

   .. class:: medium

      *Author of*
      The Ward Hill Series
      The Blue and Buff Series
      The Winner Series
      Etc.

   .. vspace:: 3

   .. class:: medium

      The
      GOLDSMITH
      Publishing Company
      Cleveland, Ohio

   .. class:: small

      Made in U.S.A.

   .. vspace:: 4

.. container:: verso center white-space-pre-line

   .. class:: small

      Copyright 1897 by
      A. J. ROWLAND

   .. class:: small

      Published
      1928 by
      The Goldsmith Publishing Co.

   .. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center large bold

   PREFACE

.. vspace:: 2

A school has been very correctly termed a little
world of itself.  Within it the temptations and
struggles and triumphs are as real as those in the
larger world outside.  They differ in form, not in
character, and become for many a man the foundation
upon which later success or failure has been
built.

It is perhaps wise for me to explain that the boys
whose lives in the Weston school have been outlined
in this book are "real" boys, and that every fact
recorded actually occurred much as it has been
described.  If the results of the struggles and successes
shall prove to be a stimulus to other boys who may
be facing similar problems, and if the failures shall
serve the purpose of a warning word and teach
the younger readers what things are to be avoided
and how they are to be overcome, the author will
certainly feel well repaid for his labor.

Unfolding life is ever a marvelous sight, and the
interest with which we follow those who are trending
now the paths once familiar to us never fails
those still young in heart while old in years.

The recently developed interest in the work and
lives of the younger people, is one of the marvels
of this closing century.  Greater than any of the
discoveries of science, nobler than any of the great
movements of the times is that renewed interest
in the possibilities of the young life all about us,
undeveloped it is true, but filled with the promise
of power.

So many times our eyes are opened when it is
too late to behold the vision.  We may preach, and
warn, and urge, and exhort, and scold, but nothing
will take the place of actual experience.  It is
natural for each young heart to wish to learn and test
life for itself.

However, I am not without hope, that the friendship
and sympathy for Ward Hill and his friends
may not be entirely without their unspoken lessons,
and that before my readers there may arise for each
one the vision of the man who is yet to be.

When all our platitudes are ignored or forgotten
it is still true that youth is the seed-sowing time,
and what a man sows, as well as the measure of his
sowing, determines the character and the abundance
of the harvest he will reap.  We do well, then, to
strive at least to scatter the seed at the time when
the seed can be sown.  The soils may vary, the seed
is the same.

I trust that the interest, the pride, the sorrow, and
pleasure which the writer has felt, as he has followed
the courses of these boys, may in a degree, at least,
be shared by his readers, and also may not be entirely
without their effects in inspiring a desire to
profit by their examples.

.. vspace:: 1

Elizabeth, N. J.

.. vspace:: 1

EVERETT T. TOMLINSON.

.. vspace:: 4

.. class:: center large bold

   CONTENTS

.. class:: noindent small

CHAPTER

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

I.  `Waiting`_
II.  `Ward Hill's Decision`_
III.  `Mr. Crane's Examination`_
IV.  `A Call for Help`_
V.  `A Warning`_
VI.  `The Beginning of the Struggle`_
VII.  `The Troubles are Increased`_
VIII.  `Perplexity`_
IX.  `An Interview with Jack`_
X.  `The Scene in Ripley's Room`_
XI.  `Jack Hobart's Project`_
XII.  `Mr. Crane's Words`_
XIII.  `A Faithful Friend`_
XIV.  `Ward Humbles Himself`_
XV.  `Outside Lessons`_
XVI.  `The Beginning of the Great Game`_
XVII.  `The End of the Great Game`_
XVIII.  `A Puzzling Question`_
XIX.  `Jack's Sermon`_
XX.  `Down West Hill`_
XXI.  `The Arrow and the Swallow`_
XXII.  `The Mishap of the Arrow`_
XXIII.  `The Investigation`_
XXIV.  `Unexpected Visitors`_
XXV.  `Jack Hobart's Proposition`_
XXVI.  `Conclusion`_

.. vspace:: 4

.. _`WAITING`:

.. class:: center x-large bold

   WARD HILL THE SENIOR

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER I

.. class:: center medium bold

   WAITING

.. vspace:: 2

The little station at Rockford was the scene of
the customary bustle and stir which appear in
most country villages just before the arrival of the
"afternoon train."  The village idlers were
assembled for the little break which came in the dull
routine of the day.  The shrill whistle of the
approaching locomotive always brought a slight thrill
in the hearts of these stolid watchers, as if
something in the stir of the great region beyond their
horizon was coming, if but for a moment; and when
the train departed, so long as the cloud of smoke
and dust remained behind it, it served to quicken
the dull minds by the suggestions of the possibilities
that lay in that unknown world so far away.

Doubtless the village idlers (the busy people of
the little town had another term by which they
called them) never realized that it was their
imaginations to which the arrival of the morning and
afternoon trains appealed, and yet it was that very
faculty which was daily stirred, and for the
arousing of which they waited with all the eagerness with
which a toper is said to long for his morning dram.
There was the excitement of waiting for the locomotive's
shriek and the first puff of smoke that marked
the approach of the cars in the distance, and this
was followed by the departure, which left them in a
state of curiosity and suspense, not entirely unlike
that which the old Greek dramas imparted to the
breathless audiences that followed them in their vast
theatres.  Then too there were the few passengers
who were soon to leave Rockford, as well as the
people who were waiting for the arrival of friends;
and as a matter of course the ever-present small
boy was very much in evidence, and as he "walked
the rails" or leaped across the track, his delight
seemed to be increased by the warning word which
some one of the assembly occasionally gave him.
At frequent intervals some farmer would drive up
to the pen which joined the freight house, and with
ungentle hands roughly push out the calves he had
brought in his great wagon-box, and compel them
to join the bleating herd soon to be carried away
to the great city.  Their piteous cries could be
constantly heard by the waiting people, but they
attracted little attention, although some occasionally
expressed their disgust and anger at the brutal
methods, which are all too common, of supplying the
toiling people of the great cities with their meat.
The thoughts of the coming train however, which
now as usual was twenty minutes behind time, did
not apparently permit any one long to dwell upon
the sufferings, present or prospective, of the brute
creation.  They were all too eager for the "afternoon
train" to come.

Among those who were waiting was Ward Hill.
Apparently he was taking but little interest in what
was going on about him.  He nodded or quietly
responded to the greetings he received from the
waiting people, but that was all.  Back and forth
along the gravel path which led across the country
road to the station, he walked, but he seldom took
his eyes from the distant bend in the road where
the smoke of the coming locomotive, he was well
aware, would first appear.  For Ward was expecting
a friend to arrive by that same "afternoon train."
Early that morning he had received a telegram, a
most unusual experience in his life.  Even now he
could feel the thrill as he tore open the yellow
envelope and read the words:

.. vspace:: 2

Am coming on afternoon train.  Meet me at the
station.  SPECK.

.. vspace:: 2

Once more he took the message from his pocket
and re-read it.  He smiled as he placed it again in
his coat and a softer expression came over his face.
However the other boys in that far-away Weston
school might feel toward him, Speck, or John Hobart,
as his name had appeared in the catalogue, at least
was true to him.

"Dear old Speck," thought Ward, as a vision of
the school and his experiences there in the preceding
year rose before his mind.  And yet it was evident
that the recollection was not entirely pleasing.  To
Ward it had largely been a year of failure.  He
thought of his own high hopes when he had entered,
and then the picture of his gradual but sure descent
could not be forgotten.  How he had neglected his
work and been drawn into the company of those
who were no credit to the school, to their parents,
or to themselves!  How he had failed at the very
time when he had been most eager to show what
he could do!  He had won no prize, had failed in the
final examinations, and by his one attempt to do
right, had incurred the anger of "the fellows," and
at last had departed from Weston feeling very like
an outcast.  The bright spots had been the friendship
of Jack Hobart, and the strong confidence which
Mr. Crane, the teacher of Latin, had expressed in
his ability to recover himself and in a measure make
good the time he had lost.  All summer long that
final interview with Mr. Crane had been his inspiration,
and Ward had worked faithfully in his endeavor
to make up the work he had lost.

There had been times when he had felt that he
must give it all up.  The days when his friend
Henry Boyd and some of his companions had come
for him to go with them sailing down the bay and
out along the shore of the ocean, which he could
see every morning from the window of his room
in his father's house, had been the most difficult
for him, but somehow he had roused himself and
kept steadily at his task.  Then too, there had been
days when the sun had been almost like a ball of
fire, and the very air he breathed had seemed almost
like the hot breath of a furnace, and it had required
the exertion of all his will power to continue at
his studies.  And will power had never been Ward
Hill's strongest point.

His father had not spoken to him all summer long
concerning his work, for he had gently informed
Ward, at the close of his disastrous year at Weston,
that the future lay entirely with him.  He was
willing to do his utmost for the boy whom he loved, but
he never should insist now upon his return.  If he
made up his work and desired to go on, he would
sacrifice and do his utmost for him, but as for sending
him when he himself had no desire to go--that was
an impossibility.

Ward had felt the justice of his father's words,
but his heart had been none the less hungry for the
words of encouragement which were not spoken.
He little realized how difficult it had been for his
father to remain silent, and with what tender
solicitude he had watched the course of his only boy; but
Mr. Hill had been governed largely by the advice
of his friend, Dr. Gray, the head of the Weston
school, who had keenly realized the crisis which had
come in the lad's life.  The issues of life have
always to be settled by us alone, and all the advice
and sympathy of the very best of our friends can
never take the place of that decision and exertion
which must come, if ever success is to be won, from
the individual soul itself.

And Ward had done his best.  All summer long
he had kept steadily at his task.  An occasional letter
from Mr. Crane had given him some encouragement
at the time when he had needed it most; for there
was no man whom he respected more and none, with
the single exception of his own father--whom Ward,
in spite of his failures, dearly loved--for whom he
cherished a stronger feeling of affection.  After all,
perhaps Ward Hill was learning what we all come
to know sooner or later, that there is no such thing
as a genuine love which does not have a feeling of
deep respect as its basis.

And yet what a summer it had been!  It had
brought almost no pleasure to him.  The other boys
had been free to come and go as they chose, but for
Ward there was only the steady grind of work--work
which was all unnecessary he knew, for if he
had only been reasonably faithful to his duties in
the school, he too might have had the summer to
spend as every vacation ought to be spent.  For him
there had been no sailing parties, no fishing trips,
nothing but the hard and steady work.  Even his
friend Henry Boyd had soon let him alone when he
saw that Ward was not inclined to join with his
companions in the sports of the summer days.

Ward had been almost inclined to blame his friend
for his neglect, although he well knew he was himself
the only one at fault; but then that is a tendency
which seems to be in the hearts of us all.  It is
almost always some one else who is at fault, we
fondly believe, for our own shortcomings and
failures.  Few of us have the moral courage to look
squarely at ourselves and to call everything by its
proper name.  However, Ward had not cherished
any ill will, and perhaps smarting under the sense
of his failures, had preferred to be let alone.

He glanced up at the pastures that stretched away
beyond the station at Rockford.  How the grass had
withered and curled beneath the influence of the hot
August sun!  A fitting picture, he thought, of his
own summer vacation.  All his plans had been
thwarted and every hope blasted by the failure he
had made at Weston.  The fields all parched and
sere seemed something like his own life.  And Ward
felt quite like a youthful misanthrope, only it is
likely he had never heard that word used, or never
had thought of its meaning.

But July had gone and the most of August had
now passed.  The time when he must return to
Weston, if he returned at all, would soon be at hand.
And Ward Hill had not yet fully decided that
question.  There were times when he thought he
certainly would go back and redeem himself, but when
he thought of the unpopularity which had overtaken
him near the close of the year, and of what he must
face if he should return, his heart almost failed him,
and it seemed to the troubled boy as if he never
could enter Weston again.  The only source of
comfort he had was the knowledge that the work at last
had been completed and he felt reasonably sure
of his ability to pass the examination in which he
had failed, and now could go on with his class in
case he decided to enter the school again.

His thoughts were interrupted by the distant
whistle of the engine, and the far-away cloud of
smoke and dust proclaimed the approach of the
train.

In a moment signs of life began to appear about
the little station.  The man who for years had
carried the mails picked up the mail pouch and
approached the place where he knew by long experience
the mail car would stop.  The station-master
put on his cap, his sole badge of office, the small boys
ceased from their antics, those who were to leave
Rockford gathered up their bags and bundles, and
all came out from the station and stood waiting for
the approaching train.

Ward too was thoroughly interested now, and took
his stand a little apart from the crowd.  On came
the rumbling cars, gradually slackening their speed,
and at last directly in front of him they came to a
rest, the locomotive still puffing as though to add its
part to the little station's excitement.

And there was Jack, standing upon the platform
and gazing eagerly about him for his friend.  In a
moment he spied him, and flinging his traveling bag
before him upon the ground, he leaped lightly from
the platform and made a dash for Ward.

In a moment he had flung his arm about the neck
of his friend and was shaking him eagerly by the
hand.  Ward, who was a somewhat reserved lad and
never very demonstrative in his displays of affection,
instead of feeling somewhat abashed by the exuberance
of his friend, was greatly touched, and for a
moment his eyes were filled with tears.  Jack was so
different from all the boys he had ever known.  No
matter what he might say or do, no one could take
any exception to him.

"I say, Ward," said Jack eagerly, "this is the
best sight my poor old eyes have looked upon all
summer.  You don't know how I have looked forward
to this day and how glad I am to see you."

"And I am just as glad to see you," said Ward,
returning the pressure of his friend's hand.

"Glad?  Well, I should say!  That's a fine word
to use in welcoming your long-lost friend and
brother after he's taken the dirtiest ride he ever took
in his life, and all just to look into your eyes
again.  Glad?  Why don't you say you're teetotally
overcome, so to speak.  Say you're wild with
joy and you 'would that your tongue could utter the
thoughts that arise in you.'  Isn't that what the
doctor used to say was the proper thing in our
English class?"

"I believe so," replied Ward, laughing more
heartily than he had all summer.

"Well, say it then!  It seems to me you're trying
to put it that you would that your tongue could
stammer the thoughts that surge up in your
massive brain.  Why the very calves of Rockford are
glad I've come," he added, as there came a louder
blast of lamenting from the pen.  "I say, Ward, what
are they there for?  Are they calves which you have
specially fattened up for the return of the prodigal?"

"They're fatter now than they will ever be again,
I'm afraid," said Ward smiling.

"It was mighty kind of you to have a whole yard
full waiting for me.  I didn't expect to have but
one.  But, then, that's always the way with Ward
Hill.  He's capable of doing a heap more than he
ever lets on.  But I say, old fellow, you don't know
how glad I am to see you.  It's driven every freckle
on my face out of sight."

And the impulsive Speck again held his friend out
at arm's length and gave him a look in which all
his boyish love seemed to find expression.

Ward picked up his friend's traveling bag and
together the boys started up the quaint winding
street of the old village, on their way to his home,
Jack meanwhile chattering on of all his summer
experiences, and of what he had heard from the other
boys.

"Here we are!" he shouted as they came in sight
of Ward's home.  "It's just the same, only better
than it was.  Hold on a minute, Ward," he added as
they stopped by the gate.  "I've got one thing to
say to you, and I want to say it right now.  You're
going back to Weston, aren't you?  Your letters
haven't been very satisfactory, and I must know.
Tell me.  Tell me, quick!"

"I don't know," replied Ward evasively.  "We'll
talk about that later.  Here's mother waiting for
you."

The boys turned quickly and walking rapidly up
the flower-bordered path were warmly welcomed by
Mrs. Hill, and then at once entered the house.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`WARD HILL'S DECISION`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER II


.. class:: center medium bold

   WARD HILL'S DECISION

.. vspace:: 2

After dinner that same evening Henry Boyd came
over and joined them, and for a long time the three
boys sat on the vine-shielded piazza and talked about
the experiences of the preceding year at Weston.
At times their laughter could have been heard far
up the street, for Jack Hobart was not one to permit
quiet long to reign where he was.

Ward's father and mother, who had not remained
with the boys after they saw that the conversation
had turned to school topics, were none the less
rejoiced at the change which the coming of Jack
wrought in their boy.  His laugh was the merriest
of the three, and for a time it seemed as if the gloom
which had rested over Ward all summer long had
disappeared.

"I've heard from lots of the fellows," Jack was
saying, "and I can tell you we're going to have the
best year at Weston we have ever seen.  Why, even
Tim Pickard is coming back."

"Tim?" said Henry quickly, "Why, I thought he
had been expelled and never could come back again."

"Oh, Tim's made it all up with Dr. Gray.  He's
seen the error of his ways and wants to turn over a
new leaf.  He's promised all sorts of things and
has been studying hard with a tutor.  I really think
Tim means what he says too.  He's not such a bad
fellow, you know, after all.  He's had too much
money and his mother's dead, you know, and so
there was no one to look after him besides his father,
and he was too much interested in stocks and things
to give any attention to his own flesh and blood.
I believe he has written some such stuff to the
doctor and promises to do his part too in looking after
Tim.  He's even said he'd see to it that Tim shall
have only a dollar a week for spending money.
Poor Tim!" added Jack with a laugh.

"If he'll only keep it up," said Henry soberly.

"Yes, if he'll only keep it up," repeated Jack.
"That's the rub, I know.  Tim means what he says
now; no doubt about that.  He's even going to take
a room alone down at Ma Perrins', so that he'll be
out of the way of temptation and me."  And Jack's
merry laugh rang out at the words.  "Honestly, I
don't know about his holding out though.  I have
my own opinion about that, but I don't mean to
prophesy evil of any fellow.  And then Tim's going
to have some things in his favor you must remember.
For example, he'll be out from under the influence
of your humble servant, and that's no small
thing, I'd have you know."

A silence for a brief time followed Jack's words.
Ward felt that Jack in his words about Tim Pickard
was really taking that means to inform him of some
of the problems which would face him upon his
return to Weston.  That is, if he should return, for
Ward was not yet decided as to what he would do.

Tim Pickard had been his most bitter enemy.  Even
now he could see his coarse face and hear his brutal
laugh.  Could he ever go back and face him?  The
very peacefulness of Rockford came out just then
the stronger by way of contrast with the difficulties
he would have to face in the school.  The croaking
of the distant frogs rose on the air, the fireflies
were flitting about in the yard, and the soft mellow
light of the moon was beginning to appear.  It was
the very perfection of quiet and peace.  Here there
were no "Tangs," no Tim Pickards, no enmities and
jealousies; while the presence of his father and
mother seemed to him like a shield from everything
that was evil.  It was so much more easy to keep
out of trouble in Rockford than it was in Weston.
And yet Ward knew that both his father and mother
were intensely eager for him to return to the school
and redeem himself.  Which was better for him, to
go back and face all the possible temptations and
difficulties of the school life, or to remain where
he was and be free from them all?  In his heart
Ward knew the answer.  To remain in Rockford
would be virtually playing the part of a coward.  He
would not have to meet and struggle with certain
forms of evil there, but it would be a confession that
he was afraid.  He would lose more than he would
gain, there could be no doubt as to that, but the
struggle to decide was no easy matter.

Ward Hill had not yet learned the lesson that
whether we do right or wrong depends far more
upon ourselves than upon our surroundings.  He
might remain away from all his troubles, and yet
he would also stay away from all that would aid
him also.  At first Ward had pleaded that he might
be permitted to go to some other school, but his
father had been firm upon that point.  He had told
Ward that he would do his utmost and his best for
him, but if the lad wished to go on with his studies
it must be at Weston and no other place for the
coming year.  And Ward had realized the justice
and truth of his father's demand, and had hot
again urged his request.

"I say, fellows," said Jack, breaking in upon the
silence, "whom do you suppose I saw this summer?"

"I can't imagine," said Henry.  "Perhaps it was
Big Smith."

"Good guess, Henry.  It was that same and no
other.  Yes, sir; I was with my family up in the
country, and it seems it was right where Big Smith
lived, but I'd forgotten all about it, if I ever knew.
Well, one day I was walking down the street of the
city--it's a place about the size of Rockford, you
know--and there I came upon his majesty as big as
life, yes, as big as Big Smith.  He made a great
time over me, beat Ward's reception all to pieces, if
he did have all the fatted calves in the country out
to greet me upon my arrival."

"Was he the same at home that he was in Western?"
inquired Ward.

"Yes, just the same, only different.  He had the
same pompous way with him, but I tell you, fellows,
Big Smith isn't so bad after all.  He's just one of
those chaps that's been spoiled by living in a little
place, where everybody thought he was a great
man because he'd once been away to school.  He'd
never had a fair chance to size himself up, so to
speak, and when he got with a crowd of fellows he
didn't know just what to make of it when they didn't
all fall down before him."

Jack suddenly stopped, realizing then for the first
time what he had said.  Both of his companions
were from a little place too, which he had just
declared was not unlike Big Smith's home.  Perhaps
they too had suffered somewhat from the same cause
which had brought about Big Smith's unpopularity.
Ward, at least, realized in a measure the truth of
Jack's words as applied to himself, and he felt his
cheeks burn.  But the dusk hid him from the sight
of his companions and he said nothing.

"You know, of course, you fellows," said Jack,
striving to break a part of the force of his own
words, as he felt rather than saw that an
unfortunate turn in the conversation had arisen, "that
I don't mean that Big Smith's ever had any such
homes as you have.  He's had all the disadvantages
without the advantages you have here, and you have
all the advantages without his disadvantages.  I
don't think you fellows half appreciate what you've
got here.  But Big Smith's a horse of another color.
And yet I never saw such a change come over a
fellow in my life as there has in him.  I couldn't
hardly believe my own ears when I heard him talk."

"Why, what did he say?" said Ward quietly.

"Well, he told me about a talk he had with
Mr. Crane before he left Weston, or it may have been
a talk Mr. Crane had with him--I'm not sure which
it was.  It seems that Mr. Crane sent for him and
they had a long confab.  Mr. Crane got him to talking
about himself, and finally led him on until he had
expressed his opinion about some of the other
fellows too.  Finally, after he'd told of some things
one of the other boys had done, Mr. Crane turned
to him and said in that abrupt way of his, 'Smith,
that fellow is making a fool of himself, isn't he?'
Big Smith fell into the trap and I can hear his
graveyard voice as he said, 'Yes, he is, and a big
one too.'  Upon that Mr. Crane jumped up out of
his chair and looking Big Smith squarely in the face
said, 'Well, Smith, that's just what you are doing
too!'  And then he turned and walked straight out
of the room.  Big Smith laughed while he was
telling me all about it, and said he was never cut up
about anything so in all his life, but he'd been
thinking of it all summer, and had about made up his
mind that Mr. Crane had the right of it.  Why,
fellows, I almost gasped for breath.  Think of Big
Smith getting off anything like that.  It doesn't
seem possible to me even now.  Why, if Big Smith
can reform there's a chance for Tim Pickard, and
there must be for me."

"Then he's going back to Weston, is he?" inquired
Henry.

"Yes, sir, and he says he's going to make Ward
and you just bestir yourselves or he will come up
to you."

"That won't be very much of a task, so far as
I'm concerned," said Henry; "but if he overtakes
Ward, he'll have to rise somewhat earlier in the
morning than he has been accustomed to do."

Ward said nothing.  He was thinking of that
conversation Jack had reported as having taken place
between Big Smith and Mr. Crane.  Perhaps he
himself was the very one of whom Big Smith had
made the remark that he had 'been making a fool of
himself.'  And it was true; that was the worst thing
about it.  He had played the fool, for a lad of any
brains at all would never have done as he had, he
thought bitterly.

"Did you see Pond?  You know he lives in the
same place in which Big Smith does," said Henry.

"No, I didn't see him," replied Jack; "but I hear
he's off working somewhere.  At least that's what
Big Smith said.  I hope he'll come back; he's one
of the very best fellows in the Weston school."

"That he is," said Ward eagerly; "but he's not
coming back before Christmas, if he does then."

"Why not?  Have you heard from him?" inquired Jack.

"Yes, he's written me two or three times.  He's
the only fellow I've heard from, except Jack here
and Mr. Crane, though he isn't exactly a fellow."

"Oh, yes he is.  Mr. Crane's one of the best
fellows I ever met, if he does call me up and set me
down hard in the Latin room," said Jack with a
laugh.  "What did Pond write you?"

"He wrote me that he'd have to stay out for the
first term and try to earn some money.  His younger
brother is coming though."

"That will be Big Pond and Little Pond then,"
said Jack.  "I wonder whether the fresh Pond is as
good a ball player as Big Pond is?  We want to fix
the Burrs this fall."

"I don't believe he's as much good as that," said
Ward, "because his brother has written me that he's
a slight, delicate little chap, and he wants me to
take him under my wing till he himself comes back."

"Couldn't be under better, my boy, couldn't be
under better," said Jack.  "But I don't want his
coming to interfere with one of the plans I've made."

"What's that?" inquired Ward.

"Why, I want you to room with me.  You see, I'll
be left all alone now that Tim's going down to Ma
Perrins.  I need your feathers to cover me a good
deal more than Little Pond ever could."

Jack spoke eagerly and his strong desire was
clearly apparent in his words.  Ward was deeply
touched, but after a brief hesitation, he said
slowly: "No, Jack, I can't do it.  I hope you don't feel
hurt, or think it's because I don't want to.  But I've
been thinking it all over, as we've been sitting here.
At first I didn't see how I could go back to Weston,
anyhow.  I thought I'd go up just to pass my
examinations and clear up last year's work, but since
you've been talking here I've decided to go back, and
pitch into the work and do my level best."

"Good for you, Ward Hill!" said Jack eagerly,
springing up from the steps of the piazza upon
which he had been seated, and slapping his friend
delightedly upon the back.  "Good for you!  Why,
do you know that's just what I came up here for?  I
was so afraid you weren't going to come that I just
couldn't stand it, so I put straight for Rockford.  Of
course I'm sorry you aren't willing to room with
your humble servant, though I don't know as I can
find it in my heart to blame you for that.  The
other thing's so good though, that I'm not going
to shed a tear.  We'll do up the Burrs in fine style
now."

"Hear me out," said Ward quietly.  "I think I'd
better go straight back just as I was, and if Henry
here doesn't mind, I'd like to go in with him and
take the same old room in West Hall and make a
fresh start.  If Henry doesn't feel like doing that,
that will change matters a bit."

"I'm only too glad to do it," said Henry warmly.
He said nothing about Ward's declining Jack's
offer for he thought he understood exactly how he
felt about it.  He was so rejoiced over Ward's
decision to return that he was eager to do all in his
power to aid him now.

"That fixes it, then," said Jack enthusiastically.
"Come, fellows, let's let off one of the school
yells!"  The three arose and gave the Weston cheer together.

The noise brought Ward's father and mother to
the door, and as they appeared Jack shouted:
"Ward's going back with us, Mrs. Hill!  He's going
to room with Henry and we'll whip the Burrs and
lead the class and do all sorts of things!"

The Hill household was a happy one that night.
Ward's decision had wonderfully pleased his father
and mother, and he himself was surprised at the
relief which had come to him.  Better than ever
before he realized that it meant a severe struggle
for him, but the present weight at least was lifted
from his heart, and in the joy which comes from
facing and overcoming a difficult problem, Ward Hill
was happier than he had been for many weeks past.

On the following day the three boys had a sail
on the bay, and then the "afternoon train" carried
Jack out of Rockford.

"Never mind fattening up any more calves for
me!" he called from his place on the rear platform
of the last car.  "It's all right and I'll see you in
a few days at Weston!"

Two weeks later, just as the sun disappeared
behind the western hills, Ward and Henry alighted
from the coach in Weston as it stopped before the
entrance to West Hall, and running lightly up the
stairway, soon entered "seventeen," the same room
in which they had begun their experiences of the
preceding year.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`MR. CRANE'S EXAMINATION`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER III


.. class:: center medium bold

   MR. CRANE'S EXAMINATION

.. vspace:: 2

Along with all the excitement attending the return
of the boys to the school there was a feeling of
depression in Ward's heart which he could not
entirely shake off.  The walls of the room seemed more
bare than they did in the preceding year, and the
undefined dread of meeting his former companions
pressed heavily upon him, now that he found himself
once more in the old familiar place and under
the necessity of facing not only them but himself as
well.

The cloud which had rested upon him when he
left Weston, while it had never disappeared, had
nevertheless been somewhat dim and hazy when
he had been away from it all, and had had the
presence of his father and mother to strengthen
him; but now he was alone, and all his former
feelings returned.  How long it would be before he
would see Rockford again!  And what experiences
were likely to be his before the fall term was
ended.

Heavy as his heart was, however, Ward did not
refer to his feelings, but busied himself in
arranging the few articles of furniture which comprised
their possessions, and soon the room took on its old
and familiar appearance.  Up the stairs and through
the halls the other boys were rushing, and the sound
of the heavy trunks as they were deposited in the
rooms could be continually heard.  Their own door
was closed and no one entered to disturb them, a fact
over which Ward secretly rejoiced, for he was dreading
far more than he cared to express, his first meeting
with his fellows.

"There," said Henry at last, "I don't see that
we can do anything more to-night.  I think we'd
better go over and report to the doctor now, don't you?"

"Yes," said Ward gloomily.  "It's got to be done,
and the sooner it's over the better."

Henry glanced keenly at his friend, but made no
further response, and in a few moments the boys
left West Hall and went over to Dr. Gray's house.
The reception room seemed to be almost filled with
boys and their parents, and Ward was surprised
as he noted that many were evidently new-comers.

As he took his seat he busied himself for a time
in carefully observing his companions and it was
not long before he had satisfied himself that among
the new arrivals he would find some who would be
congenial to himself.  His thoughts and observations
were both interrupted by the entrance of the
principal, who at once advanced and shook the hands
of Ward and Henry, and after they had delivered the
letter they had brought, they quickly departed.

As they came out again into the broad, shaded
street, Ward determined to carry out a plan he had
formed, which was nothing less than to seek out
Mr. Crane at once, and ascertain when his
examination upon the work in which he had failed was
to take place.  He said nothing concerning it to
Henry, however, and merely remarking that he
would soon be back in the room, turned and
abruptly left his chum.

As he walked slowly over toward East Hall, the
building over which Mr. Crane had charge and in
which he had his room, his feeling of anxiety
increased.  Perhaps after all he would be unable to
pass his examination.  He had worked faithfully all
summer long and had felt confident when he left
home that he could easily make up the lost work,
but now that the testing time had come all his fears
returned.  There was one thing certain any way, he
thought, and that was if he should succeed in
passing Mr. Crane's tests now, never again would he
be found in such a predicament.  He thought again
of the teacher's words about its being so much more
easy to keep up than to catch up.

"He's right," said Ward aloud.  "He's right.  He
always is.  I almost wish Mr. Crane would let me
room with him.  I think I could do right there so
much more easily."

He smiled as he thought of the suggestion and
realized how absurd it was.  After all, if he could
room with the man whom he so highly respected and
loved, would he be any better for it?  It would be
Mr. Crane's "right" and not his.  No, he must brace
himself to meet his problems himself.  Ward Hill's
future lay in Ward Hill's hands.

Just then he came around the bend in the path
and East Hall was right before him.  From every
window a light was streaming, and it was evident
that there was to be no lack of boys at Weston this
year.  Now and then a burst of laughter could be
heard, and occasionally the words of a song rose on
the still air.  The building seemed to be teeming
with life and spirits, and somehow in the presence
of it all Ward felt a wave of lonesomeness
sweeping over him.  The East Hall boys all had good
rooms, plenty of money, and no lack of friends.  His
own room seemed to him bare and chill; money he
knew he must use sparingly; and as for friends, he
did not know whether any besides Jack and Henry
were left for him among the boys of the Weston
school.

He was now by the stone steps which led up to
the first hall, and Mr. Crane's room was the first
one on the left.  Summoning all his courage, Ward
resolutely approached the door and rapped.

It was opened by Mr. Crane himself, and as he
quickly recognized the lad standing before him, he
held forth his hand and said cordially: "Why, Hill,
I'm delighted to see you.  Come in."

Ward entered and seated himself in the chair
indicated by his teacher.  He was in almost the
very same place where he had been ten weeks
before, and all the memories of that scene came
pressing back upon him.  The recollection was not
over-pleasing, and the troubled boy was hardly able to
speak.  He had thought many times of the very
words he would use when he first saw Mr. Crane
again, but they were gone from him now.

Mr. Crane, apparently not noticing Ward's
embarrassment, began to speak of the experiences of
the summer.

"I took a long tramp among the Northern hills,"
he said.  "It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience
to me.  I was alone the most of the time, and
more than once I wished that you were with me.
I think you would have enjoyed it, and I knew that
I did."

Ward listened as Mr. Crane went on with his
descriptions, and for a moment almost forgot the
purpose of his visit.  Soon it all came back, however,
and unable to restrain himself longer, he broke
out with the words:

"I know I should have enjoyed it, Mr. Crane, but
I didn't have just that kind of a summer.  I spent
every forenoon in going over my work.  I only had
two days off all summer long, and yet I've not felt
so bad as I thought I should.  At least I don't now,
for I think I can pass up on my examinations; that
is, if they're no harder than those you gave at
the end of the year."

"They'll be no harder," replied Mr. Crane, with
a smile.  "Now tell me about the work you've done."

And Ward entered into a detailed account of all
the studying he had done during the summer vacation.

Mr. Crane listened attentively, occasionally
interrupting to ask some question that occurred to
him, and at last when the troubled lad had finished
his story, he quietly said:

"And now you think that you can pass any
examination I can give you on the work?"

"Hardly that," said Ward quickly; "but I do
think, Mr. Crane, that I can pass any examination
which isn't any tougher--I mean harder--than the
one you gave the class last June."

"Very well, Hill, I shall take your word for it.
You ought to know as much about it as any one,
and if you think you understand the work, I'm
satisfied."

"I don't understand you," faltered Ward.  "What
do you mean?"

"Just what I said, Hill.  All I want of an examination
is to satisfy myself that a boy can go on
with his class.  From what you have told me of your
studying, and from what I know of you, I am satisfied
you can do that, and that is all I want.  Of
course I shall expect good work from you, Hill, and
you'll not disappoint me."

"Why, Mr. Crane," said Ward starting up from
his seat.  "And I'm not to take an examination?  Is
that what you mean?"

"Yes."

"I never expected anything like that," said Ward
much moved.  "I can't tell you how much I thank
you, Mr. Crane.  It's not that I'm afraid of the
examination," he added hastily, "but I never even
dreamed of your doing any such thing."

"I trust you are not too much disappointed.  If
you are, I can very readily arrange to meet your
wishes," replied Mr. Crane smilingly.  "I've told
you, however, just how I feel about it, and if I'm
content, why, it seems to me you ought to be."

"I am!  I am!" said Ward hastily, as he bade
Mr. Crane good-night and departed for his room in West
Hall.

How different everything appeared now!  The very
stars in the heavens seemed to share in his joy.
The songs and laughter that came through the
open windows of the great dormitory behind him
now seemed to voice his own feelings.  In his
eagerness he began to run and as he entered West Hall
he mounted the steps two at a time and burst into
his room.

"Oh, Henry----"

He suddenly stopped as he saw that there were
three boys besides Henry in the room.  One was
Jack, and in a moment that impulsive lad was
welcoming him.

"I say, Ward," said Jack, "I'm just in.  I didn't
stop over in East Hall longer than to leave my grip
before I put straight for your room.  Behold, I
looked for you and you were not.  You've been
looking me up, I know.  That's just what you've been
doing.  I don't believe I'd have come back to
Weston if you hadn't come!"

"I've been over to see Mr. Crane and fix up my
conditions," said Ward.

"Got 'em all fixed?"

"Yes, every one."

"Good for you, Ward!  Good for you!  Oh, I say,
I haven't introduced the new fellows to, you.  This,"
he added turning to a well-grown lad, evidently of
about their own age, "this is Lucius Berry.  He's
going to enter our class, and from what I hear he's
going to make you hustle to get the valedic."

Ward greeted the new member of the class
cordially, and then Jack said, "This is Pond's baby
brother."

The lad flushed at Jack's words, and Ward
hastened to take him by the hand and assure him of a
warm welcome.  He was a slight, delicate boy, and
while he bore a striking resemblance to his older
brother, of whom almost every boy in the Weston
school was very fond, it was also evident that he
was not nearly so strong and well as he.  Ward
wondered that he should ever have been permitted to
leave home, and as he thought of the experiences
through which the sensitive lad was bound to pass
if he remained through the year, his own heart
went out to him and he resolved that so far as it
lay within his power he would do his utmost for him.

For a half-hour the boys sat and talked together.
The prospects of the nine, the new members of the
school, the rooms they were to have, were all gone
over, and Ward in the new joy which had come to
him at Mr. Crane's words was thoroughly happy.

"Little Pond," as Pond's younger brother was at
once dubbed, explained that his brother expected to
return at the opening of the following term and
that meanwhile he was working in the home village
store to secure the means.

"He's got the best kind of stuff in him!" said
Jack enthusiastically.  "Talk about money giving
a fellow his place in the Weston school!  Why, Pond's
the most popular boy that's been here in years.  I
think I'd be glad to change places with him myself,
that is, if he'd give me his brains in the bargain.
Just imagine me if you can, calling out, 'Yes, this
calico is five cents a yard.  Those eggs are fresh,
for Mrs. Green brought them, and she never has
any but the best, you know.  Clothespins?  Yes, I
think we have a few, and I'll measure you off a
few yards of this cotton cloth if you say the word.'"

The boys all laughed as Jack went through the
motions as if he were a clerk in a country store and
were measuring off the goods some good woman had
decided to purchase.  "But I say, fellows, it's hard
for the nine, though, with Pond gone.  But Berry
here is a good player.  He was the captain of the
nine in the school he came from before he learned
of the advantages of the Weston school.  There
only can you find such fellows as Jack Hobart and
Ward Hill, and such teachers as Blake and Big
Smith, for I'm of the opinion that Dr. Gray will
call Big Smith into the faculty this fall.  He'll
have to do it, or Big Smith will fire the doctor."

Jack thrust his thumbs into his hip pockets and
strutted about the room as he talked, and to Ward
his manner and bearing seemed irresistibly droll.
But then, Ward Hill was in a mood to enjoy almost
anything that night.

"I say, Berry," said Jack stopping suddenly
before the new boy, "your name's Lucius, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied Berry.  "I've told you so once or
twice already."

"So you have.  So you have," said Jack.  "But
somehow, I forget so easily.  Why, I've actually been
known to forget the case and gender of a noun in
Mr. Crane's class, haven't I, Ward?  Lucius,
Lucius," he added as if he were puzzled by the name.
"I have it now.  You shall be no more Lucius.
From this time forth your name shall be
Luscious.  Luscious Berry!  Oh, what a name!"

All the boys laughed heartily at Berry's new name,
Berry himself joined good-naturedly in the laugh
as he said: "I thought I'd shaken that name off
when I came to Weston.  It's the very same name
they gave me in the other school."

"Jack," said Ward suddenly, "has Tim Pickard
come back?"

"Yes," said Jack, sobered in a moment.  "Yes,
Tim's here.  He's going to room alone at Ma
Perrins', you know, this year."

Ward's face clouded and he knew from the change
in Jack's manner that something was wrong, though
he could not determine just what it was.  The fun,
however, was gone, and in a few minutes Jack rose
and said: "Come on, Luscious, we'll have to go
over to our room.  He's to room with me, you
know," he added turning to Ward.  "He's come all
properly recommended and all that sort of thing,
so I've agreed to take him in.  Good-night, Henry.
Good-night, Puddle--a little Pond's a puddle, isn't
it?  Good-night, Ward.  Your vertebrae are in
their proper tension I hope, and your upper lip is
sufficiently rigid, my dear young friend, I trust."

The boys were gone, but Jack's last words were
not lost upon Ward.  He understood his friend so
well that he was satisfied Jack knew of some coming
trial for him.  And Ward tried to prepare himself
for the trouble which he feared was soon coming,
although he had slight conception that night of how
soon it was to come.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A CALL FOR HELP`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IV


.. class:: center medium bold

   A CALL FOR HELP

.. vspace:: 2

"I'm going down to Mr. Blake's room a minute,"
said Henry when Jack and his new room-mate had
departed.  "I sha'n't be gone long."

"All right," replied Ward, as he turned to talk
with the younger Pond, who had remained as if he
had something he wished to speak about.  "Well,
Pond," he added, after he had seated himself near
him, "how do you like Weston?"

"I think I shall like it after I've become better
acquainted.  Of course, I've heard my brother tell
so many things about it, that it doesn't seem exactly
like a new place to me.  And he's told so many things
too about the boys, that it almost seems to me as if
I had always known them."

"I'm afraid you haven't always heard good things
then, if he's told you about the boys.  I'm sure the
list of good things wouldn't be very long in my
case."

"He told me he liked you better than any boy
in the school," said young Pond eagerly.  "I never
heard him say one word against you, except that
you didn't work very hard.  He declared he never
would have been able to lead the class if you had
put in half the time he did, on your studies."

"That's kind of him," said Ward laughingly,
although he was touched by the evident earnestness
of the boy before him.  "Is this the first time you've
ever been away from home?"

"Yes.  And I fear I'm going to be homesick too."

"Oh, you mustn't mind that!" said Ward as
philosophically as if such feelings were an every-day
matter in his life.  "You'll get over that all right."

"That's what my brother said.  And he told me
too, that I should need some one to look after me a
bit and help to keep me out of the clutches of the
'Tangs,' or some such things.  I don't know just
what he meant, only he said if I would come to you,
that you would help me till he came back next term."

For a moment Ward was silent.  The "Tangs" had
not once been mentioned during the summer, and
both Henry and Jack had been silent concerning
them.  But Ward, although he did not know what
course Jack would follow, had decided that for
himself safety lay only in breaking with them.  But
his heart was not entirely free from fears or
misgivings when he thought of the possible
consequences for himself.  And here was Pond's younger
brother coming to him with the utmost confidence
for protection against the very boys whom he most
feared himself.  He glanced again at the lad before
him.  What a slight, delicate little fellow he was.
And yet what a bright, eager expression he had.
He would have no difficulty in his classes; Ward
felt certain of that; but what would he do if the
boys began to trouble him?

"You come to me, Pond, whenever you're in
trouble, and I'll do my best for you," he finally said,
unable to resist the unspoken as well as the spoken
appeal of the slight boy before him.

"Thank you!  Thank you!" replied Pond, rising
from his chair and departing just as Henry returned.

It was late on the following morning when Ward
and Henry started to go to the dining hall, and
they met many of the boys who already had eaten
their breakfast.  Ward secretly felt relieved at the
fact, for the meeting with the boys was what
troubled him most.  He had been in trouble when the
preceding year had closed, and unpopularity was
something of which Ward Hill stood in greater fear
than of anything else.  How he would be received
now was the constantly pressing question, but its
solution would soon come, for "chapel" would bring
all the boys together, and he would not long be
left in doubt as to his position among his fellows
then.

The chapel bell was ringing when Ward and
Henry hastily left the Hall, or "hash house" as the
building was commonly known, and they hastened
back to their rooms to secure their books before
they ran swiftly up the walk which led to the chapel.
Even then there was the usual delay on the part of
some of the students, and Jack Hobart was leading
a band of delinquents as the bell began to give out
the sharp short strokes that indicated the end of
its summons.

"String out there!  String out, you fellows!"
called Jack, as he caught sight of Ward and Henry,
meanwhile striving hard to button his collar and
adjust his tie.

This time Ward understood the meaning of the
hail far better than when he had first heard it in
the preceding year, and ceasing to run, he
approached the building more slowly, thus giving Jack
and the other delinquents an opportunity to overtake
them and secure their seats before the bell ceased
to be rung and the doors were closed.

Their seats now were in the section which belonged
to the seniors.  Last year how he had looked
up to the boys who occupied these seats.  Ned
Butler was there then, and others whom Ward had
deeply respected.  Was any one looking up to him as
he had looked up to that marvelous class which had
been graduated in the preceding June?  Just then
he caught a glimpse of young Pond, who was
evidently far from feeling at his ease in the midst of
the strange scene.

But Dr. Gray then arose and the low murmur
which had filled the chapel became hushed as the
exercises were begun.  Then followed a talk from
the doctor concerning the work of the year which
lay before them, and Ward could not repress a smile
as Jack Hobart looked solemnly at him and held up
four fingers of one hand, thereby indicating that
this was the fourth occasion on which he had
listened to the same "lecture" from the good old man.
However, the words were well worthy of repetition
and Ward was soon interested and listened
attentively.  Directions were given the new boys
concerning the rooms and places in which they were to
report, and then each class was told what was to be
expected of it on that day, and the boys arose and
started toward the doors.  Ward now knew that
the testing time had come, and he would soon
understand just what he had to expect from his old
companions.  Summoning all his resolution as he
passed out, he saw Tim Pickard standing with a
group of boys, and at once turned and approached
him holding out his hand and endeavoring to appear
calm and indifferent.

"Hello, Tim.  Glad to see you back again."

Tim Pickard turned and looked insolently at
Ward.  There was not a gleam of recognition or
pleasure expressed upon his face.  He looked at
Ward just a moment and then, ignoring the
outstretched hand and the salutation alike, he turned
again to the boys before him and resumed his
conversation with them.

Ward's face flushed crimson, and at first he felt
as if he could not control the feeling of anger which
surged up in his heart.  Who was Tim Pickard,
that he should treat him in such a manner?  Had
he not been expelled from the school?  Did not
every fellow in the school know just what he was?
Had any one forgotten the escapades of the
coarse-fibred boy?  Ward's heart sank quickly, however,
when he thought of his own record in the preceding
year.  If Dr..  Gray was willing to receive Tim
Pickard back into the school for another trial, who
was he to complain?  And how much better after
all was he than Tim?

Ward caught the words "sneak" and "bootlick,"
which Tim had uttered as he had turned again to
his companions, and realized then just what he
would have to face.  Tim Pickard's anger, the
enmity of the "Tangs," and a series of petty
annoyances which would be bound to follow him now
perhaps all through the school year, must be met.

It seemed to the troubled boy as if every one in
his class was against him, for he received but a
friendly nod or a slight recognition as he hurried
into the Latin room and took his old familiar place.
Jack already was in the chair next to his and Ward
at once perceived from the expression on his face
that he was aware of the state of the feeling in the
school.

"Never mind, Ward," he whispered, as his classmate
took his seat; "just you keep in mind what I
told you about the condition of your vertebrae, and
the region of your upper lip.  It'll all come out
right."

To do Ward Hill justice we must say that there
was a feeling in his heart which did not promise to
be altogether bad.  It is true he was hurt and angry
as he recognized what lay before him, perhaps more
angry than hurt, but he was determined now not
to be crushed, or "downed," as he termed it.
Mr. Crane kept the class but a few moments, only long
enough to assign lessons and to make a few general
suggestions, and then dismissed them.

As they filed out of the room, Jack said: "Ward,
will you come over to my room now?"

"No," replied Ward quietly.  "I think I'll go over
to West and get a little start in my work.  If I'm
to be valedic, you know, I must begin early."  Ward
smiled slightly as he spoke, but he could not
entirely conceal the depression which now swept over
him.  "Never mind, Speck, don't worry about me,"
he quickly added as he saw the sympathy expressed
upon his friend's face; "I'm going to come through
it all right.  I'm not for giving up yet, anyway.
I'll come over to see you after a bit; but just now
I think I'll go to my room."

"All right," said Jack heartily, evidently
appreciating Ward's desire to be alone.

Ward walked slowly over toward West Hall.  He
felt as if nearly all his companions would be against
him now.  Tim Pickard, in spite of his well-known
character, was still a good deal of a leader, and his
wealth and success as an athlete added greatly to his
power over the boys.  He could not repress the wish
that Doctor Gray had not permitted Tim to return,
for he must have known what every boy in the
Weston school thought of him, and must also have known
that there was very slight prospect of Tim's ever
advancing.  But here he was, and Ward must face
the conditions which were before him.  There was
to be no escape now.

He entered his room and at once began to study.
It was difficult for him to hold himself to his work,
but he succeeded in a measure, and when two hours
later Henry entered, Ward had much of his work
done.  So far as his class work was concerned he
could look forward with confidence to what was to
come on the morrow.

Throughout the day Ward found that his only
consolation was in busying himself in some work.  When
he went down to the boarding hall he had but little
to say to his companions, and returned at once to
his room.

The day somehow passed and after the evening
meal, when he had seated himself before his study
table to write his first letter home, Big Smith
suddenly entered the room, and said:

"Why, Ward, I haven't seen you to speak to you
before.  Where have you kept yourself?"

"I haven't been very far away," replied Ward with
a smile.

His heart had never been drawn to the boy
before him, but in times like the present even the
friendship of Big Smith was not to be lightly cast
aside.  Ward Hill could endure anything better
than the ill-will of his fellows.

"Well, I'm glad to see you," said Big Smith
solemnly.  "I sincerely trust you are going to do
better this year than you did last."

"I hope so too," said Ward; "and I'm not without
hope," he added solemnly, and striving to imitate
exactly the tones Big Smith had used, "that
you too will be able to improve."

"Let us hope so.  Let us hope so.  Doubtless
there is room for us all.  But, Ward, I'm not so
much afraid of you as I am of Tim Pickard.  I
don't see why the doctor ever permitted him to
return.  I shouldn't, I'm sure of that."

Ward's face flushed and an angry retort rose upon
his lips, but he restrained himself, and Big Smith
continued:

"Yes, I confess, I'm not overmuch rejoiced over
Tim's return.  He's a good man for the nine, we all
know that; but I fear he may be a disturbing element
in the school.  Not with me," he hastily added,
"but I fear for you, Ward, I do, indeed."

Still Ward managed in some way to keep silent,
though, as he afterward explained it, he never
understood just how it was done.

"Even now," continued Big Smith, "I hear that
Timothy is at work again.  My brother informs me
that he and some of his cronies have beguiled young
Pond down on the ball ground and are tormenting
him there."

"What?  What's that, you say?" said Ward
quickly, leaping from his seat as he spoke, and
without waiting for his question to be answered he
seized his hat and ran swiftly out of the room.
Down the stairs he rushed, three steps at a jump,
and out along the pathway that led to the ball
ground.

One thought possessed him now--Little Pond was
in trouble.  Ward recalled his own promise to aid
him, and now that the lad was suffering at the
hands of Tim Pickard two feelings drove him on.
One was his compassion for Pond and the other
was his anger at Tim.

It was dusk, the sun having disappeared, but the
darkness not as yet having settled over all.  He
ran swiftly forward and as he came near the ball
ground he stopped as he heard a shout of laughter
coming from that direction.  It seemed to him he
could hear Tim Pickard's voice above the others,
but he did not stop to question as he again ran
swiftly forward.

He soon came to the brow of the low hill that
looked down upon the field.  There he stopped for
a moment and looked before him.  He could see that
four or five boys were there and there was something
in the midst which at first he could not make
out.  Soon, however, he could see what it was.  It
was a baby carriage and some one was lying
strapped upon it.

"Look out now, gentlemen," he heard some one
of the boys call.  "We have here the finest
specimen of the infant terrible ever yet seen.  *Genus
homo*, order----"

"Don't!  Please don't!" Ward heard some one
pleadingly say.  The voice was that of young Pond
and the other speaker he now knew was Tim Pickard.

The pleadings were not heeded, however, and
with a rush the boys started with the baby carriage
over the rough ground.

Again Ward could hear the pleadings of the
frightened lad and the sound was more than he
could bear.  In an instant he started down the
hillside at his highest speed and ran swiftly on toward
the noisy group.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A WARNING`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER V


.. class:: center medium bold

   A WARNING

.. vspace:: 2

Ward had drawn near the group before his presence
was discovered.  The deepening dusk and the
sheltered position of the ball ground had made the
boys who were tormenting Little Pond almost reckless,
so secure did they feel from detection.  As a
consequence he was close upon them before any one
perceived him.

"Now shake the infant up!  Bye, baby, bye!  That's
a good little boy.  We'll give him a good ride, so
we will!"

There was no mistaking that voice, it could be
none other than Tim Pickard's, and Ward could
see that he was holding the handle of the carriage
and was preparing to make another rush with the
unfortunate lad who lay stretched upon it.

"Look out!  Look out!" called one of the boys
suddenly, as he caught sight of the approaching
form.  "Some one's coming.  Let's get out of this!"

In an instant Tim's companions scattered and fled
in the darkness, while Tim himself looked about him
in surprise, as if he were not yet able to account
for the sudden departure of his friends.

Ward was close upon him now, and without hesitating
an instant he rushed upon the tormentor of
Little Pond with such force that he was sent
headlong and rolled over and over upon the ground
before he could regain his foothold.

Ward had not fully realized what he would have
to meet in the struggle, for he had thought that he
would be set upon by all the assembled mischief-makers
together; but the cry of Little Pond had
banished all other thoughts from his mind, and he
had gone recklessly to the aid of the lad.  He had
not counted at all upon the results which quickly
followed.

As soon as Tim could recover himself he ran
swiftly off in the darkness in the direction in which
his companions had disappeared, and in a moment
no one was left upon the scene except Ward and the
lad, who still was lying fast bound and in an
exceedingly uncomfortable position upon the top of the
baby carriage.

Doubtless the fears in the heart of Tim and his
companions had either exaggerated the number of
those who were approaching, or they had thought
some of the teachers were making a descent upon
them, and in the latter event Tim most of all would
have found a very serious problem to face.

At any rate, they had all disappeared so quickly
that Ward could hardly believe at first that he was
left alone.  He waited a moment to see if any
would return, his blood boiling, and the feeling of
anger in his heart making him almost reckless of
any consequences that might befall him for his
hasty but generous action.

As soon as he was satisfied that no one was
coming back he turned to young Pond, and as he
unbound the straps by which he had been held fast, he
said:

"What's the meaning of this?  How came you
to be here?"

"I don't know.  I was walking along the path over
by the chapel when three fellows rushed at me, and
before I knew what they were about they were
rushing me down here upon the ball ground.  One of
them tied his handkerchief over my mouth, but I
tore it off.  I didn't want to cry out, but I couldn't
help it.  They didn't seem to think any one could
hear me and so left it off."

"Are you hurt?"

"Not much, though my back pains me.  You see,
they picked me up and tied me in the carriage so
that my head and shoulders hung over the back,
and every time they made a rush it seemed to me
as if they would break me straight in two."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know; it seems as if it must have been
days, but I don't suppose it was more than half an
hour.  I thought they'd never stop."

"Do you know who the fellows were?"

"Yes."

"Who were they?"

"I don't think I'll tell, Ward.  It wouldn't do any
good; and besides, I may be mistaken, you know.
No, I'd rather not tell you if you don't mind."

"You don't need to," said Ward quietly.  "I
know who they were.  At least I know who one
was, and I rather think he'll not forget his tumble
very soon, either.  But come on now, it's time we
were in our rooms.  There goes the study bell now,
and we'll be marked late if we don't look out.  Come on."

Both boys started quickly toward West Hall, and
on their way they met a group of five boys, one of
whom was Tim Pickard.  They too were heading
for their rooms, but the recognition was mutual, and
Ward instantly realized that his own troubles were
likely to be multiplied by that fact.  However, he
said nothing to his companion.  In a few moments
they entered West Hall; but the bell had ceased
ringing several minutes before, and as they went up
the stairway they met Mr. Blake face to face.

"Late are you, Hill?" said the teacher.  "I'm
sorry to see that so early in the term.  And you have
one of the younger boys with you too!" he added as
he saw who Ward's companion was.  "That's too
bad, Hill, that's too bad.  You ought not to get the
little fellows into trouble too.  It's quite enough for
you to get into it yourself.  If this happens again,
Hill, I shall report it to Dr. Gray."

It had been in Ward's heart to explain the cause
of his tardiness, or at least to try to shield his
companion, but as Mr. Blake talked on, he resolutely
shut his lips together and without a word of
explanation went on up to his room, while Little Pond
also departed to his.

As Ward entered the room Henry looked up in
surprise, and Ward felt that there was an implied
rebuke in his glance.  Repressing the feeling of
anger which at first arose, he soon explained to
his chum the exciting scene he had just witnessed,
and as he finished, Henry said:

"That was a mean trick!  They might have
broken the little fellow's back.  It was Tim Pickard
at the bottom of it, I suppose."

"Yes," said Ward quietly.

"Well, never mind, Ward," said Henry quickly.
"Probably he'll turn his attention to you now; but
I think you'll be able to stand it."

"I shall try to," said Ward with a smile, as he
seated himself at his study table, and taking up his
books began his preparation of the lessons for the
following day.  And he studied hard all that evening.
His heart was still hot and his feelings were
bitter whenever he thought of the brutal treatment
of Little Pond, and yet he did not once pause to
consider that a year before this time he might have
been one of the very boys to be foremost in such a
scrape, and call it good fun.  Now, however, it
seemed to him like a very cowardly act.  He had
felt a very strong personal liking for the elder
Pond, and the letters he had received from him,
as well as the appeal of the little fellow himself, had
worked strongly upon his own heart.  Besides all that,
it was such an entirely unusual experience for him
to be approached for aid that it was a new motive
in his heart which was stirred now.  Hitherto, he
had been the one to seek help.  Now he was a
senior, and the feeling of respect with which he
had looked to the older boys when he had entered
the Weston school must be very like that which
Pond's brother now felt toward him.

Ward enjoyed the feeling too.  The cry of Little
Pond for aid came back to him frequently and he
had fully resolved before the evening passed that
he would "see the little fellow through," which was
the way in which he expressed his determination to
see that the lad was not put upon or tormented by
Tim Pickard or any of his boon companions.

Still, when the morning came Ward was hardly
prepared for the consequences which soon followed
his action.

When he entered the post office he found a letter
awaiting him there, which evidently had been written
by some boy, for the handwriting plainly showed
that, and the postmark was Weston.

He hastily tore open the envelope and then read
the enclosed letter, which was as follows:

.. vspace:: 2

WESTON SCHOOL, September 18, 19--

.. vspace:: 1

To WARD HILL, SNEAK:

.. vspace:: 1

You are hereby notified that you have been
expelled from the ancient and venerable order of
"Orang-outangs."  You have promised never to
betray any of the secrets of the order, but probably
you will not keep your word any better in this case
than you do in others.  We want to warn you
though, that your best plan is to leave the school
at once.  Don't delay, for delays are dangerous.  Your
life will not be safe.  You will be snubbed by the
fellows and you will find that everybody, except a
few sneaks, in the whole school is down on you.  If
you stay it will be at your own peril.  Take the
advice and follow the warning of the

.. vspace:: 1

COMMITTEE.

.. vspace:: 2

As Ward looked up after finishing the reading of
the letter he saw Tim Pickard standing in the
doorway and regarding him with ill-concealed hatred.
Ward laughed aloud as he saw the boy, and
approaching him and holding out the letter which he
had just read, he said:

"There, Tim, you'd better take your letter; I
don't want it.  You may be able to scare the little
fellows in the dark as you did Little Pond last night,
but you can't scare me.  As for you and the 'Tangs,'
you know I don't care that for them," and he
snapped his fingers derisively as he spoke.  "You
know as well as I do that I had made up my mind
never to have anything more to do with such
fellows.  Perhaps, if you don't want the letter,
Dr. Gray might care for it," he added as Tim made no
movement to receive it.

Ward was sorry for the words the moment he had
uttered them, but they were gone beyond recall now.
He had not the slightest inclination to give the
letter to the principal, and he knew that Tim
Pickard was aware of that fact too; but Tim instantly
snatched the letter from his hand and giving Ward
a look of intense hatred turned quickly on his heel
and departed.

Ward was inclined to laugh at the entire matter.
As for the "Tangs," he was glad that the break
had come.  He had known that his only safety lay
in cutting loose from them, but just how it was to
be done he had not been able to decide.  It had been
a topic of conversation to which neither he nor Jack
had referred since the vacation had begun, and now
that the break at last had really come, Ward felt
relieved.

As for their threats, he cared little for them.  The
most they could do would be a series of petty
annoyances, and in the present state of his feelings
that seemed a very small matter.

Of Tim Pickard's hatred for him he had no doubt,
but that the brutal leader would be able to annoy
him seriously he had no fear.  He had all those
lessons yet to learn, along with some others that
were not indicated in the "course of study" as
mapped out in the catalogue of the Weston school.

When he entered the Latin room that morning and
took his seat beside Jack, he felt rather than
perceived that a change of some kind had come over his
companion.  It was nothing that Jack said, nor was
it clearly apparent in his manner, and yet there was
an indefinable something about him that led Ward
to think that a change of some kind had come.  For
the first time Ward's heart misgave him.  Perhaps
he had been too bold after all.  Could he afford to
incur the loss of Jack's friendship for the sake of a
little fellow whom he had never met until a few days
before this time?

His thoughts, however, were soon recalled, and
he was giving his entire attention to the work of
the class.  His own lesson had been thoroughly
prepared and when he took his seat after Mr. Crane
had called upon him to recite he felt that he had
done well.

Mr. Crane, however, made no comment, and there
was no change in the quiet manner with which he
conducted his recitation.  Ward was a trifle
disappointed, as he felt that such work as he was doing
was entitled to a little more recognition than he had
received.  However, he gave his attention to the
lesson, and when the class rose to leave the room
he turned to Jack and said:

"It's this afternoon the nine practises, isn't it?"

"Yes," replied Jack evasively.

The conversation ceased abruptly, and as Ward
passed with the class out to Dr. Gray's recitation
room, he several times perceived that he himself was
the subject of conversation among the boys.

Striving hard not to appear to notice it, and yet
with a sinking heart realizing that somehow the
boys appeared to avoid him, he apparently was taking
his last glimpse at his lesson before entering the
recitation room.  And yet his thoughts were not of
the lesson.  Even Jack he noticed was walking by
the side of Berry--Luscious Berry--and if one
might judge from his manner the conversation was
highly interesting.  With a heavy heart Ward
entered the room, and as soon as the recitation was
ended departed alone for his room in West Hall.
Once there, he seated himself and in a kind of dull
misery began to think over his situation.  The
fellows were "cutting" him, there was no doubt of
that, he thought, and even the new boys were
looking at him with suspicion.  And yet it was possible
for him even now to win back all he had lost;
all he would have to do would be to go in with the
"Tangs" again and enter heartily into their sports
and pranks and he would soon have his position
restored.

But what would that position be?  One which would
prevent him from doing good work, first of all, and
that was something he was eager to do, at least
for the present.  Soon he would forfeit the good
opinion of Mr. Crane and Dr. Gray, and his steps
would begin to slide.  He might win a certain
amount of popularity from such fellows as Tim, but
what would it all amount to?

Then why should he feel called upon to defend
Little Pond?  He had been compelled to fight his
own battles when he had entered the school and it
had done him good, or at least so Ward thought.
Little Pond would soon learn to take his own part,
and meanwhile a little attention from Tim might
not do him any real harm.

Ward Hill was seriously troubled.  He did not
fully realize it, but the greatest pain in his own
heart was over the loss of his popularity among his
fellows.

For this his heart hungered, and as his struggle
went on, more than once his decision wavered.  He
was now at the dividing of the ways.  He had been
traveling along a road thus far which, while
uneven, had been for the most part unbroken.  Now
the road forked, and if he went on he must choose
either the one branch or the other.

That afternoon was to be the first day of practice
for the school nine.  A notice to that effect had been
posted upon the bulletin board, and while no
personal invitation had been given him to come, Ward
decided to go.  He must learn the exact condition of
affairs, both for his own sake and to know how to
meet the boys, and there would be no better place
than on the ballground.

Accordingly, when the study hour was over, he
closed his books and started for the place, from
which as he approached he could hear already the
shouts of the fellows in the game.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE BEGINNING OF THE STRUGGLE`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VI


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE BEGINNING OF THE STRUGGLE

.. vspace:: 2

A single glance as he came within sight of the
field at once showed Ward that the nine were
already in their places, and were playing against a
scrub team.  Henry was guarding first base, Jack
was on second, and his own position in left field was
held by the new boy, Ripley.

Ward understood it all now; it was the intention
of Tim Pickard and his friends to "freeze him out."

He thought for a moment bitterly of the success
he had had in the game with the Burrs in the
preceding year, and how in their enthusiasm after the
game was ended, his mates had carried him about
on their shoulders, and the cheers for Ward Hill
had been given with a will.

And it had all been sweet to Ward too.  Vanity
seemed to have been intended as a part of the
original make-up of every son of Adam, and while many
times it becomes a source of weakness, more
frequently it is an element of power.  Almost every
boy is prone to look upon his own father, for
example, with a confidence and admiration he gives
no other man, and rightly too.  The belief in one's
own ability to do things is no slight element in the
possible success which he may achieve.  But out of
proportion, or not in its proper place, or when
permitted to become a controlling power, vanity
never fails to become a source of weakness.

This had been as true with Ward Hill as it had
been with Big Smith, although the manner in which
it became manifest was so different.  To measure
one's self justly, to decide honestly what can be done
and what cannot, is ever an element of power, and
one of the very best lessons, as it is almost the first
of the necessary ones, to be gained as a boy goes
out from his own home, where his good qualities
have frequently been exaggerated and his poorer
ones ignored; and to learn that there are other boys
as bright as he, is a difficult but necessary process.
A school is the most thoroughly and the most
honestly democratic place in all this world, and if a
boy finds that there he is not popular with his mates,
instead of blaming them he needs very carefully
and honestly to look within himself to discover the
causes.  It is frequently said that the source of
Caesar's success was his ability to discover what he
could not do and to govern himself accordingly;
while the cause of Napoleon's downfall is said to
have been his inability to perceive what Caesar saw.
But Ward Hill that afternoon was not thinking
either of Caesar or Napoleon.  He was troubled most
of all about Ward Hill and the fact that he had been
left off the Weston nine.

His mortification was not diminished when he
discovered that both Henry and Jack were in their
regular positions.  Now he understood the meaning
of the change in Jack's manner.  While he was angry
he was not inclined to blame him, for he understood
clearly the disposition of the light-hearted
lad, and knew that he was never one to stand long
against an appeal of almost any kind.

But Henry's action troubled him.  He had
professed so warm a friendship, and apparently had
been so eager to have their former relations
restored, that he could not understand now why he
should not have spoken to him before of the change
in the nine.  Perhaps Ward's bitterness was a little
more intense from the consciousness he had that
there was no better player in the Weston school
than he knew himself to be.  That, however, did
not alter the fact that he had been left out, and
doubtless intentionally too.

Ward's first impulse was to turn quickly and
leave, before his presence had been discovered.
Suddenly changing his decision, he quietly turned about
and striving to appear unconcerned advanced and
joined the line of boys who were watching the game.
He tried desperately to ignore the glances which
were cast at him from the boys in the line, but he
could not entirely succeed.  Nor could he fail to
hear some of the words which were spoken to some
of the new boys concerning himself.

Just then the side was out, and as the members
of the nine came slowly in from the field Tim
Pickard spied him.  His face lighted up with a
malicious smile as he turned to his companions and
said: "Here's Ward Hill, fellows.  He used to be a
decent sort of a player.  Can't we find a place
for him on the scrubs?  The nine needs all the
practice it can get, and he'll help us out."

"I don't care to play to-day," said Ward quietly,
although he felt his cheeks flush as he spoke.

His mortification was not diminished when he saw
a sardonic grin appear upon Tim's face and the
brutal boy turn and wink meaningly at his fellows.

Ward stood his ground boldly, however, although
in his heart he felt that he was something of a
martyr.  It was not just clear to him what the
cause of his suffering was, but his disappointment
and mortification, with which was mingled a
feeling of anger, were uppermost.  Not yet did he
clearly see that he was reaping the harvest of the
seed he had sown in the preceding year.  All that
came to him now was the consciousness that he
was being treated unjustly, and his whole soul
rebelled, although he felt entirely powerless to change
the condition of affairs.

"Never you mind, Ward," said Jack consolingly,
as he sought his friend's side as soon as the game
was resumed, "it's all going to come out right in
the end."

Ward smiled a little bitterly, but made no other
reply.

"Tim's got backing enough to keep you off from
the nine now, but it won't last long.  We've just got
to have you when it comes to the game with the
Burrs, and that's all there is about it.  Tim knows
that as well as any one, and if he wants to he can't
keep the fellows back then."

"Perhaps he can't, but it takes two to make a
bargain.  Maybe I sha'n't be so eager as you seem
to think I will.  I can't do as some of the fellows
do, be just the same to everybody, no matter how
they act toward me."

"I know it," said Jack quietly as he picked up a
bat, having heard his name called, and advanced
to face the pitcher.

"It's a shame, Ward!" said Henry who now came
up to him.  "It's a shame, that's what it is!  I didn't
know anything about it till I came down on the
field.  I supposed of course you were to have your
regular place on the nine.  If there's no place for
you, there's no place for me either.  Tim Pickard
might as well understand that now as at any other time."

Ward's feelings were somewhat soothed by
Henry's words, and he deeply regretted the manner
in which he had just spoken to Jack.

It was too late then to recall his words, and he
turned to his chum and said: "No, old fellow, you're
not going to leave the nine on my account.  That
would make it all the worse for me, don't you see?
You keep on for a while, anyway.  I'm going up to
see Mr. Crane now.  I think I've had all the
exercise I want, at least for to-day."

Henry said nothing more, though he was strongly
inclined to leave with Ward.  He understood
thoroughly the sensitive nature of his friend and
appreciated fully the suffering which he must be
undergoing now.  But somehow he felt powerless to
aid him, and after watching him until he disappeared
from sight he turned with a sigh and waited
for his turn to bat to come.

Ward walked proudly away from the field.  He
was determined to permit no one to witness his
shame, for he felt humiliated and angry.  How was
it, he thought, that such fellows as Tim Pickard
could hold and wield such an influence on the boys?
He was not liked, of that he was certain, and yet in
spite of that fact no one in the school apparently
had more followers.  Why had Dr. Gray permitted
such a fellow to re-enter the school?  He had been
expelled once; why should he not have been kept
away entirely?  The school certainly would be the
better for his absence.

Ward Hill had yet to learn that "Tim Pickards"
were not confined to the Weston school, but that in
every place and condition some one stands who
apparently blocks our way and prevents us from
being our best and truest selves.

However, Ward was honest enough to feel the
force of the thought which immediately followed.
Perhaps if Dr. Gray had been only just, more
boys than Tim Pickard might have been prevented
from coming back to the Weston school.  Where
would he himself be but for Dr. Gray's kindness?

The thought did not tend to lessen his own
bitterness, however, and when at last he entered East
Hall and rapped upon the door of Mr. Crane's room
the lad felt utterly wretched.  It did seem as if all
things were working together for bad, as far as
he was concerned.

Mr. Crane quickly opened the door, and if he read
the expression of misery upon Ward's face he was
too wise to mention it.  He greeted him cordially,
and as Ward took the proffered seat, he at once
began to talk cheerfully of the life and work of the
school.

He spoke quietly--for Mr. Crane was never one to
bestow praise cheaply--concerning the work which
Ward was doing, and succeeded in drawing from the
troubled lad so many of his opinions on matters
pertaining to his home life and experiences in
Rockford, that in spite of himself Ward felt his anger
and mortification disappearing for the time, and was
soon feeling quite at his ease.

As soon as he perceived that the cloud had passed,
Mr. Crane led the conversation on to the subjects
which he knew were in Ward's mind, and although
he did not speak one word directly of them, Ward
found himself wondering how much and what the
teacher really knew of his troubles.  He seemed to
understand boys almost instinctively, and as Ward
listened, his admiration for the quiet, self-possessed
man increased each moment.

"In school life," said Mr. Crane, "there are always
two forces which mostly aid a fellow when he is in
trouble, or is trying to build himself up after a fall.
One of these is to feel that there is some one looking
up to him and perhaps depending upon him in many
ways.  Dr. Arnold was accustomed to say that the
tone of the school life at Rugby was always largely
determined by the older boys themselves.  What they
were and what they did became the standards for
the younger fellows.  I think the great teacher was
exactly right.  I have seen many a fellow here who
was careless, and perhaps worse, when he was in the
lower classes, completely changed when he became
a senior.  The very fact that he knew the younger
boys were looking up to him, as he himself had
looked up to those who had been above him when he
first entered the school, has served to draw out
his very best qualities.  Yes, I am convinced that
there is nothing which so helps a boy to become a
man as to feel that he is responsible for some one
besides himself."

Ward sat silent as Mr. Crane talked, wondering
all the while whether he had learned anything
directly concerning him.  Certainly he was describing
the very condition which had appealed very strongly
to Ward after Little Pond's conversation with him
a few nights before this time.

"What was the other thing which helped a fellow,
Mr. Crane?" said Ward at last, looking up at his
teacher as he spoke.  "You said there were two."

"Yes, there's another great help, and that is his
anger."

"His anger?  I don't think I understand you, Mr. Crane."

"What I mean is this.  At times the only force
which will rouse one and compel him to do his level
best is to be aroused by some strong feeling of
anger."

"But I thought that was something which was
wrong," replied Ward.  "I never heard any one
speak like that before."

"Perhaps not," said Mr. Crane quietly, yet smiling
as he spoke.  "And yet I firmly believe no boy, or
man either for that matter, ever yet did a great
thing without having a feeling of strong anger at
the time.  I'm not talking of your irritable men, nor
of bad-tempered men.  But there are some things
which thoroughly arouse a good man, and the better
he is the more will he be aroused.  One who
evidently knew of what he was speaking boldly
encouraged us all to 'abhor that which is evil.'  The
picture of the peaceful Man of Nazareth in the
temple with a scourge in his hands often comes up
before me.  Do you know, Hill, I have never cared
much for the faces some men have painted as being
that of that wonderful Man.  For myself, I should
like to see just how he looked, that quiet, dignified,
gentle soul, when he was aroused as he was in the
temple.  It would be an inspiration to me, I know,
in some of the conflicts that go on within me at
times."

As Ward still sat silent, Mr. Crane after glancing
quietly and keenly at him, went on.  "Yes, Hill,
that's exactly what I mean.  No man does his level
best until he is thoroughly aroused, and nothing
rouses him like a just anger.  Why, think of
Washington at Monmouth, when he first discovered the
cowardice or treachery of Lee.  His anger must have
been as terrible as it was sublime, and what a
wonderful effort he made then and there.  Or you can
think of Martin Luther in his anger.  What would
he ever have accomplished if he had not been roused
almost to madness by the sight and knowledge of
what was going on about him?  It is true of every
great man and of every good man too, for when you
sum it all up no one ever becomes a good man--I
don't mean 'goody-goody,' but I do mean a good
man--without being at the same time a great man too."

"Do you mean a fellow is to be angry at what he
sees inside of himself or what he sees going on
around him?" asked Ward quickly.

"In a sense I mean both," replied Mr. Crane.
"There isn't one of us who doesn't do things, or is
tempted at least to do them, for which he despises
himself, and in my opinion he never rises much
above them till he comes to have this feeling of
anger of which I've just been speaking."

"I think I understand what you mean, Mr. Crane,"
said Ward rising from his chair.  "I never looked
at it so before, but you've helped me, helped me
more than I can tell you.  I think it was just to hear
you say what you have been saying to me that I
must have come here, Mr. Crane."

"Come again then, Hill.  Come whenever you
wish.  I shall always be pleased to see you."

Ward, as he walked slowly on toward West Hall,
of course could not see the smile on Mr. Crane's
face as he stood by the window in his room and
watched the departing lad, nor perhaps would he
have understood it if he had seen it.  But Mr. Crane
apparently was not displeased at the effect of his
words on his pupil, and soon resumed the work
which had been interrupted by his entrance.

Ward was thinking deeply as he walked along the
path.  A new and unusual expression was upon his
face, and as he ran up the stairs and stopped before
his door, he took the key from his pocket, and said
aloud to himself, "Ward Hill--the senior."  Just
what he meant by the expression he did not explain,
perhaps he did not know.

He unlocked the door and started to open it.  There
was a slight resistance, and leaning against it he
pushed the harder.

The door then flew open, but the opening was
followed by a crash which might have been heard
throughout the building.  Chairs, tables, pitchers,
lamps, and all the various belongings of the room,
had been piled against the door and fallen in a
confused mass all about.  The room was in complete
disorder.  The carpet had been torn up, and even
the curtains taken from the windows.  The bedding
was in the middle of the room, and the water from
the pitchers had been poured over it.  Even the
beds had been taken apart and the pieces were
scattered about over the floor.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE TROUBLES ARE INCREASED`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE TROUBLES ARE INCREASED

.. vspace:: 2

For a moment Ward was speechless as he gazed
at the scene of confusion before him.  Whoever had
done the work had done it thoroughly, for not an
article of furniture nor a picture on the wall had
been left in its proper place.  It was confusion worse
confounded upon which he gazed.

Quickly recovering himself, Ward pushed his way
into the room and closed the door behind him.  As
he examined the heaps and piles before him more
carefully, he became more and more angry.  It was
such a senseless, malicious trick to play on him, that
Ward felt the indignity the more.  It was true he
had known of such things having been done before
in the rooms of other boys, and he had not thought
much about it at the time, or had only laughed
good-naturedly when he had heard of the deed; but it was
an entirely different affair when it came home to
himself.

"I think even Mr. Crane would be satisfied that I
am angry enough now," Ward thought, smiling bitterly;
"but I don't see that it is going to help me
very much.  If the fellow who did it was here, why
then I might turn my anger to advantage."

But even then Mr. Crane's lesson came home to
him.  "I'll do as he suggested," thought Ward, "and
I'll just turn in and set these things aright before I
have time to get over it."

Angry as Ward was he realized that the mischief
must be repaired, and that he must be the one to
repair it.

But first of all he began to investigate the manner
in which the mischief-maker had entered the room.
The outside windows were fastened on the inner
side, and no one could have entered through them,
even if he had had the hardihood to make the
attempt.  The door had been locked when he had
returned, but he soon satisfied himself that some one
must have had a key and used it in his absence.

Naturally his first thought was of Tim Pickard,
but Tim was down on the ballground and must have
been there long before Ward had gone.  Tim
himself then could not have done it.  Who was it?
Ward thought over the boys who would have been
most likely to be the guilty ones, but he could not
arrive at any satisfactory conclusion.  So many of
the boys now were against him that it might have
been any one of twenty whom he could name.

It was impossible for Ward to banish the thought
of Tim Pickard as having been the prime instigator,
however.  He would be too shrewd to be directly
implicated in the matter, Ward was well aware of
that, but Tim could work indirectly.  There were
too many of the boys who were willing to curry
favor with him by any means for him not to be able
to find some one to "pull his chestnuts out of the
fire for him," as Ward expressed it.

Satisfied that he must wait for a solution of the
mystery, Ward took off his coat and resolutely set
to work to restore the room to something like its
former state.  He quickly moved the furniture, and
then after spreading out the carpet began to tack it
to the floor.

He worked on steadily and as quietly as possible,
for he had no desire to be disturbed in his labors
or enter into any explanations which a visitor might
desire to have made.  Several times some one rapped
upon his door, but Ward did not heed the interruption.
He paused in his work long enough to
satisfy himself that the visitor had departed, and
then resumed his labor.

Never before had he worked so hard or so rapidly.
He grimly thought of what Mr. Crane had said
concerning anger as a motive for exerting one's self,
and certainly, he thought, in the present case it was
working remarkably well.  In much less time than
he had deemed it possible the carpet had been tacked
to the floor, and then Ward at once began to restore
the furniture to its proper place.  This last was an
easy task, and as Ward glanced at his watch he was
surprised to see that he had been working but little
more than an hour.  No one would suspect now from
the appearance of the room that it had been
"stacked," to use the Weston term for the upsetting
of a boy's room.  He then spread out the bedding in
such a manner as to permit it to become dry, and
just as he turned to enter the study room again,
some one knocked on the door.

Satisfied that no one would suspect what had
occurred, but with his anger not one whit abated,
Ward advanced to the door and slipping back the
bolt, opened it.

"Oh, it's you, Little Pond, is it?" he said as Pond's
brother entered the room.  "What's up?" he hastily
inquired, as he detected the trace of tears in the lad's
eyes.

"Some one's been in my room and upset everything
in it.  They've even poured water all over my bed,
and I don't know what I'll do.  I've been working
hard for an hour to straighten things out, but I
don't think I've succeeded very well," and the lad's
voice almost broke as he spoke.

"Never mind, Pond," said Ward quickly, forgetting
for a moment his own experience and anger
at the sight of the trembling lad before him.  "I'll
go up and help you, and we'll have it all straightened
out before you know it.  You mustn't mind such a
little thing as having your room stacked.  It's what
every new boy has to expect."

Ward spoke quite bravely.  His new role as "Ward
Hill the senior" was already beginning to have its
effect upon him, and in the impulse to help another,
he almost forgot his own anger over what a little
while before he had considered an outrage.

"You haven't told any one about it, have you?"
inquired Ward.

"No; that is, I haven't to any one except Big Smith."

"And what did Big Smith say?"

"Oh, he said just what you did, not to mind it."

"That was kind of him," remarked Ward drily.
"He didn't speak about being willing to come up and
help you set the room up again, did he?"

"Why, no; is he the one who does that?"

"Not exactly.  It's strange how many duties he
has to do just when any one else happens to want
anything of him.  Why, there he is now," he quickly
added as they came out of the room and Ward
carefully locked the door behind him.  "I say, Big
Smith, I want you.  Come up into Little Pond's room
and help set it up.  The poor little homesick chap
has had it stacked, and can't fix it alone."

"I should like to, Ward, I really should, but I've
some work to do, and I feel it to be my duty to
attend to that first.  I'll come up as soon as I can."

"No, you won't, you'll come now," said Ward
angrily.  "You're not going to leave the little chap
in any such way."

"But, Ward, I can't," protested Big Smith, "I
really can't.  I must do my work first."

"You'd better come.  Such fellows as you sometimes
have to neglect their 'duties' to set their own
rooms up.  You'll have your own room stacked the
first thing you know."

"Do you think so?" said Big Smith hastily.  "I
don't see why any one should want to bother me in
that way.  But I'll come up.  Perhaps I ought to,
though I do not wish to."

"Come along, then," said Ward; and the three
boys at once proceeded to Pond's room, and by their
combined efforts the few belongings were soon
restored to their former places.

"I hope this stacking business isn't going to
become the fashion," said Big Smith solemnly.  "It
will be a very serious inconvenience to me if I should
have to rearrange my room very often.  It would
interfere with my plans very sadly.  Do you know,
Ward, I heard some one in your room this afternoon?
I thought it was you at first, but when I
saw you a little later coming up the path, of course
I knew it wasn't.  Since I've been up here I've been
thinking that your room might have been stacked
too.  You've been there, of course, and it must be
all right, or you'd have spoken of it."

"My room's all right," replied Ward evasively,
though his face flushed slightly as he spoke.  He had
no desire that Big Smith should learn of his misfortune.
It was bad enough as it was, without having
the report of it spread broadcast, as would be the
case if Big Smith learned of it.  "Have any of the
East Hall fellows been over here this afternoon?"
he added.

"No," said Big Smith slowly, "I haven't seen any.
Let me see, though, I did see Jack Hobart talking
with Professor Mike a minute, but that was out in
front of West.  I don't think he came in.  Why?"

"Oh, nothing," replied Ward slowly.  He was
thinking of that interview between Jack and the
janitor, or Professor Mike, as he was familiarly
known by the boys.  Evidently he was troubled by
the thought too, for he was silent for a time, and
apparently not aware of the presence of his
companions.

"You're all right now, Little Pond," he said at
last.  "You can go and attend to that 'duty' of yours,
Big Smith, and I'll go to my room, for I've a little
work that ought to be done.  Now don't forget," he
added turning to Pond, "to keep your door locked.
Yes, lock it every time you go out; it's the only safe
way."

"It was locked this afternoon," said Pond.  "That's
what I can't understand.  I don't see how any one
could get in."

"It is strange," said Ward thoughtfully, as he
departed.  "Well, we'll hope for better things next
time.  I shouldn't say much about it to any one,
though."

Ward started down the stairs, and in the lower
hall, the one into which his own room opened, he
saw the janitor.

"Mike, come in here a minute," he said, opening
the door into his room as he spoke.

The good-natured old Irishman followed him, and
as Ward closed the door said: "I'll be after havin'
yez know that me name's not Moike, but Perfessor.
Oi'm the perfessor of dust and ashes, I'd be havin'
ye understand.  Oi'm nixt to the principal, Oi am,
and indade and Oi've been here longer nor the
doctor has."

"Yes, yes, I know," said Ward quickly, in no mood
to enter into the standing joke of "Professor
Mike."  "What I want to know is this, has any one had your
keys this afternoon?"

"Me keys, is it?  What for should I be after givin'
up the badge of me own office, I'd loike to know?
Me and me keys are foriver togither.  We're one
and the same, now and foriver.  What for should
you be after axin' me such a question as that?"

Ward thought he perceived from the janitor's
manner that he was rendered somewhat uneasy by
the question, and resolving to chance all upon one
question, he said:

"Mike, what did you let Jack Hobart have your
keys for?"

"Jack Hobart have me keys?  Is he that b'y they
call 'Speck,' what has a room over in East Hall?
Is he that same?"

"He is that same.  Now tell me about your letting
him have your keys."

"Indade, and Oi did not let him have me keys."

"All right then, Mike.  That's all I wanted to
know," and Ward made as if he were about to shut
the door.

"Hold on a bit, will yez?" said Mike, evidently
somewhat disturbed.  "Oi did not let Speck have me
keys, as Oi'm tellin' yez.  But that's not sayin' as
how I might not have lint them to the lad a bit of
a minute is it?"

"You know what I meant, Mike," said Ward, his
trouble all returning instantly.  "When did you let
him have them?  How long did he keep them?  Who
was with him?"

"Listin to the lad, will yez.  Jist listin to the
quistions he can ask, faster nor any man can count 'em,
and he the perfessor of dust and ashes at that.  Now
thin, I'll be after tellin' yez all about it," said the
janitor more soberly and evidently troubled more
than he cared to show.  "Jack Hobart came to me
and he sez, sez he, 'Me room's locked Mike and I
can't git in,' which same is true.  Sez I, 'Why don't
yez take yer key then, and unlock the door, me
bye.'  'That same's what I'd loike to do,' sez Jack, 'but
I've lost me key and Jacob's gone to his dinner.'  Ah,
that's what comes of having a haything for a
perfessor of dust and ashes instid of a white man
loike mesilf.  So whin the lad asked me to lind him
the loan of me keys, I did that same.  He didn't
be after havin' 'em more nor tin minutes, and I
shouldn't be surprised at all, at all, if he didn't
have 'em a speck over nine.  There's bin no harm
done, Oi'm thinkin'?"

Mike could not conceal his anxiety.  He had violated
a strict rule of the school in lending his bunch
of keys to any one.  He himself ought to have gone
and tried the keys himself if any one used them,
and this Ward knew as well as Mike.

"Mike," he said solemnly, "you've got yourself
into trouble.  There have been some rooms stacked
in West Hall this afternoon, and you're the one to
blame for it too.  You had no right to let any fellow
in this school have your keys."

"Indade and that same is true," said the troubled
Michael.  "Now, Mr. Ward, you'll not be after reportin'
it to the doctor, Oi'm thinkin'?  The principal
has enough to think of without addin' to his cares
and burdens.  Yez will not be after doin' that, I
know, Mr. Ward?"

The janitor could not entirely conceal his fears,
and Ward quickly resolving to make use of them
for his own advantage, said, "Not yet, Mike,
anyway.  But those East Hall fellows must not come
over here and stack our rooms.  Now if you'll
promise to keep quiet and help me find out who does the
mischief, it'll be all right.  But you'll have to keep
a careful watch.  If the thing happens again,
Dr. Gray ought to know of it."

"Oi'll trap 'em, me lad.  Oi'll help yez to fix 'em!
I will that."

"All right then, Mike.  But mind, now, you'll
have to keep both eyes open."

Michael departed troubled and yet elated over
Ward's words, just as Henry entered the room.
Ward at first had thought he would not tell his
room-mate of what had occurred, but changing his mind,
he soon told Henry all about it.

His room-mate's anger was great when he had
listened to the story, and many were his expressions
of sympathy.  He too realized that Ward was
likely to have a long and bitter struggle in the
school now, and to the boy's credit be it said, he did
not once think of the trouble it might bring upon him
as Ward's chum.

His words were comforting to the troubled Ward,
who could bear the ill will of his fellows least of all.
Indeed, the heaviness in Ward's heart arose most of
all from his loss of popularity, and how he would
bear it not even he himself could tell.

He soon went with Henry to the dining hall, but
was silent most of the time.  The slight on the
ball-field, the loss of his position on the nine, and the
"stacking" of his room, had all combined to render
him somewhat heavy-hearted and disinclined to enter
into conversation with any one.

Henry understood his friend's mood and neither
of them spoke on their way back to their room when
supper was over.  They climbed the stairs together,
and then Ward took his key from his pocket to open
the door.

As he pushed it back an exclamation of anger
burst from his lips.  The room had again been
"stacked" in their absence, and a scene of indescribable
confusion, very similar to that which Ward had
faced in the afternoon, again lay before them.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`PERPLEXITY`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER VIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   PERPLEXITY

.. vspace:: 2

An exclamation of anger burst forth from Ward's
lips, and even Henry's ordinary calm was somewhat
disturbed by the sight.  Chairs, tables, bedding,
and carpets were all piled in one indiscriminate
mass in the center of the room.  The dim light from
the hall only served to increase the impression of
confusion.

"Well, Henry," said Ward ruefully, when they
entered the room and had carefully shut the door,
"it's too bad that you have to be punished too for my
sins.  Whoever did this, evidently intended to make
a thorough piece of work of it.  Isn't it a sight to
behold!"

"Never mind me, Ward," said Henry quietly.
"I'm ready to take my share; all I'm sorry about is
that somebody has such a mean spirit.  What fun
there can be in tearing everything to pieces like this
I cannot see for my part."

"It hasn't been done for the fun of it; you can rest
easy about that," replied Ward.  "I wish the one
who did it was here now.  I'd make him take a hand
in fixing up the room again.  Hello, the lamp's
broken!" he added angrily as he found the broken
lamp in the midst of the heap on the floor.  "Yes,
and they've poured the oil all over everything too.
It's a good deal worse than it was this afternoon and
that was bad enough.  We'll have to borrow a lamp,
I'm thinking."

"No, mine's all right," said Henry quickly, as he
drew forth his own lamp from the border of the
confused mass.

In a moment he had lighted it, and both boys
stood for a moment and gazed ruefully at the wreck
before them.  Ward was almost too angry to speak
now.  All his quiet labor in the afternoon had been
useless, and now a task even worse than the one
which he had faced then was before him.

"We might as well go at it now as any time," said
Henry quietly, removing his coat as he spoke, and
preparing to begin the work.  "It's got to be done,
Ward, and the sooner we do it the better.  Come on,
old fellow, we'll soon have it all straightened out."

Ward made no reply, but he at once prepared to
follow his room-mate's example, and soon both boys
were busily at work.  Several times there came a
rap on their door, but they did not heed it, for
neither was in a mood to welcome callers.

They continued eagerly at the task, working
rapidly, and it was not long before the room began
to take on once more something of its former
appearance.  The study bell had rung, however,
before their labors were ended, and the rap on the
door which soon came they recognized at once as
Mr. Blake's.

Ward himself opened the door in response to the
summons, and as he stood facing the tall teacher the
flush on his face caused by his anger and his
exertions had not entirely disappeared.

"I'm surprised, Hill, not to find you at your
studies.  A senior ought not to set an example like
this.  I shall wait to see that you begin your work
promptly and properly."

Ward was too angry to offer any explanation.  He
bade Mr. Blake enter, and as he offered him a chair,
he saw that Henry had at last succeeded in partially
adjusting the last remaining belongings of the room.

"We're all right now, Mr. Blake," said Henry
quietly.  "There were some things which had to be
attended to before we could begin to study."

"You ought not to take the study hours for such
work," responded Mr. Blake, rising as he spoke.
"I've heard you pounding up here for some time, and
hoped you'd settle down so as not to disturb the
others.  You ought to bear in mind that there are
other boys as well as yourselves in West Hall, and
some of them I'm glad to say manifest a disposition
to work."

As Mr. Blake went out of the room Ward could
restrain himself no longer.  "That's always the way
with that man!" he said angrily.  "No matter what
you do, or how hard you try, it's all the same.  He
has to put in his word and it's always the wrong
word at the right time too.  I wish he didn't have
charge of West Hall."

"Oh, well, never mind, Ward.  He doesn't understand
us very well, that's a fact; but so long as we
know he doesn't, we know about what to expect.
We'll get to work now and forget all about
Mr. Blake, and that the room ever was stacked.  It
doesn't look how as if it had been troubled.  You
can't see anything wrong about it, can you?"

"No, but I can smell it," said Ward half-laughingly,
for the odor of the kerosene which had been
spilled was only too apparent in the room.

However, the boys soon seated themselves by
Henry's table and began their work for the evening.
It was some time before Ward could bring his
thoughts to bear upon the work in hand, but at
last he succeeded and studied hard all the evening.

"There, I haven't my work all done," he said when
at last the bell was rung indicating that the end of
the study hour had come.  "I must have more time.
I'm going down to ask Mr. Blake for permission to
sit up a little longer."

"Let me go," said Henry quickly, but Ward was
out of the room by this time and made no reply.

In response to his request Mr. Blake shook his
head and refused permission.  Ward went slowly
back to his room thoroughly angry.  The teacher's
manner betrayed his suspicion of the boy, and Ward
did not take time to consider that Mr. Blake did not
know anything of the new resolution he had formed,
or of the struggle which was going on in his own
mind.

He closed the door with a slam as he came back
and expressed his opinion in no mild terms of the
man who was in charge of West Hall.  Henry strove
to soothe the angry feelings of his room-mate, but
without avail, and when at last the boys retired for
the night, Ward's anger had steadily increased.

"Even Mr. Crane would be satisfied now," he
thought as he drew the bedclothes up around him.
"I've got enough anger, as he called it, to supply
every boy in West Hall."

But he was too tired to cherish his feelings for
any length of time and was soon asleep.

He was awake long before the breakfast hour, and
hastily arising resumed his studying.  By the time
Henry had joined him he had his work all done, and
felt that he was thoroughly ready for the tasks of
the day.  The fact gave him much satisfaction, and
when they started toward the dining hall much of his
anger had disappeared, so far as any outward
manifestation of it was concerned; but deep down in his
heart Ward was thinking of his own troubles.  Perhaps
he even tried to cherish the feeling of anger a
trifle, for it was so much more easy to work and face
the school when he was aroused, than it was when
only the fact of his own unpopularity was most apparent.

However, he had decided upon one course of action,
at least, and that was what he would have to
say to Jack Hobart.  A fine friend he was!  After
all his protestations of friendship, to go over to West
Hall and get the keys to his room!  For Ward had
not a doubt in his mind that Jack had been the one
to carry out the scheme which he believed Tim
Pickard had concocted.  Not that Jack had "stacked" the
room himself.  Ward did not for a moment believe
that.  But he knew Jack Hobart so well that he was
certain he would strive to keep in the good graces of
all the school, and if he saw the tide setting too
strongly against him Ward somehow felt that Jack
would desert him.  Had he not done that very thing
in the preceding year?  It was true he had professed
to be sorry, but what did "feeling sorry"
amount to, since he failed to stand beside him when
troubles came?

Jack had expected trouble to come too, and Ward
thought somewhat bitterly of his friend's words,
and how he had declared that his vertebræ and
upper lip should manifest their power in the time of
trial.  And the trying time had come.

Ward thought of the scene a few days before this
time at the Rockford Station, when Jack had come
on the afternoon train.  How eager he had been then
for him to come back to the Weston school!  And
what strong words concerning his own friendship he
had used too!  And Ward had believed him; that
was the worst of it all.

But the "Tangs" had declared against him, and
the troubled boy could not entirely shake off the
feeling that Jack had not broken with them, and
that his own troubles were mainly to be traced to
that body.  Doubtless they were compelling Jack to
bear his share now, and were hoping to increase his
own troubles by that very fact.

Ward's heart was filled with these somewhat bitter
reflections as he entered the Latin room.  How
cool all the boys were to him!  Scarcely any one had
a word for him now, and only a few months before
they had been free enough with their applause and
words of praise.

Jack was already in his seat when Ward entered
and his beaming face showed that he evidently was
waiting for him to come.

"I say, valedic," said Jack, as Ward took his seat,
"just translate a bit of this stuff for me, will you?
It's too much for me.  My massive brain is not equal
for the task."

"There won't be time," said Ward coldly.  "Here's
Mr. Crane now."

Jack looked at him a moment in surprise and
Ward noticed somewhat bitterly that he was
evidently pained too.  What a hypocrite he must
be! or else Ward must have been mistaken in supposing
Jack was concerned in the upsetting of his room.
But that was hardly possible.  Had not Mike
himself said he had loaned his bunch of keys to him?
Surely no other one then could be at fault.

The recitation now began and as Ward was soon
called upon to recite, all other thoughts were
immediately banished from his mind.  He did his work
well and noted the quiet smile upon Mr. Crane's face
as he took his seat.  It was the mark of approval
which he always gave when the work was done to
his complete satisfaction.

Ward's troubles, however, soon returned.  Of
what advantage was it all for him to do well in his
classes when apparently the hand of every fellow in
the school seemed to be turned against him?  Outside
of Henry and Little Pond it did not seem as if
he had a friend left.  He wished he had not come
back to the school.  But he had come, there was no
escape from that fact, and all that remained now
was to be as brave as possible and not be overcome
by his enemies.

And yet how easy it would be to put an end to all
his annoyances and once more be at peace with the
boys.  There was his place on the nine too; he knew
he could have it again.  All he would have to do to
regain that and also to have the popularity which
once was his, was to go in with the "Tangs" once more.

Ward glanced up at Mr. Crane.  How he did
respect the man!  How kind he had been during the
summer, and how sincere his interest was now!
Then too, there was Little Pond, who placed such
implicit confidence in him.  He was almost irritated
by the dependence of the lad, and yet he liked the
little fellow in spite of it all.  No, he could not yield
now, Ward thought.  He had begun, and he must
carry the struggle through to the end.

When the hour came to a close, Ward realized that
although he had made a good recitation himself, he
had not heard much of what had been said by either
Mr. Crane or the boys.  He had been busied with his
own thoughts and fighting again the battle which
seemed as if it never was to cease.

"I say, Jack," he said as the boys rose to pass out
of the room, "I want to see you."

"I'm glad of it, Ward," replied Jack as he joined
Ward, and they walked together across the campus
toward Dr. Gray's room.  "I'd begun to think you
never wanted to see me again.  I've been racking
my brains to see what the difficulty was."

"Jack," said Ward, apparently ignoring his declaration,
"what did you get Professor Mike's keys for
yesterday?"

"What did I get Mike's keys for?" repeated Jack,
a look of astonishment creeping over his face as he
spoke.  "I don't know what you mean.  I haven't
had his keys."

His astonishment apparently was sincere and for
the first time Ward's heart misgave him.  Could it
be that he had been mistaken?  But there was the
janitor's own declaration.  He himself had said he
had loaned the keys to Jack, and certainly he could
have no motive in saying so if it had not been true.
He had implicated himself by the statement as it was,
and had openly confessed to violating one of the
strictest of Dr. Gray's rules by doing so.  No, Mike
must have told the truth; there could be no other
explanation.

"You haven't had Mike's keys?" said Ward,
slowly turning and looking Jack full in the face.

"No; honor bright, I haven't had 'em, Ward.  No,
hold on!  Let me see!  Come to think of it, I did ask
him for them yesterday, that's a fact, but I'd forgotten
all about it till you brought it back to my
benighted mind."

"Oh, then you did have them," said Ward bitterly,
not able to repress the sneer on his face as he spoke.

"Why, yes," said Jack.  "The way of it was this,
I was over by West Hall.  The fact is, Ward, I was
there to get you to go down to the ball ground.  One
of the boys wanted to get a bat which was up in my
room, but Luscious had my keys and I asked Mike
for his.  There was no harm in that, was there, Ward?"

"Who was the fellow that you gave them to, or
did you go yourself?"

"No, I didn't go myself; but I see there's something
wrong, so I don't believe I ought to tell you
who the chap was.  I'm afraid there's something off
color."

"Very well," said Ward; "of course you can do as
you please about that.  I think, though, I may be
able to get along without your information.  You'd
made so many protests that you were my friend that
I didn't know but you'd be willing to help me out in
this.  But I sha'n't trouble you if you don't want to
tell me."

Ward could see a look of pain come over Jack's
face as he spoke, but his own heart was hard and
bitter, and apparently he cared but little for the
effect his words might produce.

"I say, Ward, old fellow," said Jack quietly, "don't
talk like that.  It hurts me.  I was just going to say
something to you, but the way you act makes me
think you wouldn't care to hear it."

They were now at the entrance to the recitation
room and the conversation naturally ceased.  Ward
was sadly perplexed.  Jack's astonishment and
evident pain at his words troubled him greatly.

Jack was willing to enter into conversation when
the recitation was over, but Ward hastened out of
the room and gave him no opportunity.  The truth
was he was so troubled by Jack's manner that he
was afraid he would give in to him and in his anger
he had resolved not to do that.

When he opened the door into his room, his anger,
knew no bounds when again he discovered that the
room was in confusion.  Twice during the rest of
that week the same thing occurred, and both Ward
and Henry were desperate.  Something must be
done.

"Mike," said Ward sharply to the janitor, whom
he met alone in the hall on Friday afternoon, "our
room is stacked every day and you're no good as a
watch.  I believe some one has taken the key to my
room from your ring.  Look and see, will you?"

The "professor of dust and ashes" fumbled at the
huge bunch he carried, and very much crestfallen at
last said, "Indade and yer right, Mister Ward.  The
key's not here at all, at all."

"That's what I thought.  Now see if 'twenty-three'
is gone too."  Twenty-three was the number
of Little Pond's room.

"Be jabbers and that's gone too.  Ye'll not be
after tellin' the principal, will yez?" said Mike
anxiously.

"I don't know.  I'll see about that later.  Mike,
can you put a new lock on my door and on Pond's this
afternoon?  I mean while we're here and no one will
see you at the work?"

"Indade, and I can that," replied the anxious
janitor.

"Well, do it then right away.  I've got a plan for
catching the rascals and I want the new lock on right
off.  If you can do that now, it will help me and I
sha'n't have to see the doctor."

Mike departed and returned with two new locks,
which he at once placed on the doors, Ward meanwhile
keeping watch to see that the work of the janitor
was not discovered, and cautioning him about
keeping his duplicate key.

With a feeling of elation, Ward at once prepared
to put his newly formed plan into execution.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`AN INTERVIEW WITH JACK`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER IX


.. class:: center medium bold

   AN INTERVIEW WITH JACK

.. vspace:: 2

Ward at once left his room and went to search
for Little Pond.  He met the lad coming across the
campus, and in response to his invitation, the little
fellow immediately returned with him, and for a long
time they sat together in Pond's room and talked
over the plan which Ward had formed.

"You see it's this way," said Ward.  "We can't let
this thing go on forever, for it's beginning to tell on
us already.  What with setting the room to rights
and never knowing what to expect, it doesn't leave
very much time for studying, and that's what I want
this term.  Now Mike has put a new lock on my
door and on yours too, so these fellows won't be able
to break in for a day or two, anyway."

"Then I don't see what you can do," said Pond.
"If they can't get in, they can't do any mischief, and
if they don't do any mischief, you can't catch them."

"That's all true; but what I want is to find out
who the fellows are.  I know well enough now, but I
want the proof, you see.  Now, my plan is this.
They won't have any keys to the new locks, so they
can't get in now if they try, and I don't think they'll
try to-day.  But to-morrow is Saturday, and in the
afternoon we don't have any recitations, you know.
Well, I'm going off up to the glen to-morrow
afternoon and I'll take pains to let it be known that I
sha'n't be in my room.  That'll leave the coast all
clear, you see, and I think somebody will be pretty
sure to come up and try to get in while I'm away.
Then I want you to stay in your room and keep
watch.  You can have your door just a little bit ajar,
and whenever you hear any one coming up the stairs,
you can keep an eye on them.  You can see them
without being seen yourself, and if they go and try
to get in my room, or come up to yours, why, then
we'll know who it is that's doing the work, though
I don't think there's any difficulty now in picking out
the ones who have been the prime movers in it."

"All right, Ward," replied Pond; "I'll do it."

"You see it's as much to your advantage as it is to
mine," said Ward, as he rose to depart.  "We don't
want this thing kept up any longer, and I think if
we can catch the fellows now, we'll put an end to it,
though it may break out somewhere else in a worse
way."

Satisfied with what he had done, Ward ran down
the stairs, and just as he was unlocking the door of
his room, Henry and Jack Hobart came up together
into the hall.  Ward's first impulse was to turn and
leave the building.  He had no desire to meet Jack
then, but quickly changing his purpose, he unlocked
the door and waited for the two boys to enter.

"Hello, Ward!" said Jack.  "We've been talking
about you, and finally decided we'd better stop that
and come straight over here and talk to you."

Ward made no reply, and as Henry was apparently
busied in arranging the papers and books on his
table, Jack felt that the burden of the conversation
was resting upon himself.

Ward noticed that he was somewhat constrained
in his manner, nor was he displeased to see it.  For
was not Jack the one who had obtained Mike's key?
And while he might not be the one who had wrought
the mischief in his room, still he was so thoroughly
satisfied in his own mind that Jack was aware of
what was going on and had lent his influence to
further it, that it was with something of a feeling of
satisfaction he noted the evident uneasiness of his
visitor.

"The way of it is this," said Jack, breaking in
upon the awkward silence.  "We need you on the
nine, Ward, there's no mistake about that.  If we
are going to have any show against the Burrs this
fall, we've just got to have your help.  There's no
mistake about that, and that's what I've come over
to talk with you about."

"Did Tim Pickard send you?" asked Ward, making
no effort to conceal the sneer on his face.

"No," said Jack quietly, "and that's where the
mischief comes in.  There's no doubt that Tim's
down on you, Ward.  You don't need me to tell you
that."

"Hardly."

"But Tim isn't the whole of the Weston school.
It's true he's got a lot of the fellows under his thumb
and they'll do just what he tells them to.  That's the
way he succeeded in shutting you off from the nine.
He pretended to call a meeting, but he never told
Henry here nor me about it.  He claims he had a
majority there and that they voted not to have you on
the nine this fall.  He couldn't have done it if we'd
been there, and Tim knows it too."

Ward still made no reply save to glance at Jack,
who was now talking eagerly and apparently had
overcome his recent feeling of embarrassment.

"Henry and I have been talking it over," continued
Jack, "and we've about decided that we've found a
way out, and that's what I came over especially to
explain.  Now, Ward, if you'll go in with us I think
we'll have it fixed up in no time."

"I can't go in when I don't know what it is you
want me to go into."

"It's this, Ward.  Henry and I have decided that
we sha'n't play on the nine unless you are taken on
too."

"What?" said Ward abruptly.

He could hardly believe the words he had just
heard.  That Jack, who had taken Professor Mike's
key, and who plainly must be aware of the troubles
which were besetting him now on every side, should
be the one to make such a proposition as that to
which he had just listened seemed to Ward almost
incredible.  It would completely change every plan
in his mind if Jack meant what he had said, and so
far as appearances went, the boy seemed to be
thoroughly in earnest.

"Yes," said Jack, "that's just what I mean.  I
don't believe that even Tim would care to lose both
Henry and me just now, for he'd know he'd have the
whole school down on him at once.  It's bad enough
to lose you, and there are a lot of the fellows who
don't like it a little bit.  Tim knows it, but he won't
let on.  Now, if Henry and I just quit too, it'll place
Tim in a box too tight even for him."

"Then your plan is to force Tim to take me on the
nine by threatening to leave yourselves if he doesn't,
is it?" said Ward slowly.

"That's it, that's it," said Jack eagerly.  "He'll
have to come to time then."

"Well, I don't think I shall do it," said Ward
deliberately.  "Not that I shouldn't like to play on the
nine.  I'm not foolish enough to deny that, for I
should, of course; but I don't care to force myself in
where I'm not wanted."

"That isn't it, Ward," said Jack still more eagerly.
"You are wanted--that is, nearly every fellow in the
school wants you except Tim Pickard.  Now, the
question is whether you're going to let one fellow
like Tim stand against the whole school.  Why, I
think even Luscious will go into the scheme and help
squeeze Tim."

Ward felt that in spite of all his efforts his heart
was becoming softer.  Always susceptible to praise,
the words of Jack were like balm to his troubled soul.
He longed, far more than any one knew, to be at
peace with the boys, and if once he were restored to
his position on the nine, he felt confident he could
easily regain his popularity.

But his anger at Tim was still strong, though Jack
puzzled him sadly.  Could it be that he had a share
in the schemes which were then afoot?  The mystery
of the stolen key certainly indicated something of
the kind, and yet with all his faults Jack Hobart
would not lie, Ward felt assured of that.  The
thought of Jack's honesty suddenly brought Ward to
a quick determination.  He would speak to him without
reserve of his troubles and see how he received
his words.

"Jack," he said abruptly, "did you know that we'd
had our room stacked almost every day since we
came back to Weston?"

"No," said Jack in genuine surprise; "I didn't
know a thing about it.  You've kept it to yourself
pretty well, not even to mention it to me."

"Well, it's been stacked, that's sure.  I think
we've spent more time tacking down our carpet and
setting up our beds than we have in studying;
haven't we, Henry?"

Henry glanced up in surprise that Ward should
mention their trouble, but he smiled and nodded his
head by way of reply, though he did not speak.

"Ward, that's tough," said Jack soberly.  "I'm
sorry you didn't tell me about it, for maybe I could
have helped you.  Have you any idea who it is that's
doing it?"

"Yes," said Ward sharply; "but I'm only waiting
for positive proof, and I think I'm close on to the
track of that.  One thing I've found out for sure,
and that's some help."

"What's that?"

"Oh, nothing much.  Only that Mike has lost two
of his keys and we know who took them.  It wasn't
very much of a trick to find that out, you know."  Ward
spoke quietly, but he was watching keenly to
see what the effect of his words upon Jack would be.

Suddenly Jack looked up and his face flushed
deeply.  "Ward," said he, "was that the reason you
asked me the other day if I had borrowed Mike's
bunch of keys?"

"Yes," said Ward quietly.

"Well, old fellow, I don't know what I can say, if
you really think I'd do such a thing.  I did ask for
the loan of the keys, that's a fact, but I didn't use
them myself."  Jack acted as if he were about to say
more, but hesitated and became silent.

Ward was puzzled and his manner clearly betrayed
the fact.  The silence in the room was decidedly
awkward for all concerned, and the boys shifted
uneasily in their seats.

Jack was the first to speak, as he said: "It looks
queer, I know, Ward, but I don't want to tell you who
took the keys.  There's something crooked, and I'm
going to help you out of the scrape if I can.  I'd tell
you in a minute, I would honestly, who took the keys
from me, but I am just sure he didn't stack your
room.  But I'll help you find out and I'll help you
straighten out the fellow too."

"I think the 'Tangs' may have had something to
do with it," said Ward.

It was the first time the name of the secret organization
had been mentioned since he had left school at
the close of the preceding year.  Somehow it had
been a tabooed subject and neither had referred to it
in their letters or conversation.  Jack had considered
it a subject on which Ward might be somewhat sensitive,
and Ward had been uncertain as to what Jack's
plans would be.

"What makes you think the 'Tangs' had anything
to do with it?" said Jack, after a pause of a moment,
in which the uneasiness of the boys was still marked.

"Because I received one of their gentle little
epistles before this trouble began."

"I haven't heard a word of the 'Tangs' since I
came back to school," said Jack thoughtfully.  "I
didn't know they'd started up again, and I'm sure I
hoped the thing was dead.  It is dead so far as I'm
concerned, for I've washed my hands of the whole
business.  I told Tim so before I came back to
school, and if he knows when he's well off he'll let it
alone too.  He's got enough to do to keep himself
straight with the faculty without going into the
'Tangs' again.  But, Ward, I mean just what I say;
I'm going to take off my coat and help you to find out
about this matter, and if we once catch the fellow
we'll give him a dose that'll cure him, I know."

"Thank you."

"You don't appear to be very enthusiastic," said
Jack quietly.

It was evident that he was hurt by Ward's apparent
lack of confidence in him; but his affection for his
friend was so genuine and strong that he plainly was
not to be put off by any of Ward's rebuffs.

"We'll talk about that later," said Jack as he rose
to depart.  "What I want to know now is whether
you'll come down on the ball-ground to-morrow
afternoon, and then Henry and I'll speak our little
piece to Tim and we'll have it out.  Tim'll give in, I
know he will, for he isn't over happy as it is.  He
knows how a good many of the fellows feel, and
besides that he wants the nine strengthened."

"I can't do it, Speck," said Ward at last, using the
familiar nickname by which he had been accustomed
to call his friend, for the first time in several days.
"It's mighty good of you; but, you see, I just couldn't
go on the nine in any such way as that."

"Then Henry and I'll quit too," said Jack emphatically.

"No, you won't.  That would certainly spoil it all.
I want you both to keep right on.  There's no necessity
for you to give up because I can't go in, and besides
I've something else in mind just now, and if
you both leave it'll spoil it all.  I couldn't come down
to-morrow, anyway, for I've planned to go and spend
the afternoon up at the glen.  Honest, Speck, I do
thank you for your offer.  It's mighty good of you,
but I don't want you to do it yet, anyway.  Maybe a
little later I'll come in, but not just yet."

"All right, Ward.  Have it your own way.  You
always do, somehow.  Well, I must go over and see
how Luscious is making out.  He's a fine fellow,
Luscious is, and he's going to push you for the
valedic, as sure's you live."

"He's a good worker; any one can see that," said
Ward as Jack departed.

"The plot thickens," he added turning to Henry.
"For the life of me I can't see the way out as yet."

"I feel sure of one thing," said Henry, "and that
is, that Jack's had nothing to do with it."

"I hope you're right," replied Ward thoughtfully;
"but it's strange about those keys."

"Yes; but Jack can explain it, and he will before
long."

Ward then explained the plan he had formed with
Little Pond, and Henry agreed with him that it
would be better for him and Jack to go down to the
ball-ground, in view of what Ward had it in mind to
do, and to appear as if they were not suspicious of
any one or of any thing.

Accordingly, on the following afternoon Ward
started out with Big Smith for a tramp to the glen,
one of the favorite resorts of the Weston boys.  He
had taken pains to speak of his intended absence in
the hearing of several of the boys of whom he had
felt somewhat suspicious, and after having conferred
with Little Pond, who promised to observe all his
directions, the two boys departed from West Hall.

Ward's heart was much lighter than it had been
for several days now.  Puzzled as he was over Jack's
part in the affair, the evident affection he had
recently displayed led Ward to believe that still he
was not entirely without friends.  Even Big Smith
was not to be despised, and Ward was surprised to
observe the many changes which had come over the
strange lad.  His assumption had not entirely
disappeared, and his former complete ignorance that
there was any one else in the world of quite as much
importance as he, was not yet all gone.  But Big
Smith was learning some of the lessons which in
another form Ward Hill himself was also compelled
to learn.

That morning Doctor Gray in his chapel talk had
referred to the story of Wellington, when at one
time he had visited the great English school at Eton,
and after watching the eager crowd of boys in their
struggles and games, had said, "Here Waterloo was
won."

Ward was thinking of the words all that afternoon.
If Wellington had really won the victory of
Waterloo at Eton, then Napoleon must have lost it
under similar conditions, he thought, and he
wondered whether Weston might not be solving some
such problems also.  As for himself, Ward Hill
fully appreciated the fact that he was in the midst of
a struggle, and to the lad's credit be it said, out of it
all came a stronger determination that his battle
should not be lost.

He had enjoyed the afternoon thoroughly, and
when he returned he ran eagerly up to Little Pond's
room to learn whether he had discovered anything
or not.

"Yes," said Pond, "I've found out some things.
Come in and I'll tell you all about it."

Ward eagerly followed his little friend into his
room, and taking a seat, turned to listen to what
Pond had to tell him.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE SCENE IN RIPLEY'S ROOM`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER X


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE SCENE IN RIPLEY'S ROOM

.. vspace:: 2

"I kept the door open a little," began Pond, "so
that I could hear any one who might come up the
stairs.  Most of the fellows were down on the
ball-ground or had gone off on the hills, so there wasn't
very much going on.  I think I'd been waiting more
than an hour before I heard a sound that was in any
way suspicious, and I'll own up I began to be a little
tired.  I thought there wasn't any one going to come
and I'd about made up my mind there wasn't any use
in watching any longer, and I was just about to get a
book and go to reading when I heard a step on the
lower stairway.  Of course there wasn't anything
very bad in that, for I knew some of the fellows
would be running in and out on a half-holiday, but
there was something a little strange in this
particular case.  The fellow would come up two or three
steps--and he didn't make very much noise about it
either--and then he'd stop a minute before he came on."

"Was there only one?" inquired Ward, deeply
interested in what Pond was relating.

"Only one then.  Well, the fellow came up to the
floor on which your room is and then he stopped.  I
couldn't see him of course, as he'd gone up to your
door, I judged.  I didn't just know what to do,
and when I'd made up my mind to go out and take
a peep over the railing, I heard the fellow come back
to the head of the stairs and give a low whistle.
You'd better believe I was excited about that time,
but I managed somehow to keep quiet and wait.
Pretty soon another fellow came up the stairs, and
then I heard them go through the hall and stop, as
I thought, before your door."

"Go on, go on," said Ward quickly, as Pond
seemed to hesitate a moment.

"Well, I crept out of my room, and I wasn't making
very much noise either, you can believe, and as
I went down the stairway a few steps, trying hard
all the time to keep perfectly quiet, I bent over and
took a peep at your hall.  There were two chaps
right in front of your door."

"What were they doing?"

"They were working at the lock with a key which
one of them took out of his pocket.  Somehow the
key didn't work very well, for I've a notion that
Mike hadn't told them about the new locks he'd put
on your door and mine."

"Too bad," said Ward.  "Well, what did they do then?"

"One of them happened to look up and he saw
me peeking at them.  I tried to dodge back so that
they couldn't see me, but I was too late; they'd
spied me.  They made a rush through the hall and
up the stairs to my room, but I'd got inside before
they'd come, and bolted the door.  They coaxed
and teased me to open up for 'em, but I wasn't to
be caught by any such chaff as that, and then they
began to threaten me with all sorts of terrible things.
They tried too, to open my door with a key, but it
wasn't of any use, and if they had had a key that
would have fitted the lock it wouldn't have helped
them any, for the door was bolted on the inside, you
see."

"Who were the fellows?"

"One of 'em was Ripley; he rooms over in East I
think, but I didn't know who the other was.  I could
tell him if I saw him again, though, I'm sure of
that."

Ward sat silent for a moment.  He knew Ripley
well.  He was in the class below him.  He had never
regarded him as a vicious boy, and the worst thing
he knew about him was that he belonged to the
"Tangs."  He also recalled the fact that he was a
great admirer of Tim Pickard, and while he was not
an intimate friend, he had seen him many times
in Tim's company.  He was a boy Tim could easily
influence and would follow any orders the leader
might give him.

The mystery was becoming somewhat cleared
now.  Doubtless Tim was the one to whom Jack
had given Mike's bunch of keys, and he had not only
gone to Jack's room and obtained the bat they
wanted, but he had taken the keys to Ward's and
Pond's rooms from the ring at the same time.  It
was all clear now, and Ward felt a great relief as he
satisfied himself that Jack was innocent of any
knowledge or share in the stacking of his room.

"You've done well, Little Pond," said Ward
warmly, as he rose to depart.  "I think we can put
a stop to this particular line of fun now.  I think
I'll go over and begin the operation at once."

"Where are you going, Ward?  Can't I go with
you?" called Little Pond from the head of the
stairway; but Ward was already in the lower hall and
made no reply.  He wanted to be alone now and
while his heart was hot within him to carry out the
further plan he had already quickly formed.

The eager boy walked swiftly across the campus
toward East Hall.  He was not at all sure that he
would find Ripley in his room, but he would at least
find out whether he was or not, and as the bell for
supper would soon be rung he wished to do that
much before he went to the dining hall.

As he drew near East Hall he saw a crowd of boys
returning from the ball-ground.  Their presence in
the building might greatly complicate matters, so
he increased his speed and leaping up two steps at
a time he ran up the stairs to the third floor and
rapped on the door of Ripley's room.

Ripley himself opened the door, but as soon as
he saw who his caller was, he tried to shut the door
in his face.  Ward, however, was too quick for him,
and slipped into the room, and then he himself shut
the door and instantly bolted it.

He was thoroughly angry now.  Ripley plainly
betrayed his guilt and alarm by his manner, and as
Ward looked at him a moment in silence the first
impulse in his heart was to mete out a summary and
just punishment for the sneaking outrage of which
he had been guilty.

As Ward glanced about the well-furnished room
and contrasted it with his own somewhat bare
apartments in West Hall, his bitterness increased.  Was
it not enough that he should be compelled to go
without many of the things which such a fellow as
Ripley had for the asking, without also having to
suffer all the petty annoyances which the latter chose
to inflict upon him?  His anger was clearly manifest,
for the troubled lad was in a towering rage,
and as he realized that the boy he thought had
stacked his room so many times was at last in his
power, his first and natural impulse was to express
his feelings in a manner which Ripley might not
enjoy, but which he would certainly remember.

Ripley evidently was alarmed.  His pale face and
trembling hands plainly revealed that.  He stood
watching his caller, and not a word had as yet been
spoken.

Suddenly Ripley started toward the open window.
Ward instantly suspected that he was about to call
to the crowd of boys who were then on the ground
below and stood talking together near the entrance.

Before the boy could reach the place, however, or
open his lips to call to his friends, Ward leaped
before him, and standing with his back to the
window, he said to the frightened lad before him:

"None of that, Ripley; keep away from these windows.
I'll fix it so that they won't do you any good,"
he quickly added, as he instantly turned and removed
the prop which held the window up.  The sash fell
and Ripley perceived that it would be useless to
call for help, and that he stood alone before the
angry young senior.

"Now, Ripley, I've come over to have it out with
you."  Ward spoke slowly and in a low tone of voice,
but the very quietness of his manner increased the
alarm of the boy before him.

"I-I d-don't know what you mean, Ward Hill;
what have I done?"

"What have you done?" retorted Ward, his voice
rising as his anger broke forth.  "What haven't you
done?  Who's stacked my room almost every day?
Who's poured kerosene over my bedding?  Who's
done the thousand and one contemptible things that
no one but a sneak and a coward would ever think
of doing?"  Ward's anger was rapidly increasing
and as he enumerated his woes, each fresh mention
of them served to enrage him the more.

"I never stacked your room, Ward Hill; I've
never been in it since I've been in the Weston school;
I never touched your bedclothes or your lamp; I
haven't been in West Hall but once since I came back
to school this fall.  Honest, Ward, I'm telling you
the truth; I am, Ward.  Won't you believe me?"

All the fear of the lad seemed to speak in his
words and voice, and for a moment Ward was almost
staggered.  And yet had not Little Pond told him
less than half an hour before that he had seen this
very lad trying to get into his room?  Had Pond
been mistaken?  No, it could not be possible.  The
very manner of Ripley betrayed his guilt.

"Ripley," said Ward more slowly, "you were seen
in West Hall this very afternoon when you were
trying to get into my room.  You can't deny that."  He
waited a moment, but the boy before him did not
speak.

"If the truth was known," continued Ward, "I
believe you've got the very key you tried to use in
your pocket now.  What were you doing there?" he
added sternly.

"I was there this afternoon, but it was my first
turn--I mean the first time I'd been there.  I haven't
been in West Hall before this term."

Ward hesitated.  Possibly Ripley was speaking
truly.  He knew that Tim was shrewd and it might
be that he had used different boys to do his bidding
at various times.  The expression which Ripley had
unconsciously let slip, that it was his first turn, might
understood in that light.  However, his disposition
had been clearly manifest, even by his own confession,
and Ward's feeling of anger instantly returned.

"Ripley, you've got that key to my room I believe
in your pocket now.  Hand it over to me and I'll let
you off this time."

"Not if I know myself," replied Ripley, his courage
having evidently in a measure returned as he
perceived Ward's momentary hesitation.

"You won't give it to me?"

"No, I won't give it to you," replied Ripley still
more boldly.

"Then I'll take it."

And as he spoke Ward quickly sprang forward
and grasped the boy by the shoulder.

Instantly all of Ripley's fears returned.  Before
Ward fairly realized what was occurring he had
emitted three or four shrieks for help.

"Help!  help!  Come! come!  Help me!  Help!  Help!"

If Ward had not been so angry and startled by
the unexpected sounds he would have laughed.  He
had not harmed the boy, for he had only grasped him
roughly by the shoulder.  But evidently Ripley was
thoroughly alarmed by Ward's manner and believed
that his last hour had come.

In a moment there was a rush of boys up the
stairway and they were pounding upon the door eagerly
striving to open it or break it in.

Taking advantage of Ward's momentary confusion,
Ripley slipped from his grasp and hastily
drew back the bolt of the door and flung it wide
open.  A dozen or more boys rushed into the room,
Tim Pickard at their head, and stopped a moment
in surprise as they gazed at the two boys.

Scarcely a word had been uttered, however, before
Ward heard some one speaking in the doorway.  He
instantly recognized the voice as that of Mr. Crane,
and his anger gave way to a feeling of embarrassment.

"What's the meaning of this?" said Mr. Crane
quietly, though his manner was somewhat stern.  "I
want you all to go immediately to your own rooms."

The boys started to obey at once, Ward being the
last to pass Mr. Crane, who stood holding the door
open for them to go through.

"I'm surprised, Hill," he said quietly as Ward
passed him.  "You will come and explain this later
to me, I am sure."

"I'm ready to explain it now," said Ward eagerly.

"Not now, Hill," said Mr. Crane, smiling for the
first time as he marked the eagerness of the lad.
"Come over to-morrow evening."

"I'll come," said Ward quickly.  "I don't want
you to think too badly of me, Mr. Crane."

"And I don't want to.  I hardly think I shall have
to," he added, as he noted Ward's manner.

"May I go down to Speck's room now--I mean
Jack's--I mean Jack Hobart's?"

"Yes, if you think it will be safe?" said Mr. Crane
quietly.  "From the sounds that came from this room
I thought that murder at least was being committed,
and I don't want to hear a repetition of
these ear-splitting screeches."

Ward left the teacher and going down to Jack's
room was speedily admitted.  Then he soon related
the entire story before Jack and his chum Berry.

The boys listened soberly and when at last the
story was ended, Jack said: "Well, Ward, it's a
relief to me that you've dug the thing out.  You
made one mistake, though."

"What's that?"

"You ought never to have tried to chastise Ripley
when he was in East Hall.  Don't you know by this
time that there's no fooling in any building
Mr. Crane has charge of?"

"I wasn't going to chastise Ripley.  All I was
going to do was to take the key away from him.  Of
course that isn't any good, now that there's a new
lock on my door; but it would be positive proof that
Ripley had a hand in it, you see."

"And what good would that do you, I'd like to
know?  Suppose you did have the proof; you wouldn't
take it over to the doctor, would you?"

"No, I don't suppose I would," said Ward slowly.
"I never told on a fellow yet."

"And you're not going to begin now.  It's hard
lines for you, old fellow, I know that as well as you
do; but it's just one of the things a chap's got to
straighten out for himself.  He can't report it, you
know; that would only make a bad matter worse."

"I suppose you're right," said Ward soberly.  He
was thinking of his evening interview with Mr. Crane.
He had intended to relate the circumstances
just as they were, and felt positive that the teacher
would sympathize with him rather than blame him.

Jack's words, however, he at once realized were
true.  In accordance with the false code of honor
of the school, he could not cure his evils by seeking
outside help.  And the boys he knew were merciless
in carrying out their own ideas of justice and honor.

"No, Ward; you've got to look at it just as it is.
Some of the fellows are down on you, but I don't
believe it'll last.  I don't honestly.  How can it with
such a fellow as I know Ward Hill to be?  It's
against all reason."

"And meanwhile I'm to sit down meekly and
thank these fellows who upset my room every day,
am I?"

"Not at all.  Not at all.  But Ripley isn't the one
to blame.  You've got to go to the fountain head
of all the trouble, as Dr. Gray so kindly informs us
every day in the chapel."

"Well, Tim Pickard's the one at the bottom of it
all," said Ward.

"So he is, my young friend, and he's the one to
fix.  Now I'm sure, with the help of Luscious here
and your humble servant, you can do it, and do it
this very night too."

"I don't see how," said Ward gloomily.

"No you don't; but if you'll listen with both ears
I'll explain the little project I have in mind, and
soon the weary valedic will put his enemies to flight,
or words to that effect."

And Jack at once began to explain his "project."





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`JACK HOBART'S PROJECT`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XI


.. class:: center medium bold

   JACK HOBART'S PROJECT

.. vspace:: 2

"There's no other way out of it," began Jack,
"except for you to take the matter into your own
hands, Ward.  You can't report it to the teachers,
and you can't be expected to let it go on without
doing something to protect yourself.  I think even
Mr. Crane wouldn't expect anything less than that
of you."

"But I don't see just what I'm to do," protested
Ward.  "Of course I know now that Tim Pickard
is the one who's stirring the trouble up, though I've
been satisfied all the time that he was the ringleader.
I don't see what I can do, unless I fight him."

"That's one way out of it," replied Jack, who
perhaps was not entirely averse to a settlement of
troubles by that primitive and brutal method.  "But
you don't need to do that just yet.  You can hold
that till later, though I'm not sure but you might
save yourself a deal of trouble by pitching into Tim
now.  It may have to come to that in the end.  Still,
I think it would be better to try my plan first."

Ward smiled as he thought of Jack in the role
of a peacemaker.  He appreciated fully Jack's spirit
and life, and he well knew how he enjoyed anything
that partook of the nature of tests of physical
strength in the school.  His last words, in which
with apparent reluctance he had counseled his friend
to postpone the method his boyish heart decidedly
preferred, had been spoken in a tone which made
Berry laugh aloud.

"Let's hear your plan, Jack," said Ward.

"It's nothing more than giving Tim a dose of his
own medicine."

"What do you mean? that I'm to stack his room?"

"That's exactly my meaning.  You grasp it
quickly, as Mr. Blake sometimes tells me--no, I
mean you, Ward--in his classes.  Yes, sir, that's the
thing for you to do, for it's the only thing a fellow
like Tim Pickard will appreciate.  'Hoist with his
own petard.'  Isn't that something you've heard
somewhere, sometime?"

"I think I have heard the expression before.  How
am I to do it, Jack?"

"Just as easily as falling off a log.  Tim rooms
down at Ma Perrins', as you know, and has a room
all to himself.  Now to-night after supper, my friend,
here, Luscious, will send for him to come up to our
room.  I think it very likely that Luscious will have
something to say about the nine, and Tim won't wait
long after hearing that Luscious Berry has something
to say about that, for if he's interested in
anything it's the work and the prospects of the
nine, you know."

"Yes, I know," replied Ward somewhat gloomily.
Tim Pickard's work and interest in the nine was a
subject on which he had very strong feelings at
that time.

"Well, Luscious will get him up here and he'll hold
him with his glittering eye, *à la* ancient mariner,
and he'll have so many bright speeches to make,
that Tim won't be able to get away from him.
Meanwhile you and I'll step down to Tim's room and
rearrange it for him, don't you see?  I'm going into this
with you, Ward, and see if I can't help you to put
a stop to these rascally proceedings."

"Yes, but----"

"There isn't a 'but' about it," interrupted Jack.
"I know what you were going to say, but it isn't
worth saying, Ward.  I know all the fine phrases
about 'stooping' and 'belittling yourself,' and all that
sort of stuff, but it's no time for indulging in such
nonsense.  Here you are bothered to death by Tim's
pranks.  You don't want to bother him, or have
anything to do with him, for the matter of that.
I understand all these things.  But you can't study;
you won't be the valedic; you can't report the
trouble to the faculty.  What can you do?  Just
nothing, but take the matter into your own hands
and do the thing that will put a stop in the shortest
time to all this nonsense.  Do you see the point?"

"Yes, I see----"

"Well, I'm glad for once in your life that you're
able to see the point."

"And I'm glad that for once in your life you can
make a point clear," said Ward with a laugh.

"Well done, my friend, I've hopes of you yet.
Now, I say it's all fair to feed Tim with his own food
and from his own spoon.  Why my father was telling
me the last time I was home about a trick a fellow
named Bram Martling played in the 'neutral ground,'
away back in the Revolution.  It seems that this
same Bram, which is short as I understand it for
Abraham, was a young officer in the Continental
army, and once when he came home he found the
Tories and British had been burning the houses
around there just for the fun of seeing 'em burn, I
fancy.  Well, Bram was pretty well stirred up when
he found out what was going on, so he just quietly
got a dozen young fellows together, and they met
over by Wolfert's Roost on the Hudson, and took
two whaleboats and pulled down to Morningside
Heights in the night.  Then they crept up and set
fire to Oliver De Lancy's great house, and got away
without one of them being caught.  They thought
'twas a great deed in those days, and made out that
the aforesaid Bram was quite a hero.  But he stopped
the Tories from burning houses after that, let me
tell you.  It makes all the difference in the world
whether you are the burner or the burnee."

"And you think----?"

"Be silent, my young friend.  This fable, which I
have just related for your special benefit, teaches
that in bad things as well as in good it is much more
pleasant to give than to receive.  Now, for your own
good, and for the good of Tim Pickard too, you are
simply compelled to let him know just how good it is
to have one's room stacked.  It must be done thoroughly
and at once.  Who was it that said, 'if 'twere
well done when it is done, then 'twere well if it
were done quickly'?"

"I guess it was Shakespeare," said Ward laughing;
"but you got the quotation twisted a bit.  The
way it reads is----"

"Oh, bother the way it reads, you know what I
mean.  Now, Luscious, you tell Ward if you don't
think what I've said is true."

"I think, Ward," said Berry, "that Jack's right.  I
don't see that you can do anything else.  You've got to
put a stop to the racket and Jack's plan is a good one."

For a moment Ward did not speak.  Somehow
he knew that Henry would not go into the scheme,
and he had a very decided opinion that Mr. Crane
would not approve.  Indeed, the teacher had at one
time said to him that it was a good deal better to
suffer wrong than to do it.  One wrong did not make
another wrong right.  Ward needed no one to tell
him that.

Yet there was the trouble all the time threatening
to become worse and it was certainly bad enough as
it was, and Henry and Little Pond were both made
to suffer too for his unpopularity.  Jack's plan might
work well.  Who could say?  The specious reasoning
of boys who would not intentionally do anything
very bad also appealed to him.

But more than all was Jack's evident friendship
and interest.  Ward was well aware of the risks the
impulsive lad would be incurring in entering into
the project with him.  Tim Pickard's enmity in the
Weston school was no light matter, and Jack, even
more than Ward, fed upon the good will of his
companions.  Jack might feel hurt if he should refuse
now to enter into the project, when his only motive
for proposing it had been the desire to aid him.
Ward felt that he could not refuse.

"Well, Jack," he said at last, "I'm obliged to you,
and I think your suggestion is worth trying."

"Good for you, old man," said Jack eagerly, rising
from his chair as he spoke.  "Now we'll do it this
very night.  You go right up to your room just as
soon as you've had your supper, and as soon as
Luscious and I have had ours I'll have him bring Tim
back with him to our room.  Then, when the coasts
are clear, I'll make a break for your room and we'll
soon fix Tim's room out in great shape.  There goes
the bell now.  Your afflictions will soon be over, the
wicked will cease to trouble you, and the weary
valedic will be at rest."

The boys at once left East Hall, Ward going to
the dining hall and Jack and Berry starting toward
Mrs. Perrins', where they both took their meals.

Somehow, Ward had no feeling of elation.  Again
and again he tried to persuade himself that Jack's
scheme was all right and that now he would put an
end to all his difficulties.  But there were misgivings
in his heart all the time.  Try as he would to
convince himself that he was taking a legitimate and
justifiable method of protecting himself, he could
not shake off the feeling that if he should be
discovered in the act, or if Mr. Crane should learn of it,
the affair would appear in a far different light.

However, he did not mention the plan or his own
misgivings to his room-mate, and it was with a
feeling of relief he heard Henry say to him, when
together they left the dining hall, "I'm going over to
Dr. Gray's a little while, Ward.  Will you come too?"

"No, I think not at present," said Ward.  "I guess
I'll go over to our room and keep out visitors.  I
don't want to have to tack down carpets to-night."

"I don't believe they'll trouble us now that we've
a new lock on the door," said Henry, laughing as he
spoke.  He did not urge Ward to accompany him
and soon departed.

Ward walked slowly on toward West Hall and
entered his room.  He had not been there long before
Jack came, and he at once followed him out of the
building.

"It's all right, Ward," said Jack eagerly.  "Luscious
has taken Tim up to our room and he'll keep
him there for an hour."

"But how shall we get into his room?" inquired Ward.

"Oh, that's all easy enough.  Ma doesn't keep the
front door locked, and if she happens to see me
come in, she'll only think I've come back for something
I left.  It'll be all right; you needn't have any
fears about that."

"Jack," said Ward slowly, "I've been thinking
this thing over and I don't want you to get your
fingers burned."

"That's good of you," and Jack laughed.  "Any
one to hear you talk would think I was the fellow in
trouble.  Don't bother your head about me.  I'll
be all right."

"That isn't just what I mean.  I think you'd
better stay down by the door or out in the hall and
let me go up to Tim's room alone.  There isn't any
use in your going, and besides that, I think you can
help more if you stay there and keep watch."

"Maybe you're right," replied Jack thoughtfully.
"I'll tell you what I'll do, Ward, I'll stay in the hall
and wait for you to go up and fix the room and then
I'll come in for the finishing touches.  I don't believe
you know how to do the thing up in the latest and
most approved manner."

The boys were now in front of Mrs. Perrins'
house, and glancing quickly up and down the street
to make sure that they were not observed, they
quickly crossed over the street and approached the
door.

Having found this unlocked, they entered and
stood for a moment in the hallway.  One of the
servants was in the dining room and glanced up at
them as they came in, but at once recognizing Jack,
she paid no further attention to them and went on
with her duties.

"It's all right," whispered Jack.  "Go right up to
Tim's room, it's the one right over the dining room,
you know.  I'll be up too in a few minutes and help
you to put the finishing touches on."

Ward turned and started at once up the stairway.
A heavy carpet was on the floor and deadened the
sound of his footsteps.  The lad was excited and his
heart was beating rapidly, but his presence was not
discovered and he soon made his way swiftly and
silently to the door of Tim's room.

Suppose the door should be locked!  Ward had
not thought of that, nor had Jack mentioned it.  He
almost wished that it was; but as he turned the knob,
the door opened and he at once entered, gently
closing the door behind him.

And now he was in Tim Pickard's room.  The
lamp upon the table was burning, and the room
seemed to be flooded with a soft and mellow light
which served to increase the luxurious appearance
of all about him.

What an elegantly furnished room it was!  In
spite of his excitement, Ward could not fail to notice
that.  Pictures were hanging on the walls, the floor
had a rich, soft carpet upon it, a little fire was
burning in the open grate, just sufficient to take
away the chill of the early autumn air.  The study
table was covered with books and papers, the chairs
were beautifully upholstered, and the bed, which
stood in one corner of the room, was not much like
the rude little affair in his own room, Ward thought.

Indeed, for a moment Ward stopped and looked
about him, deeply impressed by the contrast to his
room in West Hall.  And why should Tim Pickard,
with all his money and comforts, wish to torment
him by a series of petty and constant annoyances?

The thought made Ward's heart bitter and hard.
It was unjust, mean, contemptible.  Jack was right.
The only way in which he could defend himself was
to let Tim understand just what it meant for a fellow
to have his room all upset.

Hark!  What was that?  Ward stopped and listened
intently as he heard some one moving in the
hall.  Suppose he should be discovered in the room!
He felt like a thief.  What could he say or do to
explain his presence if he should be discovered?

The sound of the footsteps passed and Ward
breathed more freely.  What he was to do, he must
do quickly.  Where should he begin?  He started
toward the bed to tear that in pieces, but quickly
changing his purpose, he turned again to the study
table.  That was the proper spot at which to begin.

As he approached, the light of the lamp fell full
upon the photograph of a woman's face looking up
at him from a beautiful frame on the table.  It
almost seemed to him as if the eyes could see him
and were looking at him with a reproving, reproachful
glance.  That must be Tim's mother, he thought.
He knew that she was dead, for Tim had told him
many a time of the fact that his father--"the
governor," as Tim called him--was the only one he had
to look after him or to whom he had to report.

Perhaps if his mother were alive, Tim would be a
different fellow.  It seemed to Ward, as he stood
gazing at the picture, as if the woman were pleading
with him.  For a moment he thought of another
woman in the far-away village of Rockford.  His
mother was living, and he had no such excuse as
Tim had for failing to do what he knew was right.
And how grieved she would be if she knew he had
been stealing like a thief into another fellow's room.
Ward almost started, for it seemed as if he could
hear the sound of her voice.  And there was the
face of Tim's dead mother still looking up at him.

"I can't do it!  I can't do it!  I'd be no better
than Tim Pickard if I did.  I'd be doing the very
same thing which made me so mad when he did it,"
groaned Ward.

The troubled boy quickly turned to leave the room
Jack might think what he chose; he simply could
not bring himself to do what he had planned.

As he approached the door, his heart seemed
almost to cease to beat.  Some one was coming.  He
could hear the footsteps as they came nearer the
door.  The frightened boy looked quickly about him
for a place of concealment, but none could be found.
In a moment the door was opened and Tim himself
was standing before him with a look of mingled
anger and astonishment plainly expressed upon his
face.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`MR. CRANE'S WORDS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XII


.. class:: center medium bold

   MR. CRANE'S WORDS

.. vspace:: 2

"What are you doing here?" said Tim angrily,
as soon as he recovered from his surprise.

"I came over to stack your room."

"You did?  You did?" said Tim, as if he could
hardly believe what he had heard.

His astonishment arose not from the fact that
Ward should have come for the purpose which he so
calmly expressed, but from the fact that he should
have stated it so boldly.  The one part Tim could
readily understand, but the other was something he
could not comprehend.  To him there was but one
explanation, and that was that Ward was somehow
openly defying him, and Tim's anger was
correspondingly increased.

With all his faults Tim Pickard was no coward,
as the word is ordinarily used.  That is, he had no
fears of a physical contest, and as he stood in the
doorway before him Ward readily perceived what a
fine specimen of young manhood in its bodily form
Tim was.  Tall, with broad shoulders and with the
fire and force of vigorous health manifest in every
phase of his bearing, he would not be an antagonist
whom most boys would care to meet.

Ward himself was no weakling.  Though he was not
so large as Tim, his compact and well-knit frame
betokened physical powers of no mean order.  And his
quiet bearing served to increase the impression of his
fearlessness too, and for a moment the two seniors
stood quietly facing each other, each being conscious
of the fact that a contest between them would be no
light affair.

"Well, why don't you stack it then?" said Tim at
last with a sneer.  "Here's the room and you've got
my full consent to go ahead--if you can."

"I'm not going to stack it," said Ward quietly.

"Oh, you're not?  Well, that's kind of you, I must
say," laughed Tim.  "Well, if you're not going to
stack it, will you leave or shall I put you out?  I
don't want any sneaking hypocrite prowling around
here."

"I shall leave, but you won't put me out," replied
Ward, his face flushing as he spoke.

"Well, leave then, will you?  You can't do it too
soon to suit me."

Ward did not stir.

Tim's face flushed with anger and he advanced a
step nearer the table, and Ward braced himself for
the conflict which now appeared to be inevitable.

Before anything could be done, however, the door
was suddenly pushed open and Jack burst into the
room.  A hasty glance at the two boys revealed at
once to him the condition of affairs, and taking a
position between the two, he said:

"Here now, quit this, will you?"

"You don't suppose I'm going to sit down quietly
and let a fellow go to work stacking my room, do
you?" said Tim.  "This sneak says that was just
what he came for."

"No, I don't believe you'd do any such thing,"
replied Jack; "neither do I think you would think
Ward Hill would be likely to do any such thing,
either.  If he came over here to stack your room,
it's no more than you deserve, and he'd be only
paying off old scores."

"I never stacked his room," replied Tim evasively.

"No, you never had the nerve to do that openly,
but you can set such fellows as Ripley and Choate and
a lot of others up to it.  Oh, you needn't beg off, Tim
Pickard.  I know you through and through, and so
does Ward Hill too; and if he came over here to set
your room up, he knows, and I know, and you know,
and I know you know that we know, you're only
being paid off in your own coin."

Tim was silent, and Jack quickly perceiving his
advantage, went on.  "Now, look here, you fellows.
You can't get into any scrap here, not so long as I'm
in the room.  The first thing you know Ma Perrins
would be at the door, and you know she would report
the thing at once to Doctor Gray.  Then what would
happen?  You, Tim, aren't in very good shape for
receiving an invitation to come up and confer with him
about 'the best interests of the school,' as he puts it.
You know what would follow mighty sudden.  And
Ward here isn't in just the best position in the world
for a faculty meeting, though I think he'd be in a
good deal better one than you, Tim, for he's only
trying to protect himself.  Even a worm will turn, and
I don't believe Doctor Gray would blame a fellow too
much for taking the law into his own hands and
trying to put a stop to having his room stacked every
day of his life."

"But I haven't stacked his room, I'm telling you,"
interrupted Tim.

"Oh, give that ancient and antiquated aphorism a
period of relaxation, will you, Tim?  That doesn't
work here, let me tell you.  I know what I'm talking
about."

"But I don't see what this sneak thinks he's going
to gain by stacking my room," persisted Tim.  "I
shouldn't have to set it up again myself.  I'm no
West Hall pauper.  I don't have to take care of my
own room.  Thank fortune, I've got some one to do
my dirty work for me."

"Yes, that's what you're always doing, Tim Pickard,"
retorted Jack angrily, as he saw Ward flush at
the brutal words; "you're always getting some one
to do that for you.  But let me tell you one thing,
this stacking of Ward's room has got to be stopped."

"Who's going to stop it, I'd like to know?" replied
Tim boldly.

"Oh, there's more than one way of doing that,"
replied Jack quietly.  "Now, if you don't want to be
sent home again for good and all, you'll see to it that
Ward Hill's room isn't troubled again.  That's all
I've got to say about it."

"What'll you do?  Go and report it to Doctor Gray?"

"I'm not telling what'll be done, but I am telling
you that it isn't going to happen again.  I know you
and you know me, and you know too that I don't
talk for the fun of hearing my own voice.  Come on,
Ward," he added, "you'll not be bothered any more
after this.  Good-bye, Tim," he called out as he and
Ward together left the room.

But Tim made no response.

Neither of the boys spoke until they were in front
of East Hall, then as Ward turned to go to his own
room, Jack said, "What was the trouble?  You had
time enough to rip the carpet apart, to say nothing of
upsetting everything in the room."

"I can't explain it, Jack; I don't know just why I
didn't, but I couldn't do it, and that's all there was
about it.  When I got into the room, it all came over
me what a mean, contemptible thing it was, and how
I felt toward Tim for his work in West Hall; and on
his table was a picture of his dead mother appearing
to look reproachfully at me.  It seemed to me that I
couldn't do it, and if I did I'd be doing the very thing
that set me so against him.  And so I couldn't, and
that's all there is about it."

"You're a queer chap," said Jack thoughtfully.
"I thought I knew you pretty well, but I've got to
give you up, I'm afraid.  Ma Perrins came out into
the hall while I was on guard there, and as I saw she
looked a little surprised to see me, I went into the
parlor with her just to quiet her fears and give you a
chance to put in your fine work.  I was horrified
when I saw Tim rush into the house like a young
whirlwind, and before I could call to him he was up
the stairs as if he'd been shot out of a gun.  You'd
better believe I cut short my interview with Ma and
made a break for Tim's room.  I was half afraid I'd
find only a few small pieces of you and Tim left, and
that I'd have to beg the loan of one of Ma's platters
to bring you home on.  But I can't make you out,
Ward.  I hardly know now why you didn't fix Tim's
room so that it would have been a living monument
of your ability in that line.  That's what I'd have
done."

As Ward made no reply, Jack added: "Well,
never mind, old fellow!  Perhaps it's just as well.
Tim won't bother you again, that is, I mean you
won't have your room stacked again.  You can rest
easy about that."

"Thank you, Jack.  You've been a good friend to
me, and I need friends too."

"Don't mention it," replied Jack impulsively, as he
reached forth his hand and shook Ward's warmly.
"Good-night."

"Good-night, Jack."

When Ward, returned to his room, Henry was
there and working over his lessons.  At first he was
tempted to tell his room-mate all about his
experience, but fearing that Henry like Jack might
misunderstand him he remained silent, and soon took his
seat at his own table and began to work on his
lessons.

It was some time, however, before he could bring
his mind to bear upon his task.  The scene in Tim
Pickard's room kept rising before him.  His anger
and the part Jack had taken were still vivid.  What
a good fellow Jack was, Ward thought, and he
appreciated his aid the more when he realized what it
might mean for the impulsive lad to bring upon
himself the anger of the "Tangs."  And yet how fearless
he had been, and in what a manly way he had taken
his stand.  Even then Ward could almost hear his
words as he told Tim that the trouble in West Hall
must cease.  Would Tim heed?  Somehow Ward
felt that he would, at least in so far as the stacking
of his room was concerned; but in other ways
doubtless he would be made aware that Tim had not
forgotten him.  And Tim was one who never forgot.

At last he succeeded in banishing from his mind
for the time, the recollection of the scene in
Mrs. Perrins' house, and gave himself wholly to his work.
On the following night Ward started to go to
Mr. Crane's room.  Somehow he dreaded the interview,
and yet go he must.  Mr. Crane he knew would
expect him to come, and that scene in Ripley's room
must be explained to his satisfaction.

Ward had thought over the matter many times,
but as yet had arrived at no satisfactory course for
him to follow.  One thing was certain, and that was
that he could not tell Mr. Crane about Tim Pickard.
That was against the school's code of honor, and
Ward's own feelings forbade it as well.

He was still undecided what to do when he rapped
on Mr. Crane's door and was at once admitted by the
teacher himself.

Apparently Mr. Crane had not changed, nor did
he seem in any way suspicious of the boy before him.
And yet that very quietness was most impressive to
Ward, and had ever been the one element in the
teacher's character and bearing which had most
influenced him.

After a few general words Ward felt that he
could bear it no longer, and breaking in somewhat
abruptly, he said:

"Mr. Crane I want to put a case before you."

"Yes?" said Mr. Crane, lifting his eyes inquiringly,
but not otherwise changing his manner.

"I want to know just what you would do.  You
seem to understand boys so well."

"I don't just know what I should do, if I didn't
understand a little more clearly than I do now what
was expected of me," answered Mr. Crane, smiling
slightly as he spoke.

"Well, it's just this way.  Suppose a fellow--I
mean a boy--had come up to the Weston school, and
was here a year.  Suppose too, that he hadn't done
very well.  He'd neglected his work and was a great
disappointment to his father and mother, and to his
teachers, to say nothing of himself.  Then suppose
he'd fallen in with a set of the fellows--I mean
boys--who were up to all sorts of mischief and he'd gone
in with them, though all the time he didn't feel right
about it.  Then suppose he'd failed in his examinations
at the end of the year, but that he tried to make
them up during the summer.  We'll say he came back
to school and was able to go on with his class.  When
he came back he tried to break off with his old
associates, but he didn't find it a very easy thing to do.
They wouldn't believe in him, and when at last they
found he really was trying to do differently, then
they tried to make his life a burden to him."

Ward stopped a moment as if he expected some
kind of a reply, but as Mr. Crane was silent he
resumed his story.

"Well, if it didn't sound too much like telling tales,
we'll suppose these fellows--I mean students--tried
to do all they could to make life a burden for the boy.
They put him off from the nine, they prejudiced the
minds of the new boys against him, and some of the
old ones too.  But that wasn't all.  They played all
kinds of tricks on him, and worst of all they began to
stack his room.  I don't know that you understand
what that means?" added Ward quickly.

"I think I understand," said Mr. Crane quietly.

"Well, this boy--I mean fellow--no, I don't, I
mean boy--would find his room all upset every day.
His carpet would be torn up, he'd find that water had
been poured on his bed, and sometimes the oil from
his lamp would be added too.  The fellow--boy I
mean--really wanted to study, but he had to take lots
of his time from his lessons to set his room to rights.
Finally he went at it and found out who was doing
the mischief.  He discovered that some one had a
key to his room, but he found out too, that the
fellow--I mean boy--who had the key wasn't the one
who was stacking his room.  He kept out of it
himself, but set other fellows--I mean boys--up to it.
And the worst of it all was that they were picking on
Little P--I mean on a little fellow who rather looked
up to this boy for help.

"Well, finally the boy fixed a trap and caught the
one who was trying to get into his room that day.
He went over to his room and started to make him
give up the key--but--but--he was interrupted, and
somehow he didn't do it.  Then he went down to the
fellow's room--the one at the bottom of it all--and
was going to stack his room well, so as to let him
know how it felt.  But when he got there he somehow
couldn't bring himself to do it, and while he was
hesitating, the fellow in whose room he was came
back and there was a great row.

"No, there was no fight," he hastily added, as he
saw the question in the teacher's eyes; "but the
fellow didn't know but the boy was trying to stack
his room.  Now, there's the story, Mr. Crane.  I
wish you'd tell me what you would do if you were
that boy."

For a few moments Mr. Crane was silent, but at
last he said: "Hill, I'll try to be entirely frank with
you.  In the first place, I think I should honor the
boy who had gained the victory over himself in that
fellow's room.  He couldn't afford to do the very
same thing he despised in the other fellow."

Ward's face flushed with pleasure, for he felt that
praise from Mr. Crane was praise indeed.

"I'm not done yet," resumed Mr. Crane quietly.
"Then, if I were that boy, I think I should begin to
question myself and see if there was any just cause
for the school being down upon me.  It may have
been that that boy was somewhat conceited, and a
little selfish.  He was all the time perhaps thinking
how the school ought to appreciate everything he
did, and he did not have quite the necessary courage
to face calmly the results of his own misdeeds."

"But, Mr. Crane," protested Ward, "the fellow
knew he'd done wrong.  He wasn't trying to crawl."

"Perhaps so, but it is also possible that he thought
he ought to be praised unduly for simply turning
about and doing his duty.  In the main, Hill, boys
are just; and while doubtless injustice creeps in at
times, it is still true that if a fellow has trouble,
he ought not only to think of that, but of what he
may be doing to bring it upon himself."

"Then you think the boy ought to keep still and
let his room be stacked every day, do you?"

"Not at all; I want him to cure that in the right
way, but I want him also to think not only of the
stacking, but of the reason for its being stacked."

"It was stacked because he broke with the fellows
he'd been going with," said Ward bitterly.

"In part, yes; but in part, no.  Think it over, Hill,
and come and see me again in a week."

"Good-night, Mr. Crane," said Ward somewhat
abruptly, as he left the room.

He felt hurt and humiliated.  Somehow he had
thought Mr. Crane would speak very differently.
Was that to be the reward for trying to do better?
It seemed to him that he had been abused and
misunderstood, and in no very amiable frame of mind
Ward walked back to West Hall.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A FAITHFUL FRIEND`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   A FAITHFUL FRIEND

.. vspace:: 2

For two days Ward Hill continued in no enviable
frame of mind.  He felt hurt and humiliated by
the words of Mr. Crane, and also felt that he had
been hard and somewhat unjust in his judgment.

It was true that he had not referred to the
disturbance in Ripley's room, but to Ward that seemed a
trifling matter now.  The struggle through which
he was passing was uppermost in his thoughts, and
before that, all else seemed insignificant and small.

And to Ward Hill it was a struggle of no small
character.  The stand which near the close of the
preceding year he had taken for Henry had brought
upon him the enmity of his former associates, and
they had succeeded not only in annoying him themselves,
but also in creating a prejudice against him
in the school.

Henry, it was true, remained his true friend, but
he was a boy who was never demonstrative, and
Ward somehow felt the need of continued praise.
In this particular he did not differ from other
sensitive and bright lads; but in his own home and in the
little village of Rockford, he had been so looked up
to by all his associates that he had come to regard
such feelings toward him as but his just and
natural right.

Jack Hobart's good will he highly prized and also
prized more than he himself was aware all the
good-natured references to the possibilities of his
becoming the valedictorian of the class; but Ward
Hill, like many another when he finds himself beset
with perplexities and difficulties, was more prone
to dwell upon his lacks than upon his possessions,
and consequently he was thinking much more of the
words of implied blame which Mr. Crane had
spoken, than he was of the encouragement and
appreciation he had received.

And it was just because Mr. Crane thoroughly
understood Ward that he had spoken as he did at
the time of Ward's indirect statement.  He had
understood clearly that in the case which Ward had
stated, he was speaking of himself.  The disguise
was very thin, and the teacher had listened attentively
and with a full sense of what it all meant to
the eager, impulsive boy.

But he had also seen, what Ward himself had
failed to see, that as yet he had not faced his
situation with the true spirit.  It was his vanity which
was suffering more than his sense of justice and
right.  Eager for the praise of the boys and his
teachers, he had not as yet come to perceive that
there was something deeper, stronger, better.  It
was with no lack of appreciation of the efforts Ward
certainly was making to do better work in his classes
and to cut himself loose from the more disorderly
elements of the Weston school, that Mr. Crane had
spoken, but because he clearly perceived that as yet
the troubled boy was governed only by his feelings,
and that deep down below all his desires to improve
there lay a motive which must be purified before
anything like a radical or permanent change in his
life could be produced.

He had not failed to notice the pain his words
produced, but as we are informed that "faithful are the
wounds of a friend," he had resolved for the sake of
the boy, whom he sincerely loved and whose brightness
he was in no wise backward in acknowledging,
that what he needed most was not praise and sympathy,
but frankness and a true picture of himself.

Not the least of Ward's troubles arose from the
fact that in his own heart there was a perception
of the fact that the basis of all his regard for
Mr. Crane was his confidence in the teacher's candor and
sincerity.  Ward felt that come what might
Mr. Crane never said pleasing things just for the
pleasure of saying them, or for the pleasure his praise
might impart.  In all this he was in marked contrast
to Mr. Blake whose words of praise were so
plentiful as to be cheap, and were bestowed so
indiscriminately that they were slightly valued.
Mr. Crane, on the contrary, was ever ready to speak a
word of encouragement to any boy whom he perceived
to be doing his best, but he never praised at
the expense of truth.  And perhaps it was because
of the dim consciousness that there was too much
truth in what he had heard, that Ward's bitterness
was somewhat increased.

He could not conceal from himself the fact that
in the preceding year, when he had been received
into the "Tangs" and made much of by a class of
boys whose ideals, home training, and lives had been
very different from his own, that he had been
somewhat elated by the attentions he had received and
that his manner and bearing toward the other boys
in the school had gradually undergone a marked
change.

He had become somewhat overbearing and condescending
in his dealings with them.  He had assumed
airs that did not become him and rejected many of
the overtures of friendship that had been offered
him.  And as a consequence he had not gained them,
and now he had lost the others.  Did Mr. Crane know
anything of that?  Ward almost felt that he must,
but the knowledge did not tend to increase his peace
of mind at the time.  In fact, Ward Hill wanted
what he did not need, and needed what he did not
want.

For two days, as we have said, the struggle went
on in Ward's soul.  At times he would be bitter and
hard, feeling that it made no difference what he
attempted to do, the hand of nearly every one was
certain to be against him.  Then again, his better
self would assert itself and he would be able to see
things in their true light.

To Henry he did not speak of his troubles.  He
worked faithfully and hard over his lessons, and
knew that he was doing well in his classes; but
somehow the knowledge did not bring him the
satisfaction he had expected.  He could not forget or
ignore Mr. Crane's words, and the recollection of
them was ever a disturbing element in his mind.

When the two days had passed, he sought out Jack,
having resolved to seek his opinion, half hoping
that his friend, who ever had good words for all,
would have something to say to him which would
be a comfort to his troubled soul.

It was in his room that he found his friend and
after stating, as clearly and fully as he could recall,
the conversation with Mr. Crane, he said abruptly:
"Now, Jack, I want you to tell me just what you
think.  Am I a prig, like Big Smith?  Do you think
Mr. Crane was right?  Am I to blame for what's
coming to me?"

"Ward, I don't know," said Jack soberly after a
brief silence.

Ward felt hurt and somewhat humiliated by his
friend's reply.  He was so anxious to be absolved
from all blame that he had eagerly looked forward
to Jack as a consoler.  And now Jack's manner, far
more than his words, seemed to imply that he too
thought something was wrong with himself.

"It seems to me," said Ward, unable entirely to
conceal his disappointment, "that a fellow who
stands up for Henry as I did when the 'Tangs' got
after him, isn't altogether bad.  And why is Tim
Pickard so down on me?  If I'd gone into his scrapes,
or if even now I'd go in again, he'd be all right,
and you know it.  I'd have my place on the nine and
the fellows in the school wouldn't all be down on me
as they now are."

"I don't know what to say to you," said Jack
slowly.  "You know how I feel, old fellow, and there
isn't a chap in the school who would be so glad
to have you take the place I know belongs to you as
I would.  I know Tim's to blame, but then you know
how it was with Big Pond.  He didn't go in with
Tim and the 'Tangs,' and yet there hasn't been a
fellow in school for years whom every one liked as
they did Pond.  Now I know him and I know you,
and for the life of me I can't see just where the
fault lies."

"Only you know they liked Pond and don't like me."

"It isn't as strong as that.  It isn't that the
fellows dislike you, Ward.  That isn't it."

"It's that they don't like me," said Ward bitterly,
determined to say the words which he perceived
that Jack would not.

"I think it'll come out all right, Ward, if you'll
have patience and wait.  It isn't very pleasant, I
know," he hastily added as he saw an expression
of pain and mortification sweep over Ward's face,
"but it'll all come right, I'm sure."

"And meanwhile I'm to sit still and bear it all
like a martyr on a pole."

"No, not that--not that--but----"

"But what?"

"But I wish you'd take a little more pains to make
the fellows like you."

"Don't you remember, though, what the doctor
said about the fellows that tried to do the popular
act, how they never succeeded and the school was
always down on them?"

"Yes, I remember, and it's true too, but that
doesn't mean that a fellow's not to take a little
trouble to be agreeable--I mean to go out of his way.
Forgive me, Ward.  It hurts me worse than it does
you, but you asked me the honest question and I'm
trying hard, honestly I am, to see a way out of it.
Now there's Big Smith.  He's never in a scrape.
He doesn't know what the word mischief means, but
then he isn't over popular, you know."

"Yes, I know; but I hope I'm not like Big Smith.
I suppose I'll have to take it out in being respected,
even if I'm not liked."

"That's where you're wrong, Ward.  I tell you a
fellow's got to be respected or he's not liked.  He's
got to have something the other fellows don't have
or they don't look up to him and don't care much for
him, either.  No, sir!  I don't believe a fellow can
be respected and not be liked.  Speaking of that,
and the doctor's words, don't you remember what he
said about 'speaking the truth in love'?  that it wasn't
enough for a fellow to be true, and speak the truth
too, for that matter, but that the way in which he
did it counted for as much or more than what he
said?  I usually take a nap when the doctor gets to
preaching, but I was thinking that morning and so
kept awake."

"Thinking of me, maybe?" said Ward, looking
keenly at Jack as he spoke.

"Why, yes, to tell the truth I was thinking of you,
Ward; but I fancy I'd been in a good deal better
business to have been thinking of myself."

"Jack, what would you advise me to do?"

"I told you, Ward, I don't know what to tell you.
Still, if you want me to, I'll tell you one or two
things I've thought of."

"Go ahead," said Ward, striving to appear calm,
though there was a sinking of the heart as he spoke.

"Well, to begin with, old fellow, there isn't a boy
in the class who can learn his lessons with as little
work as you can.  Why, you can see right through a
thing that takes my old head an hour to find out.
But, Ward," he added hesitatingly, "I've sometimes
thought you were a little quick to poke fun at the
fellows who are not so quick-witted as you are.
And then you aren't over ready to give a fellow a
lift when he's in trouble.  Now, for example, there's
Big Smith.  I saw him come up to you before class
yesterday and say, 'Ward, how do you translate this
passage?'  And maybe you remember what you said
to him."

"No, I don't," replied Ward.  "He's such a shirk
I've no patience with him.  What did I say, Jack?"

"Why you turned him off with a curt, 'How do I
translate that place?  Why, I translate it right,' and
then you turned on your heel and walked off."

"But I don't want to drag Big Smith through by
letting him hang on to my coat tails.  I work to
get what I have, and why shouldn't the other fellows
work too, I'd like to know?  Every tub ought to
stand on its own bottom."

"That's all true enough, but it wouldn't cost you
anything to give another fellow a lift; you can do
it too, I know, for you've lifted me right out of the
mire every time I asked you."

"Yes, but I like you, Jack."

"But I thought it was of the other fellows and the
school you were talking just now."

"So I was, Jack," replied Ward slowly.  Perhaps
he was beginning to see what his friend had in mind.
"But go on, give me another.  I'm good for it."

"Well," said Jack hesitatingly, "I've thought about
the nine, Ward.  Henry and I were perfectly willing
to keep off till they'd take you on, but you wouldn't
have that."

"No, sir!  I'd never go on the nine if I had to get
on in that way."

"That's all right and I don't know that I blame
you, though I think by a little squeezing Tim would
have come around all right.  But I did think you
might have gone on the scrub."

"Go on the scrub!" said Ward quickly.  "What?
Go on the scrub when I'd been put off from the
nine?  Not much!  Not as long as the court knows
itself."  And Ward rose from his seat and in his
anger began to pace back and forth in the room.

"You don't see what I'm driving at.  Now it looks
to me like this.  If you'd taken the thing
good-naturedly and made out that you weren't hit so hard,
I think the most of the fellows in the school would
have taken your part in no time.  As it is, you just
keep away from them, and if Tim tells them that
you've gone back on everything, why they don't
know but it's true, you see.  Now if you'd swallowed
your pride and gone in with the fellows, whether
you were on the nine or not, why it wouldn't have
been any time before every one of them would be
willing to swear that you were one of the best
fellows in the school, as well as one of the best
players, and Tim would be forced to give you back
your place.  Ripley has it now, but he doesn't size
up to your knees, when it comes to playing ball."

"Yes, but think what Tim Pickard would say if
he should see me on the scrub nine.  He'd think he'd
got me just where he wanted me, and that I was all
cut up about being put off the nine, and was trying
to force my way back again."

"Tim might be a little disagreeable at first; but
you know if you braced up and either laughed at
him or paid no attention to what he said, how soon
he'd cool off.  Now look here, Ward, how many times
has your room been stacked since we had our little
interview with Timothy down at Ma Perrins'?"

"Not once."

"Exactly.  And if you meet Tim and the boys in
the same way down on the ball ground you'd see how
soon he'd crawl there.  Oh, I know Tim Pickard all
the way up and all the way down, from the top of
his head to the sole of his foot."

"But, I don't want to get on the nine in any such
way," protested Ward.

"Never mind the nine, just come down and go in
with the fellows, that's all I'm telling you.  You
can't run off up to the glen or away off to the Hopper,
and think all the school is going to come trailing
after you.  If you're going to catch fish, you've got
to go where the fish are, haven't you?  And if you
think the fellows are all down on you, you can't fix
things straight by going off and talking with the
whispering breezes and echoing hills, and all that
sort of stuff."

Ward soon departed and went to his own room.
His heart was smarting from the effect of Jack's
words, but somehow he could not feel angry with
him.  Who could?  The light-hearted, generous lad
made friends on every side, for no one could long
withstand his sunny ways.

That night Ward sat for a long time at his study
table, with his head resting upon his hands and his
books unopened before him.  He was thinking of
Mr. Crane's words and what Jack had said.

At last he arrived at a quick decision, and with
the decision once made he opened his books and
resolutely began the preparation of his lessons
for the following day.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`WARD HUMBLES HIMSELF`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIV


.. class:: center medium bold

   WARD HUMBLES HIMSELF

.. vspace:: 2

For a long time after he had retired that night
Ward rolled and tossed upon his bed, and it seemed
to the troubled boy as if sleep would never come.
The words of Jack kept sounding in his ears, and
do what he would he could not forget them.

His heart was heavy too, with the consciousness
that the words were true and that he knew he was in
a measure at fault.  Perhaps that after all was the
source of his deepest suffering, for Ward Hill was
one of the few boys who could not entirely deceive
himself.

Again and again he tried to persuade himself that
his present suffering all came because he had broken
with his former associates in the school.  That a
measure of truth lay in that fact he could readily
persuade himself to believe, but not all of it could be
traced to that source.  Jack's references to his
unwillingness to aid the other boys and his tendency to
have but slight sympathy for those who did not learn
as easily as he, had touched him in a tender spot and
his own conscience accused him.

Then too, he knew that he had withdrawn from the
fellowship of many in the school, and had been
accustomed to pride himself somewhat upon that very
fact.  He was not dependent upon any one.  If the
fellows did not care for him, why, he did not intend
to hang his harp on the willows and sit down and
mourn over his slights.  He would show every one
in the school that he could live without his company
if needs be.  With such statements he had endeavored
to bolster up his courage and by an air of
bravado, if not of true independence, he would show
his own superiority.  No one should ever hear him
"whine."

Yet, despite his efforts, his heart had been heavy
all the time.  He yearned for the love and good will
of his companions.  No one in the school more
desired to be popular than he.  And few too would
suffer from the lack of popularity as he did.

And his heart had been heavy when he at last had
closed his books when the bell was rung that night
and he had put out his light and crept into his bed.
He was tormented by a dull, heavy feeling of misery.
He felt lonely and forlorn.  Both Mr. Crane and
Jack had virtually admitted that he was not very
well liked by the school, and both also evidently
thought he was not entirely blameless in the matter.

As the truth gradually came to be seen by him, he
was sincere enough to acknowledge it to be true and
had sufficient strength to rouse himself to face its
difficulties.  He would follow Jack's suggestions.

On the following morning he said to Jack as they
left the chapel together: "I'm going to follow your
advice, and am coming down to play on the scrub
against the nine this afternoon.  The only thing I'm
afraid of is that Tim Pickard will think I'm crawling.
You know I'm not trying to get back my place
on the team."

"That's all right, Ward," replied Jack
enthusiastically.  "Never you mind Tim, you just go ahead.
It'll be all right and I'll see that you have a place
on the scrub."

As a consequence of Jack's efforts, when in the
afternoon Ward went down to the ball ground, Ford,
who was acting as the captain of the scrub nine,
which was formed to give the regular nine practice
every day, said to him, "Ward, will you take a hand
with us this afternoon?"

"Yes," replied Ward quietly.

"All right; play 'short' then, will you?"

As Ward threw aside his coat and walked out upon
the field to take the position assigned him, he was
conscious that many of the boys who had assembled
to watch the nine at its practice were talking of him.
His face burned, but he tried hard not to appear
aware of the curiosity which his appearance on the
field had aroused.  The sneer on Tim Pickard's face
was the hardest for him to bear; and when he
overheard the words which Tim uttered, evidently
intended for Ward's special benefit, about "sneaks"
and "trying to curry favor and crawl back on the
team," he was sorely tempted to leave the field
instantly.

But catching a meaning look just then from Jack,
he resolutely ignored all that he had heard and seen,
and well aware that Tim would be highly delighted
even then to have him abandon the game, he tried
hard to give his entire attention to the work before
him.

It was the first game in which Ward had played
since he had come back to Weston and he felt sadly
his lack of practice.  But endeavoring to make up
by his efforts what he lacked in practice, he
succeeded beyond his hopes in acquitting himself
creditably.  He handled the ball quickly and threw with
all his old-time swiftness.

Indeed, he thought more than once of that long
throw of his in the game with the Burrs in the
preceding year, which had saved the game and won for
him the wild applause of his fellows.  The recollection
served to intensify the difficulties of his present
position.  How sadly had it all been changed since
the preceding year!  He was, however, too busy in
the game to dwell long upon the misery which the
thought produced.

When it came to be his turn to bat and he stood
facing Tim, who was the pitcher of the Weston nine,
he could easily perceive the expression of hatred
upon his face.  Tim exerted himself to the utmost
and sent in the ball with all the speed and curves he
could summon.  Perhaps his manifest desire to place
Ward at a disadvantage served to rouse the latter all
the more.  At any rate he stood calmly facing Tim,
apparently unmoved by all his efforts to annoy him.

It became evident to others as well as to Ward
that Tim in his anger was trying to hit him with the
ball.  He sent in two or three at his swiftest speed
and Ward had all he could do to dodge them successfully.

"Oh, hold on, Tim!" called Jack in a low voice
from his position at short stop.  "What are you
trying to do?  You want to remember that we're
not alone here."

Somehow Jack always seemed to have a strange
influence over the captain of the nine, an influence
which no other exerted, or even tried to use.  And
the effect of the words became at once apparent as
Tim's speed slackened and the next ball came in
directly over the plate.

Just then Ward obtained a glimpse of Mr. Crane,
who had come upon the grounds and taken his position
in the front line of the spectators, where he
stood watching the game.  Perhaps the sight of the
teacher, or Jack's words, or the change which came
over Tim, served to arouse Ward still more.  He
never knew just what the cause was; but as he saw
the ball coming swiftly toward him, he caught it
squarely on the end of his bat and sent it far out
over the heads of the waiting fielders.

As Ward swiftly cleared the bases, sending in two
men before him, he was dimly conscious that a faint
cheer had arisen from the spectators.  He gave no
heed to that, however, nor yet to the words with
which Jack hailed him as he ran swiftly past him.
Somehow the heavy hit which he had made served
in a measure to relieve his feelings, and as he halted
upon the third base he wiped his dripping face with
his handkerchief and for the first time turned and
looked about him.

Jack's face was beaming and Ward could easily
see he had risen in the estimation of the spectators.
The sight produced a thrill of pleasure in his heart,
but he was soon recalled to the necessities of the
game and gave himself fully to that.  When at last
he succeeded in stealing home, the applause again
broke out, but Ward held himself aloof from the
boys, well satisfied with what he had done.

Twice more during the game Ward succeeded in
hitting squarely the swiftly thrown balls of the
pitcher, and when at last the game was ended, the
scrub nine for the first time that season had
succeeded in making a creditable showing against the
school nine, and Ward knew the success in large
measure had been due to his efforts.

"Tell you what, Tim," said Jack, as the members
of the nine picked up their bats and started for their
rooms, "we'll have to put up the scrub against the
Burrs, I'm thinking.  If we don't look out they'll be
playing all around us."

Tim made no reply, but a savage scowl crept over
his face.  He prided himself upon his prowess as a
pitcher, and indeed it was freely acknowledged that
there was no one in the school in any way to be
compared with him.  Indeed, it was this fact that chiefly
enabled Tim to retain his position as the captain of
the nine, for the boys well knew that without him
they would be so sadly crippled as to be unable to
make a good showing against any team.

The fact that Ward Hill, whom he disliked so
intensely, had succeeded in successfully batting him
that day was gall to the angry boy.  He made no
reply to Jack's words, and sullenly departed from the
field.

Ward did not wait for any of his friends to
accompany him as he too started from the ball ground.
Jack's beaming face pleased him greatly, and the
words that he overheard some of the boys say about
it's being "a shame that Hill was not on the nine,"
seemed also to comfort him; but without waiting to
speak to any one he drew on his coat and started to go.

As he came to the border of the grounds he was
surprised as Mr. Crane joined him and said:
"You've done well to-day, Hill, and I congratulate
you."

"Thank you," said Ward simply, though his face
flushed with pleasure at the words.

"You haven't been over to see me yet," continued
Mr. Crane.  "Can't you come up to my room for a
few minutes now?"

"I'm hardly fit for that," said Ward, glancing
ruefully at his soiled hands.  He knew also that his hair
was in disorder and that his face bore many tokens
of his recent exertions.

"I understand all that," said Mr. Crane quietly.
"If you can spare a few minutes now I should be
very glad to have you come.  You bear only the
honorable signs of battle, and I shall forget them.  I
want only a few minutes with you."

"I'll come," said Ward simply, as he turned and
walked with the teacher, and was soon seated in his
room.

"Now, Hill," said Mr. Crane as soon as he too
had taken his seat, "I don't want you to think that
I'm asking more than I ought, and if you feel that I
am you are at liberty not to answer me.  But I
should be glad to have you tell me why you went
down to the ball ground this afternoon and played
on the scrub nine.  You haven't done that before,
have you?"

"No," said Ward quietly.

He was silent a moment, and then, as he looked up,
he felt rather than saw that Mr. Crane was regarding
him intently.  His interest was so apparent that
almost before he realized what he was doing Ward
had related all his recent troubles to him.  He did
not mention any names, but he told him of his own
feelings when he had listened to his words of the
previous interview; also of what "a friend"--for so
he referred to Jack--had said to him in the same
line.  He held nothing back.  His own bitterness,
his feeling that he had been misunderstood, his
discouragement and all came out.

"Hill," said Mr. Crane when Ward at last ended,
"I'm greatly pleased with you.  You haven't done
anything since you came to Weston that has given
me such genuine pleasure as that which you have
done to-day."

"Why, Mr. Crane," said Ward quickly, his face
flushing as he spoke and a very suspicious moisture
appearing in his eyes, "I didn't know you cared so
much about the game.  I thought you would be more
pleased over my work in the classes."

"I am pleased with both, Hill.  I am delighted at
the improvement in your class work, and I am no
less pleased over what I have seen to-day."

As Ward appeared somewhat mystified and looked
questioningly at him, Mr. Crane continued, "The
class work is important.  You know I would be the
last to belittle that.  But there are many other
things to be learned in a school like this.  I have
been here many years now, and I have had an
opportunity to judge of the relative success of the boys
as they have gone up to college and out into life, and
I must say that many of my old standards of judgment
have been revised."

"And you don't think that standing high in the
class is first then?" said Ward eagerly.

"Yes, with you I do, Hill; but first, not all.  I want
to see every boy do his best, his particular rank in
class then becomes a secondary matter.  There are
some boys who are older when they enter, or much
more mature when they are of the same age as their
fellows, and of course they do the work more easily
and gain a higher standing without much effort.
But some students show elements of growth and
promise, and although they may not stand so high as
some of the others, I can see by the very impetus they
receive from working faithfully that they are bound
to outstrip the others in the race of life.  Then too,
school work only tests a man on one side of his
mental make-up.  His memory may be strong and he
may also be able to perceive and receive, but his
ability to create or to carry out plans is not tested in the
least, or to a very slight degree.  So when he gets
out into the world and finds that the world is much
more prone to ask of him what he can furnish or
add to the stock it already has, or what he can do in
carrying out his plans, than it is to ask him about
his ability to soak in as a sponge does, he doesn't
know just what to make of it.  Creative ability and
executive ability are but slightly tested in school life,
and these are the qualities of success far more than
mere receptive power.  I don't know that I make
myself clear, using these long words," added
Mr. Crane smilingly.

"I think I understand you," said Ward slowly;
"but I'd never thought of it in that way before.  I
always thought if a fellow did well in school he'd be
likely to outside."

"And so he will," said Mr. Crane quickly.  "You
see I didn't make myself clear after all.  I think
success in the main is in him, not in his surroundings,
and if he has ability and exerts it in school it
will tell there as well as in any other place.  If a boy
has ability and applies himself he will succeed in
school if success is in him.  But on the other hand,
because a boy has the special kind of ability to
succeed in school work it does not always follow that the
same qualities will make his life-work a success.
And that is the very reason why I am always glad to
see a boy tested and meet the test on every side of
his life, even while he is in school."

"And you think I have been tested?"

"Yes; and I think you are meeting the tests.
School life and school work are two different things.
I want not less of one but more of the other.  The
discipline of hard study is what you need, Hill; and
you need also the discipline which only the boys can
give you.  No teacher can give it, however much he
may try.  It's life, not books.  Now no discipline for
the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous.
Nevertheless, afterward----"

"Yes, yes, I see," said Ward quickly.  "And you
think I am learning?  Tell me honestly just what
you think, Mr. Crane."

"I think you are learning and are doing well in the
school life as well as in the school work," replied
Mr. Crane cordially, as he rose from his chair, a signal
which Ward at once understood.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`OUTSIDE LESSONS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XV


.. class:: center medium bold

   OUTSIDE LESSONS

.. vspace:: 2

"Now, Hill," said Mr. Crane, as Ward stopped
for a moment in the doorway, "I trust I have not
said too much to you."

The teacher's kindly tones and grave manner
impressed Ward even more than what he had been
saying, and with a face that beamed in spite of the
marks which the dust of the ball-ground had left,
the boy, far more light-hearted than he had been
for many weeks now, said: "You have done me lots
of good, Mr. Crane."

"Let us hope that it will prove to be so.  I rejoice
with you that the muskets of Lexington have been
heard, now let us see to it that the guns of Yorktown
shall also be heard.  Or to put it in another way,
the victory of a Bull Run does not always mean that
the same parties are in similar conditions at
Appomattox.  The declaration of independence did not
of itself make the colonies free.  They had to prove
their right and ability to be free; but still the
declaration had to come first.  You have fought at
Lexington, and have declared your independence,
and I think too you have had your Trenton and
Princeton.  Now if Valley Forge and Benedict
Arnold come along why you will not forget what
followed them.  But I don't mean to stand here and
croak of possible ills.  I am confident now, Hill,
that you are beginning to be master of yourself,
and that is what the discipline and training of a
school course and school life are for.  Come and
see me again soon, Hill.  Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mr. Crane," said Ward; and then he
started directly across the campus toward his room
to prepare for supper.

Somehow he was feeling strangely elated.  He
could not see that there had been any radical change
in himself or in his relations with his fellows, but
the trial of the afternoon on the ball-ground had
been passed, and he had played a game which
certainly must have proven to all that whether he was
on the nine or not, there was no one in the school
who could do better.

And he could not fail to see too the change which
already had become manifest in the feelings of many
of the boys toward him.  The surprise with which
they had first observed him when he went out on
the field, the sneers of Tim Pickard, reflected in a
measure by some of his boon companions, the
remarks which his appearance had called forth, had
all soon changed, that is, all save Tim's malice, which
had given place to an expression of intense and
bitter hatred.

Still Ward thought he could endure that.  His
vigorous body was still tingling from the effects of
his exercise, and the words of Mr. Crane were still
sounding in his ears.  Added to all that was the
evident pleasure of the spectators which his ability
as a player had aroused, and the cordial encouragement
of the one teacher in the school whom he most
respected and loved.  Ward was beginning to feel
as if life were not such a heavy burden after all.

"Well, Ward, that was a great game you put up
this afternoon," said Henry, as his room-mate
entered the room.  "The way in which you batted Tim
almost broke him up."

"Did it?" said Ward lightly, as he at once began
to wash.

"It did that, and it tickled the rest of us, or rather
some of us, mightily too.  Tim will soon have to
give you back your place on the nine."

"No, he'll not do that," replied Ward quickly.
"Tim's got enough of the nine under his thumb to
have his say, and I know he'd rather leave than
have me on the team."

"But surely, Ward, after to-day's work you'll not
object to Jack's proposal?"

"Jack's proposal?  I don't know just what you mean."

"Why, that he and I should tell Tim that he must
take you back or we'd leave the nine."

"No.  I never should agree to that," replied Ward
quietly.  "I'd never want to get on the nine in that
way.  I'd stay off forever before I'd do that.  Not
that I don't thank you," he hastily added, as he
saw an expression of genuine disappointment
creeping over his room-mate's face.  "It's mighty good
of you and Jack, and I'll never forget it, either.
But, you see, even if I were willing to go on in
that way, Tim still has the most of the nine, and I
think the most of the school too, on his side, and
I think it would break up the team.  And with the
game coming on with the Burrs so soon now, that
would never do, you see."

"Still, I wish you were on the nine, Ward," said
Henry.  "I want you, and the nine needs you."

"Oh, well," replied Ward, speaking far more lightly
than he felt, "it'll all come out right in the end.
Jordan's a hard road to travel, but I've got to take
things as they come."

"You're doing great work in the classes, anyway,
Ward.  Dr. Gray told me the other night that your
reports were great so far in the term."

"Did he say that?" said Ward eagerly, his hunger
for praise returning in an instant.

"Yes, that's just what he said."

"Well, that's enough without making the nine."

Ward's prophecy proved to be correct.  Unknown
to him Henry and Jack went and had a talk with
Tim Pickard, but the captain of the nine utterly
refused to listen to any plea in Ward's behalf.  He
threatened, if they persisted in pressing his claims,
to throw up his own position and take with him
the four members of the team whom he controlled,
and with the aid of whose votes he was always able
to have his own way, as with his own vote they made
a majority.

Neither of the boys informed Ward of their efforts
on his behalf, fearing that the failure might
serve to dampen the returning ardor which he now
displayed.

And Ward longed to be on the nine too.  Conscious
of his own ability as a player, and eager as
he was for the excitement of the games and the
applause of his fellows, it was no slight disappointment
to feel that he was shut off from it all, and
that he was powerless to change the conditions that
surrounded him.

He did not go down to the grounds every day, for
that seemed to him too much as if he were pushing
for his former place on the nine.  Still, he went
there frequently and willingly taking any position
assigned him on the scrub team, threw himself into
the game with all his heart.

Meanwhile he did not neglect his lessons.  Come
what might, he was resolved to do well in them.
As the days passed his own pleasure increased as
he saw that no one in the class was doing better
than he.  Berry thus far was his most dangerous
competitor, for "Luscious" was a bright fellow and
not one to shirk his work.  His influence on Jack too,
was becoming apparent, and Jack's class work was
far better than any he had ever done in the course
of his three years at Weston.

Jack seemed to rejoice in his own success too,
and made many sly references to the honors he
was hoping to win.  Indeed, he was accustomed
now to refer to himself and Ward and Luscious when
the three by chance were together as the "three
valedics."

"And the greater of the three--ah, that's a secret.
That's to be revealed in the forthcoming chapters, as
the books say," he would laughingly add.

Another change also became manifest in Ward.
There was no more surprised boy in all the Weston
school than Big Smith, when one morning on his
way to the Latin room Ward overtook him and
walked on by his side.

"Got your lesson, Smith?" said Ward.

"No, not all of it.  I fear I'm like the men that
toiled all night and took nothing.  I've been studying
hours and hours on one passage here, but somehow
I can't get it."

"Which is it?" said Ward cordially.  "Perhaps I
can give you a lift."

"If you only would, Ward," said Big Smith eagerly,
as he opened the book at the difficult passage.

Ward translated the passage, and when he had
finished, Big Smith said: "I don't understand how
it is, Ward, that you can do these things and I
can't.  My brain is larger than yours," and Big
Smith removed his hat and thoughtfully stroked
his hair as he spoke.  "Now I've always heard that
the size of a man's head was the measure of his
ability, and I know my hat is two sizes larger than
yours, Ward.  And yet you could read that place
and I couldn't," he added ruefully.  "How do you
account for it, Ward?"

"Quality, not quantity," said Ward with a laugh,
who was light-hearted in the consciousness of having
helped another, a comparatively new experience
for him.

The consequences of that act made Ward afterward
somewhat dubious as to the real benefits he
had bestowed on his classmate.  Almost every
evening Big Smith obtained permission from Mr. Blake
to go up to Ward's room, and for a long time he
would remain there and listen to Ward as he
translated the difficult passages for him.

At last his presence during the study hour
became a burden.  "Big Smith is an unmitigated
nuisance," Henry declared.  The boys posted great
notices on their door which bore such alarming
headlines as "Smallpox within," "This is my busy
day," "No one admitted except on business," "Danger,"
and other similar mild and suggestive devices.
But Big Smith calmly ignored them all, and every
night when the study hour was about half done
would appear, and with his unmoved and benign
countenance ask for the aid which Ward never
refused him now.

At last Henry declared it could be borne no
longer, and as Ward knew how hard the work was
for his chum and how Big Smith's interruptions
confused him, he uttered no protest when Henry
boldly told the intruder one night that if he wanted
help he must come for it out of study hours.

"But I don't ask you for help, Henry," replied Big
Smith in apparent surprise.

"I know that; but you're imposing on Ward's
good nature, and I can't study when you two fellows
are talking.  Besides, I don't think it's the
square thing for you to take Ward's work into class
as your own."

"But I don't," protested Big Smith warmly.  "I
never in my life took his work into class."

"Why don't you get a pony, Big Smith?  That
would be the easiest way out of it."

"Me get a pony?  Do you think I'd use a translation?
Not much.  I'm thankful for one thing,
and that is, I never have used a pony, as you call
it, yet."

"What do you call it when you come up here
and get Ward to read your Latin and Greek to you,
I'd like to know."

"That?  Oh, that's not a pony.  That's just Ward Hill."

Both his hearers laughed in spite of their efforts
to restrain themselves, Big Smith meanwhile looking
from one to the other as if he were not quite able
to see the joke.

"No, Big Smith," said Henry at last, "I don't
want to be small or mean, but I have to work hard
for all I get, and when you come up here in study
hours you just break me all up.  I don't mind it
any other time; but it doesn't seem to me just the
square thing to break in on another fellow's time.
I wouldn't do it; it doesn't seem to me that Mr. Blake
ought to let you do it, either.  What are the study
hours for?"

"I'm sure I don't want to come here if I'm not
wanted," replied Big Smith soberly.

"That's not it; that's not it at all," protested
Henry.  "It's only for a quiet study hour I'm arguing.
I don't think you ought to break in on another
fellow's work.  Now, do you?"

"But," said Big Smith in his most solemn tones,
"all my teachers say I've been doing a great deal
better work of late.  I'm sure you wouldn't want me
to drop back in my work or stand lower in the
class, would you?"

With a hopeless sigh Henry turned again to his
work.  It seemed as if it were almost impossible to
impress the conception of the needs of any one
else on Big Smith's mind.

Ward, however, finally adjusted matters to the
satisfaction of both by promising his aid to Big
Smith after breakfast each morning, in the hour
between breakfast time and chapel.  In his new
desire to follow out Jack's suggestion and make
himself familiar and helpful to his companions, he
never once thought of the harm he might be doing
Big Smith.  Indeed he went much further, and
soon a number of the boys in the class joined Big
Smith each morning and listened to Ward as he
read aloud the lessons of the day.

And Ward was thinking only of the aid he was
giving, not at all of the harm the others might
receive.  But then we are told in many ways outside
the realm of physics that the reaction is always
equal to the action.  Perhaps Ward Hill, however,
was yet to learn that lesson--a lesson which
certainly each must learn for himself and not for
another.

Meanwhile, through all these days Ward's room
not been touched.  Whoever had done the
"stacking" had now, at least for a time, ceased
from his labors.  That there was still a very bitter
feeling against him on the part of many he well
knew, nor could he attribute it all to the immediate
circle of the "Tangs."

Ward felt the prejudice keenly, but he resolutely
held himself to his work, and by the aid he gave
the boys in their lessons and by mingling with them
more than he had done of late, he was hoping to
win his way back to the position he had once held
in the school.

Nor was this born of a weak desire for popularity
alone.  That was true in part, but only in
part; but Ward Hill, as we have said, was one of
those few persons who cannot deceive themselves.

And he had realized the truthfulness of Jack's and
Mr. Crane's words, and was now resolutely trying
to set himself right.  While he longed for and
keenly enjoyed the praise and good-will of his fellows,
still unless he felt in his heart that they were
true and deserved he did not feel thoroughly happy
in receiving them.  So perhaps a dual motive was
at work at this time on Ward's heart--the eager
longing for the praise of the school and the equally
strong desire to feel that it was true and merited.
Let us not blame him too harshly.  Purely good
motives are sadly lacking in this world of ours.  And
then, even a gold coin contains some alloy, but the
most of us are not inclined to reject the use which
can be made of it because of the baser metal it
contains.

Little Pond was now doing nobly.  He looked up
to Ward with unbounded confidence.  Ward more
than once found himself wondering whether he had
ever looked up to a senior in that way.  Still he
rejoiced in the little fellow's success and felt strongly
drawn to him, although he knew in his heart that
his days of trial were not all past.

And now the approaching game with the Burrs
became the absorbing topic of the school.  The nine
was working vigorously and Ward went down more
frequently to play on the team which was to give
them their daily practice.

No one knew how heavy his heart was and with
what unutterable longing he desired his place on the
team.  Still he held himself resolutely to the line he
had marked out.  He studied faithfully, tried to
make himself friendly with the boys, and
apparently threw himself heartily into the task of giving the
nine the practice they sadly needed.  And no one
heard him complain, and not even to Jack did he
mention his desire for his former position, a
position now filled by Ripley.  And yet somehow he
had the feeling that Jack understood, although
neither made any reference to it now.

So matters stood on the day before the great
game.  The final preparations had been completed,
the last practice of the nine had occurred, and
throughout the school there was the strong though
subdued excitement which always preceded the
great game.

But Ward Hill, with a heavy heart and a kind of
dull misery, looked forward to the morrow.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE BEGINNING OF THE GREAT GAME`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVI


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE BEGINNING OF THE GREAT GAME

.. vspace:: 2

The following morning dawned clear and bright,
and many a boy in the Weston school gave a sigh
of relief when first he looked from his windows.  The
rugged hills, now covered with the highly tinted
autumn foliage, displayed patches of clouds resting
on their summits or creeping far up along the wooded
slopes.  The sun, however, would soon burn away
all such slight affairs as these gray-colored floating
clouds or stretches of fog, and the boys were rejoicing.

The games with the Burrs were the great events
of the school year.  Not only were the schools
themselves of equally high standing, and in a sense
rivals, but the advantage for a few years now in
the ball games had been with the Burrs, and the
Weston boys consequently were especially eager to
win this time.  As the game was to be played upon
their own grounds they had a slight advantage, but
all were somewhat nervous and the excitement ran
correspondingly high.

There were to be recitations in the morning only.
It was almost impossible for the eager lads to hold
themselves to their work, but the teachers were
somewhat lenient with them, and some of the
ludicrous mistakes were passed over with a smile.

Indeed, it was whispered that the teachers themselves
were not far behind the boys in sharing the
excitement which pervaded the school, and were as
desirous that the nine should win as were the
players themselves.

Soon after noon autos could be seen coming
along the pretty valley roads or making their way
over the hillsides.  But whether from hill or valley
made no difference, for there was one destination
for them all and that was the ball ground.  Old and
young, men and women, boys and girls were there,
and the assembled crowd gave promise of being
unusually large.

The great busses filled with the boys and girls
from the neighboring school began to put in an
appearance, for the rival school was co-educational in
its methods, and the girls were apparently as eager
and excited as their brothers.  Long streamers
and banners floated out from behind the well-filled
machines and many of the girls were waving flags or
long ribbons of the school colors, handily adjusted
to a cane or some similar device.

A crowd of the Weston boys was waiting in front
of the chapel for the Burr nine to come, for it was
known that they were to have a special auto.

Some of the members of the Weston nine, clad
in their bright new uniforms, mingled with the
crowd and as a committee were waiting to welcome
and conduct the visiting nine to the dressing rooms.
Their efforts to appear calm and unmindful of the
attention they attracted provoked a smile from some
of the waiting boys, but no one begrudged them the
honors which were theirs, and as they joined in the
shouts and laughter which continually arose, or
stopped to converse about the prospects of the nine
in the coming game, the interest steadily increased.

"There they are!  There they come!" suddenly
some one in the crowd shouted, and in a moment the
sound of the horn carried by the Burrs could be
heard in the distance.  In a brief time the huge
auto drew up before the crowd and the Burr nine
leaped nimbly out upon the ground.

"Hello, Shackford," said Tim Pickard advancing
and grasping the outstretched hand of the rival
captain.  "Glad to see you.  If we have as big a
game as we have crowd, there will be something to
see before night comes."

Tim proceeded to shake hands with each member
of the team and then at once started with them
to lead the way to the rooms which had been
assigned to the visitors.

The waiting crowd parted and stood watching
with undisguised curiosity the opposing nine as they
filed past them following Tim.  Certainly they were
a sturdy lot, and the low murmurs which could be
heard among the Weston boys as the others withdrew
were not entirely those of confidence in the
success of their own team.

Meanwhile Ward Hill had gone down to the ball
ground and lay on the grass in the rear of the field
in a place from which he could easily follow the
progress of the game.

Beside him were Henry and Jack, both in uniforms,
the latter sitting erect and occasionally
pounding the ground before him with the bat he
was holding in his hands.  Not one of the trio was
happy, and Ward least so of the three, although he
was striving manfully to appear unmindful of the
excitement which, though subdued, was still
apparent on all sides of them.

"It's tough, Ward," said Jack; "I want to win
this game, but I never went into one with such a
mean feeling as I've got now.  It's a shame you're
not to play.  It's worse than a shame.  The nine
needs you and I know how you feel, old fellow.  Say,
Ward," he added, suddenly leaping to his feet, "if
you'll say the word, we'll fix Tim yet.  Henry and I
can go to him and declare that if he won't take
you on, we're off.  And he'll have to give in now,
with the crowd all here and everything ready to
begin."

"Yes, Ward, that's what we'll do," chimed in
Henry.  "It can be done now."

"No, fellows," said Ward shaking his head.  "I
told you I couldn't go on in that way; and then
too, I'm not in practice, you know."

"Bother the practice!  You'll do better without
it than most of us can with it.  Here they come,
Ward!  Say the word and the deed's done."

But Ward still shook his head.  He could not
bring himself to do what Jack asked.  And yet how
he did long to be in the game!

The appearance of the nines upon the field was
greeted by a shout and the school cheers were almost
deafening on every side.  The banners and flags were
waving, the girls were standing erect in the
autos, and the entire scene was stirring and
exhilarating in the highest degree.  "Good luck to you,
fellows," said Ward as Jack and Henry started to
go and join their comrades.

Neither of them replied save by the look which
they gave him and soon were with the nine.

The ground was cleared now, and the allotted
time of preliminary practice for each team was
given.  As Ward watched the boys it almost seemed
to him that he could not endure the sight.  Only a
year before and he had been one of the team.  Even
now he could feel again the thrill which he had when
at the close of that famous game his mates had
borne him from the field on their shoulders.  But
now no one seemed to care whether he played or
not.  And all the time there was the consciousness in
his own heart that there was not a better player
than he in all the Weston school.

Summoning all his resolution he left his place and
took a position near the end of the long line of
Weston boys who were standing well back on one side
of the ground.  He had seen Big Smith and Pond
there, and even their company was comforting to
him now.

"Hello, Ward," was Big Smith's hail as Ward
approached; "I should think you would wish you were
on the nine now.  Do you know, I almost feel
as if I could play well enough myself to take a
position."

Ward made no response, though Big Smith little
realized how his words had stung the troubled boy.
The Weston nine had taken their positions in the
field and the game was about to begin.

Ward glanced out toward left field, his old
position, and his heart was bitter toward Ripley, who
now was playing there.  Ward knew he could fill
the place much better than Ripley ever could.
Indeed, his heart was so bitter that he was almost
divided in his feelings between his desire for the
Weston boys to win, and that Ripley and Tim should
not put up a good game.

But everything was in readiness now and the
hush which came over the assembly betrayed the
suppressed excitement.  Shackford grasped his bat
and advanced to the plate, the umpire tossed the
ball to Tim and gave the word, and the game with
the Burrs was begun.

Tim settled himself into his position, drew back
his arm and sent the ball in with all the speed he
could put forth.  Shackford for two years had been
captain of the Burr nine and his prowess was well
known.  There was no one the Weston boys feared
as they did him.

Shackford was ready, and the very first ball Tim
sent in he caught fairly on the end of the bat and
sent far down the field close to the foul flag.

A shout of delight arose from all the friends of
the Burrs as the runner started swiftly toward the
first base.

"Foul, foul ball!" called the umpire and Shackford
stopped suddenly on his way to the second base.

A murmur of disapproval arose from the crowd,
and Ward, who was standing not very far from
the place where the ball had struck, shook his head.
To him the ball had seemed fair, but he said
nothing and admired the spirit of Shackford as he
raised his hand toward his supporters, betokening
his desire for no manifestations of the kind which
had just been heard, and went slowly back to the
home-plate and once more picking up his bat stood
facing the pitcher.

"One strike!" called the umpire as Tim sent the
ball swiftly in.

"Two strikes!" he called again as the second ball
went whistling past.

A low murmur could be heard as the excitement
of the watching crowd increased.  Shackford was
ready and stood grimly waiting for Tim's next move.
"One ball" and "two balls" followed and the strain
on all was becoming more intense.

The next ball, however, was apparently the very
one for which the captain of the Burrs had been
waiting, for he struck it hard and squarely, and it
went far up into the air directly into the territory
which Ripley was guarding.

Again a shout of delight was heard from the
supporters of the Burrs, but it was hushed in a moment
as Ripley took his stand and waited with
outstretched hands for the descending ball.

Shackford was speeding on toward the third base,
but Ward was unmindful of him.  He was watching
his supplanter in left field.  The ball settled lower
and lower; but whether it was because Ripley was
highly excited or had misjudged the ball was not
known; it struck his hands and bounded out again.
The fielder had squarely muffed it.

A groan arose from the Weston boys, and "Hi! yi! yi!"
came from many of the friends of the Burrs.

Ward could not lament Ripley's failure, that would
have been too much to expect of human nature; but
still he turned angrily, as he heard the shouts, and
then said to Little Pond: "That's a mean trick! no
one ought to applaud his opponents' errors."

"I don't see why not," said Big Smith.

"Because it's no way to do," said Ward.  "If you
can't win squarely you don't want to win at all.
But keep still.  Let's see what'll be done now."

Shackford was on third base now, and as he kept
dancing about, Tim, who had the ball, threw it to
the baseman, but in his eagerness he sent it over
his head among the crowd.  Shackford ran home,
much to the delight of his friends and the chagrin of
the Weston boys.  The first run had been scored with
no one out.

Three more of the Burrs nine crossed the plate
before the inning closed, the success of Shackford
evidently encouraging his followers even more than
the glaring errors of their opponents.  When the
Weston boys came in to take their turn at the bat
their faces were glum and the prospect was far
from bright.  Tim was the first batter, and got his
base on balls.

As Jack Hobart stepped to the plate to follow
him, Ward turned to the boys near him and called:
"Let's give him a cheer, fellows!"

The cheers rang out, Ward's voice being the loudest
of them all.  Evidently Jack felt the stimulus,
for he sent the ball between left and center fields,
and Tim was soon on third, while Jack rested on
second.  But neither could go any farther.  The
next two batters struck out, and the third sent up
a little fly which Shackford himself easily caught.

"Four to nothing," said Ward as the sides
changed.  "Not a very bright outlook."  But the
inning closed without another run being scored.

On the Weston side Henry succeeded in making
the circuit of the bases and thus scored the first
run for the team.  The two succeeding innings
failed to add to the score of either side.  Both nines
were playing desperately, and the interest and
excitement of the spectators momentarily increased.

"Four to one," said Ward as the fifth inning was begun.

He had led the cheering in the portion of the
crowd where he stood, and in his eagerness for the
Weston boys to win, for the time he had almost
forgotten his own disappointment.  Ripley had struck
out each time he had been at the bat, and certainly
his success in the field had not been very marked
thus far.

Again it was Shackford's turn to bat, and as
he advanced to the plate the expression of determination
on his face was to be clearly seen.  Four to
one was certainly no small advantage, and the
captain of the Burrs was determined to hold it if
such a thing were possible.

Again he waited until two strikes and two balls
had been called.  The crowd evidently was anxious,
but Shackford appeared to be as cool and calm as
if nothing were expected from him.

Ward had glanced aside a moment.  The suspense
of the spectators was interesting if nothing more.
He was suddenly recalled by a yell which seemed to
have arisen from a thousand throats.  Shackford
had lifted the ball high into the air, and once more
it was coming directly into Ripley's territory.

The eager fielder started after the ball.  He was
compelled to run back and to Ward it seemed as if
the ball were going far over his head.  But having
gone back as far as was necessary, Ripley turned
sharply and ran in.  The ball was settling lower and
lower now, and just as the fielder stretched forth
his hands for it his feet slipped from under him and
he fell headlong on the ground, while the ball went
rolling far beyond him.

When he had regained his footing and sent the
ball in Shackford was once more on third base.  A
low but pronounced murmur rose from the Weston
crowd which could be heard even above the shouts of
the Burrs, but in a moment silence was restored, as
the next batter took his place and faced Tim.  The
crack which resounded when he struck the ball could
be heard all over the field.  As if with design the
ball went skipping along the ground after it struck
just back of Jack's position as short stop, and went
rolling swiftly toward Ripley.  The excited lad tried
desperately to stop it, but failed, and the ball slipped
between his legs and went on far behind him.

The murmurings of the crowd were unmistakable
now.  "Put him off!  Put him out!  Hill!  Hill!
Ward Hill!  Put him off!  Put him out!  Ward
Hill!" could be heard on every side.

Ward's heart was beating rapidly, and he tried to
draw back out of sight; but for two minutes the cries
continued, for boys are merciless in their judgments.
At last quiet was in a measure restored and the
game went on, but the inning closed with the score
six to one against the Weston boys.

Ward could see that a crowd of angry students,
chief among whom were Jack and Henry, quickly
surrounded Tim and an animated conversation took
place, though he could not hear any of the words
which were spoken.  He was hardly prepared for
what followed, however, for after a momentary
hesitation Tim started down the lines of the waiting
spectators, and as he caught sight of Ward he
quickly turned and approached him.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE END OF THE GREAT GAME`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE END OF THE GREAT GAME

.. vspace:: 2

"The fellows want you to take Ripley's place,"
said Tim gruffly.

Ward's heart responded in an instant.  The
Weston boys were to bat now and the excitement in
the crowd was increasing.  He longed to have a
share in the work which must be done within the
four innings yet to be played.  It was a marvelous
thing too, that Tim should himself come and invite
him to return to his place.  It was true he was
surly, and his countenance betrayed his feelings.  The
pressure of the nine and the crowd had been too
strong for him to resist; and then, doubtless the
advantage which the Burr nine had thus far won
also had its influence, for no one more earnestly
desired to win the game than did Tim Pickard.

Eager as Ward was, he still hesitated a moment.
He well knew that Tim's anger would not cease if
he should do well; while if he should fail in a
time when so much was expected, his position in
the school would be all the more trying.

Tim stood waiting before him and did not repeat
his request.

In a moment Jack came running toward him, and
as he came up, said: "Hurry up, Ward!  Never
mind the uniform.  We won't stop for that.  Just
throw off your coat and come on.  You can afford
to spoil a dozen suits rather than let the Burrs win
this game!"

Noticing the hesitation of his friend, Jack
continued: "Oh, don't pull off now, Ward! all the
school wants you.  We've just got to have you, and
that's all there is to it.  Did you ever in your life
see such work as Ripley made of it?  I don't believe
he could stop the moon if it was rolled at him by
a baby.  Come on, Ward, come on!  Tim and I have
got to go and bat, and we can't stay any longer.  All
the fellows want him, don't they, Tim?" he added,
turning to the captain of the nine.

"That's what they say," growled Tim, and yet
Ward could readily see that he was almost as eager
for him to play as Jack was, only he could not
bring himself to urge the boy whom he had abused
in so many ways and hated with such a genuine
hatred.

Just at this juncture Mr. Crane approached and
touching Ward lightly upon the shoulder said in a
low voice: "I should go in, Hill.  You've nothing
to lose and much to gain.  Remember, you've had
your Lexington and the Declaration of Independence
and Trenton and Princeton, and now you're at
Monmouth.  Don't let the British or General Lee baffle
you now.  Besides, you must think of the school too."

Ward looked at the teacher in as great surprise
as did Jack and Tim, and his hesitation was gone.
He had no desire to appear unwilling or indifferent,
for he certainly was not controlled by either
feeling.  He longed to enter the game and did not wish
to be "coaxed" into it.  All his hesitation had arisen
from the fear that if he should not do well his
position in the school would not be improved, and the
enmity of Tim's special friends would only be
intensified.

"I'll come in," he said gently, "and do the best I
can."

"Good for you, Ward! good for you!" shouted
Jack tossing his hat into the air and turning a
somersault.  "He'll take Ripley's place at the bat then,
won't he, Tim?"

"I suppose so," replied Tim.

"Come on then, Ward.  Maybe you'll get a chance
this inning.  Tim, you're next up," he added as he
noticed who the batsman was, "and I follow you.
We'll have to go now, Ward.  Come up and take a
seat on the players' bench."

"I'll be around in time," replied Ward quietly.

For several reasons he preferred to retain his
place in the crowd for the present, unless his turn
to bat should come.

Somehow fortune's wheel turned slightly in favor
of the Weston boys, and although Ward's turn to
bat did not come, the inning closed with two more
runs scored by the nine.

"Six to three," shouted the boys as the players
started for their places in the field.

Ward's heart was beating high as he slowly drew
off his coat and handed it to Little Pond, who proudly
received it, and then he started toward his old
place in left field.

His appearance was at once noted by the crowd
and received with a cheer.  It was true it seemed
to be wanting in the volume and heartiness of the
old-time applause, but still it did Ward's heart good.

Striving to appear unmindful he looked away
from the crowd as the game was now resumed.
What had become of Ripley he did not know.

The inning was quickly ended, without a run being
scored.  Not a ball had come near him, and Ward
was not grieved over the fact, for his nerves were
in such a highly strung condition that he was
fearful he would not have been able to do much had
the opportunity presented itself.

He was the second at bat, however, and as he
heard his name called he carefully selected his bat
and then tried to collect his thoughts and appear
calm, though he was far from feeling as he strove
to appear.

Shackford, the pitcher of the Burr nine apparently
was becoming somewhat nervous, for he gave
the first batter his base on balls.

Ward grasped his bat and started resolutely
toward the plate.  The crowd was silent, but Ward
realized how eager his friends were for him to do
well.  Even a goodly portion of Tim's sneer had
disappeared, and Ward could not determine whether
his stronger desire was now for the nine to win or
for him to fail.  The task before the lad, however,
quickly banished all other thoughts from his mind.
How eager he was and determined to do his best.

"One strike," called the umpire.  "Two strikes,"
he repeated a moment later.

Shackford was doing his utmost to puzzle him
and Ward began to fear that he would strike out.
The next ball, however, came close in to him and
before he could dodge it or step out of its way it
struck the handle of his bat and dropped a little
ways from the plate.  In an instant Ward flung
aside his bat and rushed at his swiftest pace for
first base, the runner in advance of him of course
having started for second.

The excitement and necessity for quick action
apparently rattled the Burrs, for both Shackford
and the catcher started together for the ball, and as
no one called out who was to make the play, the
consequence was that they came together in a sharp
collision, and were both thrown to the ground.

Before they could recover Ward was safe at first,
and the other runner had gained the second base.

Shackford now began to play more deliberately.
Every move was carefully timed, and he guarded
his nine well.  In spite of all the efforts of the
Weston boys, and the encouraging shouts of their friends
among the spectators, they could succeed in getting
but one man around the bases, Ward having been
left on third.

"Six to four, and only two more innings to
play," said Jack to Ward as they walked together
out upon the field to resume their positions.  "Not
a very brilliant prospect for us."

"We'll not give up before the last man is out,"
said Ward.  "There's nothing more uncertain in all
the world than a game of ball, and it's never finished
till the end has come."

He had done nothing to warrant any special
praise thus far, but he was in high spirits
nevertheless.  The increasing excitement as the game
drew toward its close was manifest among players
and spectators alike, and Ward Hill, as we know,
was ever one of the quickest to respond to his
immediate surroundings.

Again the inning closed without the Burrs being
able to score.  The utmost they could do was to
get a man as far as second base, but there he was
left.

"We've got two turns at the bat and they've got
one," said Jack, as they came in from the field.
"We've got to make three runs to win the game."

The inning opened very promisingly for the
Weston boys.  Both Tim and Jack made hits, and were
on third and second bases respectively.  The next
two batters were out however, and as they all
realized that everything depended upon the efforts of
the next man, the crowd followed his movements
with almost breathless interest.

"One strike!" called the umpire, and the various
feelings of the spectators were at once apparent in
their responses.  "One ball!" "Two balls!" quickly
followed.

Suddenly the crowd rose from their seats and
stood leaning forward in intense suspense as they
followed the movements of the catcher, who had
let the ball which Shackford had pitched somewhat
wildly get by him.  Tim started quickly from third,
and was running as he had never run before.  Shackford
stood waiting on the plate with outstretched
hands for the ball to be thrown by the catcher, who
was doing his utmost to get it and return it before
Tim could gain the plate.  Every player was eagerly
watching the movements, and not a sound could be
heard from the spectators.  Nearer and nearer
came Tim, and now the catcher had grasped the
rolling ball.  With a quick movement he turned and
threw it swiftly to Shackford, who caught it just
as Tim gained the plate, and running into the
player threw both heavily to the ground.

The crowd rushed in from their places eager to
learn the decision of the umpire, who had been
standing close to the boys as they came together.
"He's out!" shouted the umpire as he waved his
hand for the spectators to go back to their places.
For a moment there was a scene of confusion.  In
their excitement many of the boys forgot what
was expected of them, and the shouts and cheers
of the schools were mingled with the groans and
cries of those who took different views of the
decision which had just been made.

Tim was thoroughly angry, and stood talking
loudly with the umpire, claiming that he had cheated
him out of a run and the nine from a score which
it had justly won.

In a moment, however, several of the boys had
surrounded the excited captain, and at last, after
much persuasion, induced him to return to his place
in the field.

"It was close," said Jack to Ward, "and I think
we ought to have had it; but we can't help ourselves,
and there's no use in kicking."

The excitement was now intense as the Burrs
came to the bat for the last time.  The score still
stood two in their favor, and even if they did not
succeed in adding to it, the advantage was still
decidedly on their side.  Every movement of the
players was cheered now, and the nervous actions of the
rival nines betrayed their own desires to win.

Tim Pickard was sending the balls in with a speed
he had never had before.  If his own exertions
could win the game, then surely the Weston boys
ought not to lose that day.

The first batsman struck out, and a fierce cheer
arose from the Weston contingent as the player
flung his bat on the ground and strode back to his
place on the bench.

The next was struck by the first ball Tim threw
in, and was evidently hurt, but in a moment he
pluckily started toward first base, and the cheers
of the spectators followed him.

His successor also struck out, and the din which
arose was almost deafening.  All depended now upon
the efforts of the next batter, and the Weston boys'
hearts sank when they saw that this was to be
Shackford, the heaviest hitter on the opposing nine.

Shackford grasped his bat and stood calmly
facing Tim, each realizing that it was now a battle
royal.  Tim was a trifle wild now, and the fears
of his friends increased when the batter hit one
or two long fouls that went far down the field, but
luckily outside the lines.  Again Shackford hit the
ball, and sent it with tremendous force down the
field directly toward the short stop.  Jack made a
desperate effort to stop it, but it was going so
swiftly that it almost threw him backward, and he
dropped the ball.  In an instant, however, he
recovered himself, and quickly picking up the ball threw
it swiftly to the second baseman, who was waiting
for it.  He caught it just an instant before the
runner gained the base, and the umpire shouted, "Out!"

The din on the field now increased.  Most of the
spectators were standing, and the boys were crowding
close in to the lines.  Each of the Weston
players was cheered by name as he approached the plate
and stood facing the calm and collected pitcher of
the Burrs.

The first man was out, and a yell of delight arose
from the supporters of the Burrs.

The second made a hit, and a louder shout arose
from the friends of the Weston nine.

The third batter sent up a high foul, which was
easily caught by the third baseman, and the uproar
broke out again.  Another gained his base, and now
two men were out, two were on the bases, and two
runs were required to tie the game, and three to
win, and it was Ward Hill's turn to bat.  Already
some of the outer spectators were leaving the
grounds, for the game seemed to be practically
ended.

"Now do your duty, Ward Hill!" called Jack as
Ward grasped his bat and started toward the plate.
"Remember everything depends upon you."

Ward made no reply.  Was it likely he could fail
to realize how much depended upon him?  He was
dimly conscious of the applause which greeted him.
Eager faces seemed to surround him, and the
tension was intense.

Shackford brushed back the hair from his wet
forehead, glanced coolly about him at the runners
on the bases and to see that his own men were all
ready, then quickly drew back his arm and sent
the ball in swiftly and directly over the plate.

"One strike!" called the umpire, and shrieks and
calls resounded from the crowd.

Before Ward could prepare himself Shackford
swiftly drew back his arm and sent in another ball.

"Two strikes!" shouted the umpire, and cheers
and jeers alike could now be heard.  Indeed, many
more of the spectators arose to depart, for it seemed
to be evident that the end had come.  Only one
more ball might be necessary.

Shackford sent in the ball again, but this time
Ward was ready.  He hit it squarely, and with all
his force.  Only realizing that the ball was going,
he started swiftly toward first base.  It seemed to
him that pandemonium had broken loose behind him.
Shrieks, calls, shouts, and cheers were all mingled.

As he touched the first base and started toward
second he looked at the ball.  He had sent it far out
over the center-fielder's head, and not yet had he
caught up with it.  It was a terrific hit, and all of
Ward's long pent up feelings seemed to have found
vent in the force with which he had struck.  On
and on sped the ball, and on and on ran Ward.

Before he had gained the third base both of the
runners in advance of him had scored.  He touched
the third base, and putting forth all his speed
started toward home.  The applause was deafening now.
He was dimly conscious of a mass of waving banners
and flags off on his right, and that "Hi! yi! yi!"
could be heard on every side.

"Go it, Ward!  Go it!" shouted Jack intensely as
he ran outside the line to encourage his friend; and
Ward was "going it" at his very best.

He bent low and rushed forward.  He could hardly
breathe now, but his speed did not slacken.  On
and on he ran, until it seemed to him he never
could gain the coveted base.

Putting forth all the last remnant of his strength
he obeyed Jack's warning, and throwing himself on
the ground touched the base just as a last, loud,
prolonged yell came from the crowd.

With his hand on the plate he for the first time
glanced behind him.  The ball had just been thrown
in and Shackford had caught it.  The game with
the Burrs was won, and Ward Hill's long hit had
won it.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`A PUZZLING QUESTION`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XVIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   A PUZZLING QUESTION

.. vspace:: 2

Ward at first was only conscious that there was
a scene of great excitement being enacted all over
the grounds.  He had exerted himself to the utmost
and breathless and hardly able to stand he dimly
realized that a crowd of boys had surrounded him,
and that the game was won.  Soon, however, he
recovered, and with a beaming face looked out upon
the actions of his friends.  Hats were thrown into
the air, shouts and cheers could be heard on every
side.

Silence only was to be found among the supporters
of the Burrs, and they were already departing from
the field.  The treble shouts of the girls had ceased,
the banners and streamers which had been flung out
were nowhere to be seen now, but the very absence
of all the signs of cheer among the friends of the
opposing nine only served to make more emphatic
the frantic joy of the Weston boys.

It was the first game they had won in more than
two years from their sturdy opponents, and naturally
the long pent up feelings now broke forth with
the reserve of the time past.

For a long time the confusion continued.  The
cries would die away in a measure, and then some
enthusiast would lead in a cheer, and the entire
school and all its friends would take up the
response, and it would seem that all the previous
enthusiasm would be redoubled.

Boys who had not spoken to Ward since his
return to Weston now rushed forward, eager to do
him honor.  He was the center of a constantly
increasing group, for those who had been foremost
to praise him did not depart when others came
with their offering.

"Hill, I wish to congratulate you."

Ward turned as he heard the words, and saw
Shackford, the captain of the Burrs, standing before
him with outstretched hand.

"I want to congratulate you," said Shackford
again cordially.  "That was a magnificent hit.  I
never saw a heavier one.  Of course I'm sorry we
lost the game, and I know that such a hit as that
doesn't reflect very much credit upon the pitcher
of the Burrs, but all the same, I don't want to be
the last to honor the fellow that did it."

"Thank you," said Ward, highly pleased over the
cordial expression.  "You needn't say a word about
the pitcher of the Burrs.  I thought when you caught
me napping with that second strike of yours that
it was good-bye with me.  I wanted to hit you," he
added laughingly, "but I was afraid I couldn't, so I
feel all the better that it has turned out as it has."

"After your work last year, I was surprised when
I heard that you were not to play to-day.  At first
I felt afraid that if you were off the nine, it must
be that the Weston boys had found some still better
material, and I knew if that were true we had a
great contract on our hands.  It wasn't long though
before I was chuckling because you were not in
the game, and I can tell you I didn't rejoice very
much when I saw you throw off your coat and start
for left field.  Still, I hope I'm not so small as
not to be able to appreciate a good play even
when it's made by the other side, and I must say,
Hill, that hit of yours was great.  It just won the
game, and the Weston school ought to erect a
monument in your honor; they ought to, honestly."

Shackford's words served to increase the eagerness
of the boys who had crowded about Ward, and
much as he enjoyed the novel experience he soon
began to feel somewhat abashed.  He caught sight
of Little Pond looking at him with longing eyes from
the border of the assembly, and pushing his way
toward him, Ward was soon grasping his youthful
admirer by the hand.

"O Ward, I'm so glad," said Little Pond eagerly.
"Everybody's praising you."

"Are they?" replied Ward, laughing as he spoke.
"Well, I'm glad we won the game."

He started to depart from the grounds now, but
a crowd of boys still followed him, all eager to
honor the senior who had won the day and saved
the honor of the school.

And Ward Hill was happy.  His heart was exulting
over his success, and the praise of his fellows
was doubly sweet to him after his long period of
trouble.  He knew he had done well, and the
consciousness that Tim Pickard at last had been
compelled to come to him for aid, was perhaps not the
least of the sources of his enjoyment.

As the boys came up to the campus and turned
the corner by the chapel, Tim and Ripley stood
there talking with some of the Burr boys.  They
could not fail to perceive Ward in the midst of the
crowd, but neither Tim nor Ripley gave any signs
of recognition.

Ward turned to Jack and laughed aloud, so loudly
that both Tim and Ripley heard him, and a flush of
anger spread over their faces.

"Tim would rather have lost the game than have
had it won in the way it was," said Ward, as he
started to leave Jack and go to his own room.

"Oh, well," replied Jack gleefully, "you can't
blame Tim for making a wry face over swallowing
his dose; but it may do him good, after all."

"Perhaps so," said Ward dubiously.

In his heart just at that moment he cared but
little about Tim Pickard's feelings toward him.  In
the flush of success and the apparent return of his
popularity he could afford to be magnanimous, and
Tim and all his petty torments seemed now to be too
slight to be heeded.

For two or three days Ward's long hit was the
one theme of the school.  Not all of the boys,
however, joined in singing his praises, for Tim was not
without his followers, and his influence was
sufficiently strong to hold them back; but the
enthusiasm of the others more than atoned for the
failures, and Ward Hill was far happier than he had
ever been since he became a student in the Weston
school.

The consciousness of having done good work in
his classes was the main foundation of it all.  The
appeals of Little Pond, and the manner in which he
himself, with Jack's aid, had met and stopped the
stacking of his room, also helped him now, and he
rejoiced that he had not stooped to retaliate in
Tim's room, as he had been sorely tempted to do.

It may be that his success, and the sudden change
which had come in his standing in the school, may
have led Ward unknowingly to assume a new air.
If he did, it was done wholly unconsciously, but in
some way he had come to glance sneeringly at Tim
whenever he met him.  He felt so strong now that
he could afford to condescend even to Tim Pickard
himself.

One morning, three days after the game, and
when the excitement which had followed it had
somewhat abated, as Ward, after passing Tim on
their way out from Mr. Crane's room, and returning
the glance of hatred which the captain of the
nine had given him, was recalled by Mr. Crane, he
stopped a moment in front of his desk.

"I haven't seen you to speak to you since the
game," said Mr. Crane kindly.  "I wanted to tell
you that I rejoiced in your success, but perhaps
you may have heard all the words of that kind
that you care to hear."

"Not from you," replied Ward, his face flushing
with pleasure.

"What are you reading in your Greek now?"
inquired Mr. Crane.

"Homer," said Ward, wondering what that had
to do with the game with the Burrs.

"Do you recall the term which Homer applies to
Achilles?"

"Yes, 'swift-footed' is one of them."

"And what is the term which is so frequently
given the Greek heroes?"

"Why they're called 'well-greaved,' and
'great-souled,' 'great-hearted,' and, and----"

"That's the word I wanted.  The great-hearted,
great-souled men.  There's a Latin word which is
almost the equivalent of the term, and the word
was such a good one that it has been retained in
many languages, and has come down to us in a
form but slightly modified.  Do you know what the
word is?"

Ward hesitated a moment, and then, as his mind
always worked rapidly, his face lightened up as he
said, "Why, it's the word 'magnanimous,' isn't it?"

"That's the very word.  And what does that word
literally mean, then?"

"Large-minded."

"That's right.  I mustn't detain you any longer
or you'll be late for your Greek.  Come and see me
some time soon, Hill."

Ward went out of the room, but he was somewhat
puzzled over his interview with the teacher.  What
did Mr. Crane mean by asking him those questions?
Was he only trying to test his knowledge?  Ward
knew better than that.  Mr. Crane was not one
to put idle questions to him, especially at such a
time as he had chosen for the brief interview.  But
what could he mean?

Ward entered the Greek room, but he only partially
heard what Dr. Gray was saying to the class.
Boy after boy was called upon to recite, but Ward
was giving slight heed to what was occurring about
him.  His thoughts were upon Mr. Crane's strange
questions.  What could he mean by them?  He never
assumed that manner, his eyes slightly twinkling
as if there was some concealed joke in his mind and
his grave, quiet ways being all the more impressive,
without having something more than the mere
questions in his mind.

The recitation was about half done, when suddenly
Ward started up in his seat.  His face flushed
as he almost spoke aloud.

Jack looked at him in astonishment, but Ward
made no reply as he hastily turned again to his
book, and apparently was only following the recitation.
And yet in a flash it had come to him what
Mr. Crane had meant by his questions.  At first he
felt somewhat resentful, but as his mind ran rapidly
over the events of the past few days, he could not
conceal from himself the fact that he had given too
much justification for the implied rebuke of his
teacher.

All through the day his mind kept going back
to that brief interview with Mr. Crane, and the
recollection was not always a source of pleasure.

That evening a group of boys was assembled in
his room, Little Pond, Jack, and Big Smith all
being there, as well as Ward and his room-mate.  The
conversation had been almost entirely on the game
with the Burrs, which to them at least, and most
of all to Ward, was still a topic of great interest.

"Well," Jack was saying, "we've got this game,
thanks to Ward, and even if we lose the return game
in the spring we're not so badly off as we might be.
The valedic will help us out then too, won't you,
Ward?"

"There's no knowing who the valedic will be, I'm
thinking.  Your friend Luscious is making a pretty
strong bid for it, and Little Pond here says his big
brother is coming back next week."

"Is that so?" said Jack eagerly, turning to the
lad as he spoke.  "Is that so?  Why I thought he
wasn't coming back till after the Christmas vacation."

"He didn't expect to," replied Little Pond; "but
it's turned out so that he can come next week,
and I'm expecting him next Wednesday."

"That's fine," said Jack enthusiastically.  "I tell
you, Pond's got the right stuff in him.  Now Luscious
has had a good influence on me, and I've braced up
wonderfully under his valuable example, and if Pond
comes back I think I shall make a try of it myself
for the valedic.  'Us four, no more,' will be in it
then."

The boys laughed at Jack's declaration that he
was about to try for the honors of the class, for
they all knew that the impulsive boy was not over
fond of study, and that the improvement in his
class work had been almost entirely due to the
efforts which Berry had made in his behalf.

"I don't see why it is," said Big Smith solemnly,
"that I don't receive more recognition in the school.
I've tried to do my best, and yet I'm left out of
everything.  It sometimes seems to me that if a
fellow is wild, or gets into scrapes and then reforms,
there's a good deal more of a time made over him
than there is over a fellow who just plods on and
never does anything bad at all.  I can't understand it."

Ward's face flushed, for it seemed as if Big Smith
meant to be personal.  Perhaps the recent return of
his own popularity was the more marked because of
its very contrast with his previous record and position.

An angry reply rose to his lips, but in a moment
the interview with Mr. Crane flashed into his mind,
and he bit his lips and remained silent.  "'Great-hearted,'
'large-minded,'" he thought.  "I suppose
Mr. Crane was trying to get me to stretch my soul
a bit, and I'll try not to be petty and small to-day,
anyway."

"Big Smith," said Jack solemnly, rising and
moving his right arm up and down after the manner of
a pump-handle as he spoke, "there's a great truth
in what you say.  I've suffered from the effects of
it, lo, these seventeen years.  I've often thought if
I'd fallen into evil ways or joined in a few scrapes,
that when the school saw, as the fellows all must
see now, the mighty change in me, they'd give me
a good deal more credit than they do.  But they
just take it all for granted, you see, and expect me
to do well every time."

"You can laugh all you please," said Big Smith,
"but it's true.  Now look at Ward.  He's been in
more scrapes than I, for I never was in one since
I came to Weston; but just see how all the fellows,
or almost all of them, are talking him up on every
side.  They never talk in that way about me, and yet
I've tried to do right all the time."

The angry word this time almost escaped Ward's
lips, but before he could speak Jack quickly replied,
and as Ward looked at Big Smith again he was glad
he had not spoken.  It was evident the big fellow
was in "dead earnest," as the boys phrased it, and
Ward thought he even saw traces of moisture in his
eyes.  Surprise overcame his feeling of resentment,
and he stopped to listen to Jack, who had resumed
his pump-handle gesture.

"The trouble with you, Big Smith, is that you
are a prig.  It isn't that you don't do wrong that
makes the fellows feel toward you as they do.  In
their hearts there isn't a fellow who doesn't respect
the chap who tries to do right, and they wish they
were like him too.  But you're a regular grandmother,
Big Smith.  You've been a big fellow in
your own town, and when you went away to school
you thought you were doing a big thing.  Then you
come up here and the first thing you do you go to
reaching out and patting all the rest of us bad
little boys on our heads.  You rebuke us; you think
we're all on the downward road because we don't
do just what you want us to; and then you expect
everybody to do for you instead of trying to be of
some use to the fellows.  Why, from the time last
Mountain Day, when you left others to carry the
luggage and then when night came took all of Pond's
bedquilt to yourself, every fellow in the school
thought you were for Big Smith first, last, and all
the time."

"But I was cold that night," said Big Smith solemnly.

"And what did you think of Pond?  And whose
bedquilt did you think that was?  Now Pond never
was in any scrape, and yet the fellows all take to
him.  You're never in any scrape, either, but you've
got to do more than that, let me tell you.  You
heard about the man who never said a foolish thing
and never did a wise one, didn't you?  Well, let
me tell you that a fellow has got to have something
more than negative goodness to make him count in
the Weston school."

The boys looked with wonder at Jack as they
heard him speak.  It was all so different from his
usual manner that not one of them could understand
him, and almost in consternation they turned
to see how Big Smith was receiving the lesson.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`JACK'S SERMON`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XIX


.. class:: center medium bold

   JACK'S SERMON

.. vspace:: 2

"I don't just know that I understand what you
mean," said Big Smith slowly.  "Isn't doing right
the same as not doing wrong?  That's what I've been
taught, that a good fellow was one who didn't drink
and swear and steal."

"You've got the cart before the horse, my
distinguished friend," replied Jack.  "A fellow isn't
good because he doesn't do those things, but he
doesn't do them because he is good.  Now I know a
place where there are more than a thousand men
living all together.  They neither drink, swear, nor
steal; they don't even fight.  Not one of them."

"That must be a fine community, Jack," said Big
Smith quickly.

"Well, it isn't.  It's one of the toughest places 'in
all this broad land of ours,' to quote from Ward's
last speech.  Not much.  I don't think you, even
you, Big Smith, would like it there, even with all
the virtues I have mentioned, and they're not half
of them, let me tell you, either.  I could give you a
catalogue more than a yard long, just like them."

"I don't see, Jack.  I think you must be joking.
What's the place?"

"Never was more serious in all my life," replied
Jack lightly.  "Now listen, and I'll give you the
name of the place.  It's the State prison."

Big Smith looked blankly at Jack for a moment,
while all the other boys present burst into a loud
laugh.  It was not so much what Jack had said as
the expression of amazement which spread over Big
Smith's face as he heard the words.

The laughter of the boys continued for several
minutes, and at last Big Smith said slowly: "I never
in all my life before thought of it in that way,
Jack.  Up where I live, when they speak of a good
boy they always mean one who doesn't do anything bad."

"And right they are," said Jack, with a laugh;
"that is, right as far as they go.  The only trouble
is they don't go far enough.  Any old pumpkin
out in the field doesn't do any of these things either,
but they don't call the pumpkin 'good' on that
account, at least as far as I've ever observed.  Did
you ever go to a circus, Big Smith?"

"I never did."

"Well, that's all right; I'm not telling you you
ought to.  All I mean is that if you should happen
to go some time, just to take the children, you know,
of course, you'd probably see a lot of cages there.
And the cages would be full of awful beasts.  Wild
animals, you know.  There'd be the hyena, he's a
very cheerful bird; and there'd be the rhinoceros,
and the elephant, and the tiger, and the mosquito,
and the lion, and all sorts of gr-o-w-ling, savage
beasts of the field," and Jack's voice became low as
if he were trying to imitate the sounds of the
animals he named.  "Now, Big Smith, if you ever were
so naughty as to take the children to see such sights,
you'd feel perfectly safe, because not one of those
monsters was ever known to devour a man, woman,
or even one of the children, for whose sake you
probably had gone.  You see they're held back by
the bars, and they can't do any damage, no matter
how tempting your tender flesh might appear to
be.  But, Big Smith, honestly, you wouldn't feel
any warmer toward the gentle hyena, or the mild
and smiling tiger, would you? or think it any safer
to leave those tender little infants you had gotten
together, and for whose sake alone you had gone
to the circus--I mean just to see the animals, of
course--there in the tent, if the bars were all taken
away, although not one of those animals had ever
done any damage to any man?"

"I--I--don't just see the point," said Big Smith,
somewhat bewildered.  "What do you mean?"

"Alas! alas!" said Jack in mock despair.  "Well,
what I mean is just this.  You don't trust a lion or
a tiger in the menagerie because he hasn't done any
harm.  So you don't always take to a fellow just
because he's never done anything very bad, either.
He may be held back, he may be afraid, he may not
know anything about the bad, and so not do it
because he doesn't know enough to do it.  Now, Ned
Butler, who graduated last year, you know, or Little
Puddle's big brother, why either or both of those
fellows just gripped the whole school, you see.  They
never were in any of the mean things, but there
was something besides that.  They tried not only
not to do wrong, but they also tried to do right.
Every fellow in the school knew that both of those
boys were just doing their level best to do the
square thing every time, as well as keep out of the
mean things.  It wasn't half so much what they
did not do as what they did do that counted, let me
tell you.  They had good, red blood in their veins
every time, and the boys knew and felt it too, but
it seemed just as if they used every ounce of muscle
they had to do something.  They weren't thinking
of the things they didn't do."

"I--I--think I'm beginning to see what you
mean," said Big Smith quietly.

"I'm mighty glad you are able to see the point
once in your life," said Jack good-naturedly.

"You'd better be glad," interrupted Ward, who
sympathized somewhat with Big Smith in his manifest
trouble, "you'd better be glad that you were
able to make the point plain enough to be seen for
once in your life, Jack, as I've told you so many times
lately."

The lad laughed heartily, for he was one of the
few boys who was willing to receive as well as give
the bantering of the school.

Turning again to Big Smith, and noting the
unusual seriousness of his manner he said, in a far
more gentle tone than he had before used, "Honestly,
Big Smith, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.  You
started the thing you know, and asked me what I
thought was the reason you didn't stand better with
the fellows, and I told you just what I thought.  It
was none of my business, and I ought not to have
done it.  Who am I to preach to you?  I'm one
of those who do just exactly the opposite of the
very thing I've been urging on you, for I leave
undone those things which I ought to have done,
and do the things which I ought not to do.  Forgive
me if I've said what I ought not to have said,"
and Jack, in his impulsive way, stretched forth his
hand.

Big Smith took it, but made no reply, and in a few
moments slipped quietly out of the room.

As soon as he was gone Jack began to upbraid
himself for the words he had spoken, and in a
brief time he too departed.  None of the boys ever
knew of the visit he immediately made in Big
Smith's room, nor did they ever hear of the long
conversation between the two boys which followed.

It was soon evident, however, that a change of
some kind was coming over Big Smith.  Many of
his ways were greatly modified, and his devotion
to Jack Hobart became as marked as it was strange.

None of the boys, however, thought very much of
the matter, for Jack was universally popular, and
no one could long retain a grudge against him, and
to that fact was probably attributed the new
departure in the case of Big Smith.

Pond returned to the school on the following
week, and great was the rejoicing among his friends.
The boy had but little money, and while in his
calm, quiet way he never concealed the fact nor
hesitated to give it as a reason for not entering
into many of the projects of his companions, he
never obtruded it nor referred to his poverty as if
he gloried in it.  He was one of the most popular
boys in the Weston school, thoroughly respected and
warmly loved for his genuine manliness.

He had continued his studies during his absence,
and had been able to keep well up with his class,
and as soon as he returned Ward at once perceived
that Pond was determined to retain the laurels he
had won in the preceding year if hard work would
accomplish it.

It soon became manifest that the struggle for the
first place in the class lay between Ward, Pond, and
Berry, but the three boys lost none of their regard
for one another in the contest.

Ward learned more easily than either of the
other two, but he lacked the steady, dogged, even
ways of Pond.  There were occasions when he was
strongly tempted to neglect his work, and indeed
did even neglect it, but not for a long time.  He
had been taught a severe lesson, and with the higher
impulses now in his heart, and the longing to carry
home to his father a report which he was well aware
would give him higher pleasure than anything else
he could do for him, he held himself well to his
work in the main, and was recognized as one of
the leaders in his class.

In the even lines of the school work there came
many pleasant breaks.  On Mountain Day the
summit of the great hill was climbed as it had been in
the preceding year by the most of the boys of the
Weston school, and many of the experiences which
have already been recorded were repeated.

The party of friends, with Little Pond and Big
Smith occasionally added, tramped over the hills in
quest of chestnuts, and never failed to return with
a goodly store.  On the brief half-holidays, until the
snow came, they would take their luncheons and
start forth to explore some of the beauties of the
region in which Weston lay, and the hills would echo
and re-echo with the sounds of healthful boyish
shouts and laughter, the best sounds in all this
world.

Ward Hill was happy.  The past seldom rose
before him now, or if it did come for a moment and
awaken a sharp pang, it was soon put aside as the
consciousness of the efforts he was then making
came to take its place.  And Ward was working
faithfully.  He was doing so much more and so much
better than ever he had done before, that it seemed
to him as if he was working intensely.  He had yet
to learn some of the necessities and possibilities in
that line.

The enmity of Tim Pickard and the "Tangs" still
continued, but for the most part it was expressed
in sneers and attempted slights rather than by any
open manifestations; but Ward felt that he could
endure all that easily now in the knowledge he had
of the regard with which most of the boys looked
up to him since the day of the great game with
the Burrs.  And then too, he had the satisfaction
of knowing that he was not neglecting his work, and
that results were already becoming more and more
plain.

Once, it is true, his room was "stacked" again,
when he had carelessly left the door unlocked, but
he did not care so much for that as he did that
Pond's room was also upset on the same day.  Coming
up the stairs together they discovered two of the
younger boys at work in very midst of the mischief.
They administered a sound "seniorly" spanking, and
made the little fellows confess that Tim Pickard
had told them to do what they were doing.

As soon as the chastening and some good advice
had been given, Pond insisted upon going at once
to Tim's room and "having it out with him" as he
expressed it.  Nothing loth, Ward assented, and the
two boys at once went down to Mrs. Perrins' and
found Tim by chance in his room.

The presence of his visitors evidently confused
the lad at first, but soon assuming a bold manner
he listened to what Pond had to say.

"We've come down here to tell you, Tim, that
you're not to set any more of the little fellows up to
stacking our rooms again."

"I haven't stacked your rooms," said Tim boldly.

"I'm not talking about that," said Pond, speaking
in a quiet manner, frequently deceiving to those
who were not well acquainted with him.  He was
seldom angry, but his very quietness gave the
impression that it would not be wise to push him
unduly.  "I'm not talking about that," repeated
Pond.  "All I said was that you were not to set
any more of the little fellows up to such tricks as
stacking our rooms."

"Have the little imps gone and squealed?  I'll
fix----"

"Now look here, Tim," said Pond, still speaking
quietly, and his manner betrayed no excitement,
"you know me and I know you.  There isn't any
use in dodging this thing.  Ward and I caught the
little fellows right in the act, and we spanked them
till we made them own up.  It wasn't their fault
but ours if they told, and it wasn't their fault that
they were in such petty business, either.  I don't
think they will be in it again."

"What'll you do to stop it?" sneered Tim.  "Go
and tell the doctor, won't you?"

"I'm not making any threats," replied Pond; "all
I'm saying is that this has got to stop.  You can't
afford to do it, Tim, and as for me, it costs me too
much to come up here to have anybody rob me of
what I came for.  I haven't any time to spend in
setting up my room.  I need all the time I can get
to hold my place in the class," and he turned and
smiled slightly at Ward as he spoke.  "Now you
know, Tim, what I've come for, and that's all there
is to it.  I'm after the work, and I haven't a spark
of the nonsense some of the fellows talk about,
putting up with all sorts of tricks, to call them by
no worse names, that any one may feel disposed to
play on them.  That's what I came for, and now
I've said all I have to say.  Good-night, Tim."

Tim did not reply to the salutation as Ward and
Pond turned and went out of the room.

At the door they met Jack, who had just come
down for his supper, and to him Ward related all
that Pond had said and done.

Jack whistled when he had heard all and said,
"That's what you may call bearding the lion in his
den.  Maybe it will work all right and maybe it
won't.  They won't bother you again till after Christmas,
but my opinion is that you'll have to look out then."

"What'll he do?  Why will he wait until after
Christmas?" said Ward.

"Nobody knows what he'll do; it won't be stacking
your room, though, I'm thinking.  I think he won't
dare to stir things up before that time, for he knows
he's on his good behavior himself; but it'll come
somehow, I'm sure, for Tim's fighting mad."

Jack's prophecy, so far as nothing being done
before Christmas, proved to be correct.  Nothing
occurred to disturb the quiet and harmony of the
school.

The little flurries of snow were soon followed by
heavier falls, and the wintry winds began to be heard
throughout the valley.  The crests of the hills were
the first to be covered by the snow, but soon it crept
down the sides and over the meadows, and when at
last the end of the term had come, the snow lay deep
over all the landscape, one of the heaviest falls ever
known in Weston, even the oldest inhabitants declared.

Of Ward's welcome home, of the good time he had,
and the happiness which this time was his, we
cannot write here.

When his report came, Ward found that he was
third in his class.  He knew then that both Pond and
Berry must be in advance of him, and he felt
somewhat disappointed.  The pride and rejoicing of his
father over the improvement, however, were so
great, and as Ward himself was aware that he had
done good work, he did not refer to his own feelings,
but he resolved none the less that he would try to
show both Pond and Berry that in the coming term
if they held their laurels it would be only by the
strongest kind of effort.

The "coming term," however, was to be an unusual
one even in the annals of the Weston school,
but Ward's heart was light, and not a shadow of the
future at this time darkened it.

The vacation at last was ended, and Ward and
Henry departed from Rockford in the midst of a
severe snowstorm.  The storm changed to rain
before they arrived at the end of their journey, and
that night there was a sharp freeze.

In the morning, when they left their room to go to
their breakfast, they found that the crust of the
snow was strong enough to bear their weight, and in
every direction they could see the boys running,
sliding, slipping, falling over the smooth surface, while
all the time shouts and laughter could be heard on
every side.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`DOWN WEST HILL`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XX


.. class:: center medium bold

   DOWN WEST HILL

.. vspace:: 2

"Come on, Henry, let's go over to Jack's room,"
said Ward as they came out of the dining hall together.

The zest of the meeting with the boys was not yet
gone and as they came into the hall or went together
down the steps, the boisterous laughter still continued.

But Ward was not entirely jubilant, and as he
looked about him at his noisy companions, perhaps
he was somewhat suspicious that all were not so
happy as the sounds of their laughter might lead an
inexperienced observer to believe.

The winter term was the long, hard term of the
year.  In the fall, while each boy was aware that a
long stretch of weeks intervened between him and
the joyous Christmas time when he would again be
at home, there were yet the re-unions after the long
vacation, and the formation of new friendships as
well as the renewal of the old ones; there was the
excitement of the outdoor athletic sports, and the
long tramps over the hills and through the valleys,
to say nothing of the Mountain Day, which was one
of the features of school life at Weston.

In the spring, in addition to the fact that the term
itself was a brief one, there was also all the joy
which the returning summer brought, and the
thought of a speedy return home.

But the winter term was long and sometimes
dreary.  Storms swept over the valley, the fierce
winds piled the heavy fall of snow into mountain-like
drifts, and there was not very much to vary the
monotony of the school life.  It was the time when
the hardest work was demanded and done, and the
natural consequence was that as the Weston boys
came thronging back to the school after the Christmas
vacation time more than one of them returned
with hearts that were somewhat heavy within them.

But all the boys had a dread of even the appearance
of homesickness, and by every available method
each sought to create the impression that he at
least was not suffering from that dreaded disease.

Just why this was so, no one could explain.  Surely
no boy had any cause to feel ashamed of his love for
his home and his desire to look again upon the faces
of those whom he loved and those who loved him.
But whatever the explanation, or lack of explanation,
it was still true that many of the boys looked
forward with anything but pleasure to the days of
the winter term, and yet few were willing to
acknowledge their feelings.

Ward Hill was no exception to the general rule at
Weston.  As he came out of the dining hall that
evening and the cold, wintry air struck him full in
the face, he lifted his eyes and looked at the
snow-clad hills which shut in the valley.  The towering
monarchs seemed to be absolutely pitiless and forlorn
in the starlight.  Snow and leafless trees, and
cold and lifeless landscapes seemed to be all about
him and even the laughter of the boys sounded noisy
and unnatural, as if his boisterous companions either
were striving to drown their thoughts by their
protests, or were endeavoring to force themselves into
some kind of a belief that they really were glad to be
back together in school again.

He was sharing in the general depression, and in
addition to his desire to see Jack was the longing to
be cheered, and perhaps compelled to forget the
immediate pressure by the contagious and irresistible
good nature of his friend.

Henry gladly yielded assent and in a few moments
they entered Jack's room and had received his
somewhat noisy welcome.  Berry also was there, and
Pond and his brother came a little later, and in the
presence of such friends Ward's gloomy thoughts
soon vanished.

"And how are all the good people at Rockford?"
said Jack eagerly.  "That's the best town I ever was
in in my life.  I don't see why they need any
churches or preachers there for my part; a fellow
has to make a desperate effort if he wants to do
anything bad there."

Ward smiled at Jack's words as he replied to his
question.  He thought he might be able to explain to
his friend that even Rockford was not free from all
temptations, but Jack soon broke in again.

"If I didn't want Pond here to come to New York
and take charge of the church I attend just as soon
as he's ready to begin to preach, I'd say to him go up
to Rockford.  They are awfully good up there."

"Yes, some of us 'too good to be true,' I'm afraid,"
said Ward quietly.

"You don't suppose I'm going to a place where
I'd have nothing to do but loaf, do you?" protested
Pond.  "No sir!  I'm going to a place where there's
work, and plenty of it too."

Ward glanced quickly at Henry and noticed the
pained expression upon his face at Pond's innocent
reference to the position of a preacher in Rockford.
He was well aware of the almost passionate devotion
with which Henry regarded his father, and indeed
the feeling was somewhat shared by Ward himself
as he pictured to himself even then the saintly
beautiful face of Dr. Boyd.

"I don't know about that, Pond," he said quickly.
"My impression is that Henry's father doesn't think
he's lying in a bed of roses with such a scapegrace
as I am to look after.  I rather think it depends
upon the man almost as much as it does upon the
place he's in whether he works or not."

"That isn't what I mean," said Pond, perceiving
at once that he had said something which might
better have been left unsaid.  "I know there's work
even in Rockford, and there's a worker for the work
too.  I was only speaking for myself, and what I
meant was that the place where there's the most to
be done is the one which appeals most to me."

"Good for you, Pond," said Jack hastily.  "My
church is the place for you.  The men there think if
they give lots of money, and pay a good big salary to
the preacher they've done all that's required of them.
But honestly I'm most afraid the missionary part
was left out of me.  I like a good time.  And
fellows," he hastily added, "I've brought something
back with me just for that very purpose.  I got one
and Tim Pickard's got one too.  He brought his up
on the same train with me."

"What's that you've got?" said Ward, voicing the
immediate interest of all in the room.

"I've the daintiest bob you ever saw.  Come out in
the hall and see it."

The boys followed the eager lad, and there in the
hall stood the long sled which Jack had brought.  It
was shod with slender steel runners, and in its
narrowness appeared to be even longer than it really
was.  It was beautifully upholstered and equipped
with the most approved steering apparatus.

"Isn't she a beauty?" said Jack enthusiastically.
"I wouldn't dare tell you what my father paid for
her.  I just hinted that I wanted the best affair in
all the city, and behold! just before I started for the
train, this bob put in an appearance."

The enthusiasm of the boys was almost equal to
that of the sled's owner, as they noted its good points
and examined it critically.

"We'll have some fun on her," said Jack.  "She's
like an arrow almost.  What is it we sing in chapel,
'Swift as an arrow cleaves the air'?  Well, that's
what this bob can do.  She's a good ten feet in
length, and I think she won't tarry very long on her
way down West Hill, do you?"

"How many will she carry, Jack?" inquired Ward.

"All I can put on her.  I can pack away ten or
twelve, and maybe more.  We'll soon see.  Come up
on West Hill to-morrow afternoon after study hour,
will you, fellows?"

All the boys eagerly accepted the invitation, and
on the following afternoon joined Jack and together
dragged the long, slender bob up West Hill.

West Hill was a long hill with several bends in the
road and a number of very sharp descents, between
which were long stretches where the road ran
downward, but in a gradual incline.  From the place
where the boys at last stopped, to the street on which
the school buildings stood it was at least a mile, and
they were all eager to see in what time the new bob
could carry them that distance.

The pathway was almost like ice, for the cold
weather still continued and the recent sharp freeze
had left a hard coating over all the snow.  When at
last the party of seven boys halted, for both Big and
Little Smith had joined them, they were far above
the valley.  The trees had a coating of frost and
glistened in the afternoon sunlight.  The pathway
was hard and firm and did not yield beneath their
weight.  The air was crisp, but the boys were
clothed to meet that and no one thought of the cold.

"Get ready there!" shouted Jack, as he took his
seat in front on the sled and grasped the little ropes
by which he was to steer.  He braced his feet
against the ice to hold the sled in its position and
waited for the boys to take their positions behind
him.

One after another took his place on the sled,
carefully bracing his feet and grasping the body of the
boy in front of him tightly with both arms.  Ward
was to have the position in the rear and was to give
the push which should start them on their long
journey.

"All ready?" shouted Ward taking his place.

"All ready!  Let her go!" shouted Jack in reply.

Ward began to push, and as the sled began to
move slowly gave it one more hard shove and it had
started.  Then running swiftly behind it he leaped
quickly upon it, braced his feet and tightly grasped
Henry, who was seated next before him.

The sled began to move slowly at first, but in a
moment its speed increased and soon it seemed to the
excited boys as if they were almost flying over the
smooth and slippery surface.  Faster and faster
sped the long sled and the sharp air seemed almost
to cut their faces like a knife.

Down the long descent the sled swept on and soon
came to the first of the sharp falls.  It seemed then
almost to leap from the ground and shoot through
the air, as indeed it did for a number of feet, then
struck the ground and swept onward with an
ever-increasing speed.

Ward thought of Jack's reference to the arrow
cleaving the air, and it seemed as if that was just
what the swift-flying sled was doing.

On and on, swifter and swifter sped the party.
Around one of the bends in the road they passed, and
the boys clung more tightly to one another, for it
seemed at first as if they would be flung from their
places; but Jack was doing nobly as steersman and
held his beloved sled well to its place in the road.
Down another of the sharp descents they passed and
the speed was again increased.  It seemed as if
nothing could move more swiftly than they were sweeping
down the long hillside.  The vision of the fences
by the roadside and of the few scattered farmhouses
and barns was all confused and indistinct so rapidly
did they pass.  Down, down, and ever downward
sped the sled, and the excitement of the breathless
boys increased each moment.

Another of the bends in the road lay before them,
and almost before they were aware of it they were
sweeping around the curve, and before them lay the
last of the sharp falls in the road.

As they turned the bend a loud warning cry burst
from Jack's lips, and as the frightened boys glanced
quickly before them, they had an indistinct vision of
another party of boys coming up the hill dragging a
long bob behind them.  The warning cry was heard
just in time, and the startled boys only succeeded in
swiftly leaping to one side before Jack's sled was
upon them.  It just grazed the edge of the other
sled, and then before any one could utter a word was
yards away down the hillside.  Not one of the boys
spoke, but their faces were white and drawn, and
the peril they had barely escaped caused their hearts
to beat wildly.

Again the sled seemed to leap and shoot through
the air as it came to the last fall, and swift as its
motion had been before, it became even swifter now.
The fences and trees seemed to fly past them.  It
was even difficult to breathe in the cold and rushing
air.  On and on swept the sled with its load, until
at last the long road had been traversed and they
approached the little hill which was near the village.

Up the ascent the sled plunged on its way, then
down the hillside on the farther side, then up again
on its way to the last of the rises in the ground
before they approached the school buildings.

But the upward movement now began to tell even
on the swiftly flying bob and its speed visibly
slackened.  Slowly and still more slowly it moved, and
when at last it had gained the high ground on which
West Hall stood it came to a standstill.

With a heavy sigh the boys leaped off and stood
together facing Jack, who was holding the ropes by
which he had steered, in his hand.

"Whew!" said Jack enthusiastically.  "That's
what I call coasting, fellows!"

"Coasting!" said Ward.  "That isn't any name
for it.  That's flying, that's what it is--just flying.
I feel as if we'd been shot through the air and didn't,
even touch the ground.  I say, Jack, I've got a name
for your bob."

"What is it?"

"'The Arrow.' ,'Swift as an arrow cleaves the
air,' you know.  You can't improve on that name if
you try ten years.  Call her 'The Arrow,' Jack."

"All right," said Jack laughingly in reply.  "'The
Arrow' it is then.  I'll have her all painted up in
colors in a day or two.  Come on, fellows, and we'll try
it again."

The boys turned to follow Jack up West Hill
again; but no one spoke for a time, as the excitement
following the swift ride had not yet disappeared.

Ward was walking by Jack's side assisting in
dragging the sled, and when they were half-way up the
hillside they quickly called to their companions to
"look out," and then swiftly darted to one side of the
road drawing the long sled with them.  Just before
them they could see the other bob coming swiftly on
its way, and as it swept past them they discovered
that Tim Pickard was steering it.  Doubtless it was
his bob, and the party consisted of his boon companions.

"I say, Jack," said Ward soberly, "this is lots of
fun, but it's dangerous too.  You don't suppose Tim
would leave his bob so that we might happen to
strike it on our way down, do you?  It would be all
day with us if he should do such a thing."

"No, I don't believe Tim would do that," replied
Jack lightly, although Ward thought he could see
that his friend was troubled by the suggestion.  "No,
I don't believe Tim would do that," repeated Jack.
"He's got the disposition to upset us, but I don't
believe he'd do it.  He thinks too much of his bob to
run the risk of a collision."

Nothing more was said by either of the boys, and
in a brief time they arrived at the summit of West
Hill and prepared once more for the long ride.

The party was arranged just as it had been in the
preceding ride, and as soon as Ward saw that all the
boys were ready, he began again to push the heavy
load and as the sled started, he ran lightly behind
it and then leaped upon it in his former position.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE ARROW AND THE SWALLOW`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXI


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE ARROW AND THE SWALLOW

.. vspace:: 2

Again the swift descent of the long hill was made,
and then once more the boys climbed back to the
starting point.

Tim Pickard and his friends were passed each
time, but no trouble came, the owner of the other bob
either not caring to disturb them then, or else, as
Jack suggested, he feared the damage which might
come to his own sled from a collision.

When at last the boys returned to their rooms,
they were all enthusiastic over the sport of the
afternoon and were eagerly looking forward to the
following day when the experience might be repeated.

Indeed it was not long before the entire school
seemed to feel the contagion of the sport, and sleds
and improved bobs were to be seen every afternoon
upon the long course of West Hill.  Even the
towns-people came to share in the coasting, and many
strange looking sleds soon made their appearance.

One in particular attracted much attention.  It
was made of two rude low sleds such as the farmers
used to draw their heavy loads of wood in the winter.
It was an immense affair, and frequently fifteen
or twenty young men would be packed together upon
it, and when the rough-looking contrivance made
its appearance it was sure to have every right of
way, as no one cared to stand in its path.

Even the ladies soon joined in the sport and West
Hill presented a gay appearance, covered as it
frequently was by the merry crowds.  Some of the
towns-people had horses to drag the heavy sleds back
up the hill and to enable the ladies to avoid the
trouble of climbing, but the Weston boys did not
consider it much of a task to retrace their steps;
and indeed the pleasure was perhaps increased by
the difficult ascent.

Jack soon had the name which Ward had suggested
painted in bright colors on his bob, and the
fame and the speed of "The Arrow" seemed to
increase daily.

Among the coasting contrivances none seemed to
be equal to it except the bob which Tim Packard
owned and which he had named "The Swallow,"
perhaps from some fancied resemblance between its
swiftness and the flight of that bird.

The school had "gone mad," as Jack phrased it,
over the coasting on West Hill.  The time between
supper and the evening study hour also was given
up to the sport, and instead of soon tiring of it, the
interest and excitement seemed to increase with
every passing day.

But among all the sleds and bobs none appeared
to belong to the class of "The Arrow" and "The
Swallow," and they were soon the acknowledged
leaders of them all.  The events which followed were
perhaps only a natural outcome of that fact and a
trial between the two soon came to be talked of
among the boys.

"Ward," said Jack, one evening about two weeks
after the beginning of the winter term, "Tim wants
to have a race between his bob and mine.  What do
you think of it?"

"I didn't think he'd condescend to race with us,"
replied Ward, almost unconsciously assuming a
partial ownership in "The Arrow."  Jack apparently
did not notice that there was anything of assumption
either in Ward's words or manner, for while
the generous-hearted boy had fully shared the
pleasures of his bob among the boys of the school, his
love for Ward had led to his being a member of
every party formed.  He declared that Ward alone
knew just how to start "The Arrow" aright, and
that much of its success was due to that very fact.
And Ward in his joy had not stopped long to
consider the matter, and soon came almost to regard
the swift-flying bob as a joint possession.

"Condescend?" said Jack.  "It's no condescension
on his part, let me tell you, to have a race with
'The Arrow.'  His old tub isn't to be mentioned
with it."

"That's all right; I wasn't referring to the bobs,
but to Tim's present feelings."

"Well, I fancy Tim did have to swallow hard once
or twice before he could bring himself up to the
point of challenging 'The Arrow.'  But, you see, so
many of the fellows are interested and have talked
so much about the two bobs that Tim probably
couldn't stand it any longer.  So the upshot of it all
is that he wants a race."

"I think we can accommodate him," said Ward.
"When does he want it to come off?"

"Next Saturday afternoon's the time he mentioned.
I suppose we can suit ourselves about that,
though.  When do you think is the best time?"

"Oh, that'll do as well as any.  That is, if the
weather holds good.  How many are to be in each
party?"

"We shall have you and me, of course, and then
there'll be Luscious, and Henry, and Big and Little
Smith, and Puddle and his big brother.  That'll be
eight all together."

"Why do you take the little fellows?"

"Oh, it'll be fun for them," replied Jack.  "Tim'll
carry the same number, eight."

"Yes, but his load will be heavier.  Little Pond
and Little Smith are both so light that they won't
count for very much, I'm afraid."

"Oh well, never mind that.  They'll get some fun
out of it anyhow, and that'll be almost as good as
winning the race.  But I'm not afraid, even if Tim
does have a heavier load.  I guess 'The Arrow' will
cleave the air all right."

The race was soon arranged and at once became
the exciting topic in the school life.  Three days
only intervened and the boys of the rival parties
were not idle.  Daily they went up on West Hill,
and Jack tried several new methods of steering,
while Ward practised the "send-off," upon which
they all relied.

Saturday dawned clear and bright, and the afternoon
promised to be almost ideal for the race.  Long
before the time when it was to occur, the boys of
the school took various positions along the roadside
to watch the race, although many of them preferred
the place in front of West Hall, which was to be the
terminus, and there they could witness the finish
and at once determine which had won.

Ward had suggested that the race should be "on
time," that is, that each bob should go over the
course alone and that the time occupied by each
should be carefully kept, and the merits of the bobs
be determined in that manner.  There would be less
danger by adopting that method, and he could not
disguise the fact, in spite of his excitement, that the
race was fraught with more or less of peril.  The
unanimous protest of all his companions, however,
had served to do away with his suggestion, and he
had said no more.

It was arranged that the course should be gone
over three times and that the bob which won two
of the three races should be declared the victor.

Much time had been spent in polishing the long,
slender steel runners of "The Arrow," and everything
which was likely to add to its speed and safety
was carefully looked to.

At last the appointed time arrived and the eight
boys who were to comprise "The Arrow's" load
started up West Hill, each grasping the long rope
and assisting in drawing the bob after them.

A cheer from their friends followed them as they
started forth from West Hall, and at intervals along
the road they were greeted by the plaudits of the
boys.  It was evident that most of the school desired
them to win, though Tim was not entirely lacking
in supporters.

As they drew near the hilltop, it was seen that the
rival party was already there, and a crowd of boys
stood about "The Swallow" admiring her strength
and speed, and talking over her various good points.

Many of the boys who were there to see the start,
planned to go down the hill after the first race and
be with those who were assembled near West Hall
to witness the finish in the succeeding races.
Mr. Blake was to be the starter, while Mr. Crane was to
be the judge at the end of the course, and they had
left him with the crowd in the village.

The excitement was now at the highest pitch.  Lots
were soon drawn for choice of sides in the road,
and as Jack won he selected the right, although
there was no advantage in that, and the allotment
had been made only to insure perfect fairness for all.
The bobs were soon in position and Ward took his
stand behind "The Arrow" ready to make the start,
while Ripley was waiting to do a similar work for
"The Swallow."

The pathway was all cleared and the boys along
the roadside were to see that the way was kept clear
throughout the course.  Ward could see the eager
faces of those who were assembled at the starting-place
as he glanced about him.  They stood back
from the road, but were leaning forward intent
upon every movement of the rivals.

Jack and Tim had taken their positions in front,
for each was to steer his own sled.  Tim's face
betrayed no feeling, but as he glanced at Ripley,
Ward could see that in spite of his apparent
indifference he felt confident of winning.  Indeed, as he
returned Ward's glance a sneer spread over his
face, which served to rouse his rival still more.
How Ward did wish to win that race!  They must
have it!  And the eager lad determined to give
"The Arrow" such a start as she never before had.

"Are you ready?" called Mr. Blake, his tall, angular
form bending in the excitement which he shared
with the boys.  "When I count three you're to start."

He took his watch from his pocket and then
glanced once more about him to see that all were
ready for the signal to be given.

"One!  Two!  THREE!"

Instantly Ward bent to his task and "The Arrow"
began to move before him.  Harder and harder he
pushed, and as the speed instantly increased he
leaped lightly into his seat and tightly grasped the
body of Big Smith who was seated directly in front
of him.  Unmindful of the frantic cheers of the boys
in the assembly behind him he turned to look at "The
Swallow."  Neither side apparently had gained any
advantage in the start, and now the two bobs were
speeding onward side by side.

The speed increased, but the two sleds still kept
the same relative positions.  On down the hillside
swept the rivals, and soon they were almost flying
through the air.  The cold wind made their eyes
water, but as yet neither Jack nor Tim had for a
moment withdrawn his attention from the task
before him.  Both fully realized the necessity of
constant watchfulness and were resolved that not
an advantage should be lost.

Cheers arose from the boys waiting by the roadside,
but almost before they could be heard they
sounded far away behind them.  Both sleds were well
handled and were doing nobly.

Around the first bend in the road they swept
almost together, and soon the first of the steep
descents was gained.  Almost as if they were not
touching the ground the sleds shot through the air,
but the increasing swiftness apparently was equally
shared by them both.  Side by side the two sleds
swept onward.  The speed increased each moment,
and as yet it was impossible to determine which was
gaining the advantage.  On and on they sped,
"swifter than the wings of the wind."

Around the next curve, then on down the next
fall in the road, then around the next bend.  More
than half of the course had now been covered and
still the sleds sped forward side by side.

Before them lay the last of the steep places, and
as in an instant they seemed to be upon it, Ward
gave a shout as he saw "The Arrow" push slightly
forward in advance of its rival.  The advantage
was very slight but still it was an advantage, for he
was nearly abreast of Tim Pickard, who was seated
in front on "The Swallow" and steering his own
sled, as we know.

Before them now there lay the two little hills.
The issue of the race would be decided by the ability
to withstand the slackening of speed which was
sure to come there.

Up the first little hill both sleds went, and Ward's
shouts redoubled as he saw that "The Arrow" was
forging slightly ahead.  They were just about a sled
length beyond their opponents now, and it seemed to
him that he could almost hear the labored breathing
of Tim Pickard who was just behind him.  The
lighter load was a very decided advantage now,
Ward thought, in climbing the hill, and he blamed
himself for having made any protest against the
younger boys being made members of the party.

As they passed down the little hill "The Swallow"
gained slightly, but as they began the ascent
of the last remaining hill again the lighter weight
of "The Arrow's" load began to tell, and when at
last they gained the summit it was once more a
full length in advance.

They could see West Hall in the distance now,
and as the descent was begun they all knew that
the last stretch of the course was at hand.  The
waiting boys had already obtained a glimpse of
the racers and their shouts in the distance could
be distinctly heard.  Plainer and plainer grew the
sounds, but Ward's heart sank as he glanced behind
him and saw that "The Swallow" was slowly creeping
up on them.  Her heavier load began to tell now
as the descent was fairly entered upon.  Ward felt
as if he must get off and push the bob before him.
What was the trouble?  Why was it that "The
Arrow" seemed to drag on her way?  Slowly and yet
steadily he could see that "The Swallow" was
gaining.  First Tim Pickard came alongside, and then
one after another was directly by his side.  On and
on moved the sleds and soon "The Swallow" was a
little in advance.

The cheers of the waiting assembly redoubled
now that the bobs were in plain view and the end of
the course had been almost gained.

Still "The Swallow" pushed ahead, and when at
last the end had been gained she crossed the line
more than a length in advance of her rival.

Shouts and cheers greeted the outcome of the
first race, even the boys who had not favored "The
Swallow" shouting till they were almost beside
themselves in their excitement.

Ward and his companions rose from their seats,
but they were downcast and disheartened.

"Never mind, Ward," said Jack lightly as they
started again up the hill, "'one swallow doesn't
make a summer,' you know.  They haven't won the
race yet.  It's the best two out of three and we've
a good fighting chance left."

"'The Arrow's' the swifter bob," said Ward
disconsolately.  "There's no doubt at all about that.
They beat us by their heavier load.  We were ahead
up to the top of the hill, but when we started down
then their weight put in its fine work.  We'd have
beaten them easily if we'd carried as many pounds
of weight as they did."

"Never mind that," said Jack quickly, glancing
behind him as he spoke to see whether either of the
younger boys had overheard the words.  "It's an
experience they'll always remember, and it's as
great fun to see them have a good time as it is to
win.  Maybe we'll win this time."

Ward made no reply, nor did he speak again
before they had gained the summit of the hill.  Many
of the boys had left it now to go down to West Hall
to witness the finish of the race.

The sleds were soon in readiness for the second
race, and this time Jack's prophecy proved to be
correct, for "The Arrow" won by three full lengths.

Each had now won once and the third trial would
be the deciding one.  The excitement of the spectators
as well as the boys engaged in the race became
more intense now.  Nearly all had gone from the
summit when for the third time the sleds were
drawn up there.

They were quickly reversed and placed in position,
and then at the word of Mr. Blake started swiftly
down the long course for the third and decisive
trial in the race.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE MISHAP OF THE ARROW`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE MISHAP OF THE ARROW

.. vspace:: 2

In spite of his excitement, Ward Hill was not
unmindful of the danger which attended the race.
While the long road was kept clear of vehicles and
passing teams by the boys who were stationed at
intervals along the course, yet the speed with which
the bobs swept over the smooth surface was terrific,
and any little mistake on the part of either
Jack or Tim was likely to prove very serious in its
consequences.

He knew that both the boys were skillful, and
their control of the sleds had been superb up to this
time, and that there apparently was no cause for
the fear which somehow came upon him when they
started on the third and last descent of West Hill.

In a moment, however, all his attention was
absorbed by the excitement of the race.  While not
so many of the boys had been on the summit when
they started this time as had been there when the
other two starts had been made, their feelings were
more intense, and what they lacked in numbers they
more than made up by their shouts.  Each bob had
now won a race, and the third trial would determine
which should be the acknowledged champion of the
school.

It almost seemed as if the sleds themselves shared
in the feelings of the boys.  The road was in prime
condition, and apparently there was nothing to
prevent a full test of the speed of each sled.

At any rate, it seemed to Ward, as he clung tightly
to the body of the boy in front of him, as if the
speed had very materially increased.  And yet almost
side by side the two bobs sped on down the hillside.

Far away rose the shouts of the waiting boys as
soon as they obtained a glimpse of the oncoming
sleds; but almost before the sounds could be heard
the bobs swept on and passed the scattered groups,
and then again the shouts and cheers from below
would be heard.  No one on either sled spoke, however,
for their feelings were too strong for utterance.

Two of the bends of the road had been passed,
and twice had both sleds shot through the air as they
came to the sharp descents in the road, and while
the speed of each had instantly been increased, as
yet neither had gained any perceptible advantage
over the other.

As they approached the third bend, however,
Ward could see that "The Arrow" was slightly in
advance.

Tim Pickard, who was steering "The Swallow,"
was now just abreast of Little Smith, who was
seated in the center of the load which Jack's bob was
carrying.  The advantage, however, was too slight
to be a source of much comfort to the anxious boys,
and the slightest mistake on Jack's part might
forfeit it all in a moment.

Ward looked ahead of him and could see three
boys standing directly in the pathway.  They were
all waving their arms and shouting together, but
Ward thought nothing of their appearance, and was
satisfied that they would do as all the others had
done when the racers came nearer, and step aside
to give them a free course down the hill.

A shout arose from "The Arrow's" load as the
boys still retained their places in the road, and as
the bobs swept swiftly forward, the three still kept
their places till the racers were almost upon them.
They were shouting and waving their arms all the
time, but no one thought of that, and as they darted
quickly to the side of the road, the sleds came
almost upon them.

"Look out, look out!" suddenly Ward shouted as
he glanced at the other sled for it seemed to him
that Tim had changed his course and was steering
directly into "The Arrow."

"Look out, look out!" he screamed again frantically
as he saw that Tim evidently was trying to
drive them off from the course.  If one or the other
did not instantly change there was sure to be a
collision.

All the boys on "The Arrow" looked up at Ward's
shout of warning, and Jack glanced backward as he
heard the call.

"Look out! look out, Tim!" he screamed in his
excitement, but the course of "The Arrow" instantly
was changed.

Just how it all occurred Ward never knew;
whether Jack had for a moment lost control of the
sled as he looked backward, or the forward runners
of "The Swallow" actually struck the bob he never
could tell.

There was for a moment a dull grating sound,
as if "The Arrow" had grated on bare ground, and
all the boys on it were thrown slightly forward by
the sudden checking of the speed.

However, it instantly became apparent that Jack
had lost control of the bob.  The swift-flying sled
left the road, started directly down the bank, and
before them, only a few rods away, was a low,
rambling stone wall which still appeared above the
crust of the snow.  There was a shout of alarm
from the watching boys by the roadside, a feeling
of utter despair in Ward's heart as he perceived
there was to be a crash of some kind.  But before
he or any of the boys could voice their alarm, or
roll from the sled which was plunging ahead with
no apparent slackening in its speed, there was a
sudden shock, and the sled struck the wall, and in a
moment Ward felt himself shooting through the air
over the heads of his companions.

He was only partially aware of the force with
which he struck the hard, smooth crust at last and
slid far ahead over its surface.  He tried desperately
to check his speed, but all of his efforts were
without avail, till at last he came sharply against the
stone wall which bordered the narrow field on its
farther side.

Even then he felt dull and stunned, and for a
moment could not move.  Just where he was or how
he came to be there was not at first apparent to him.

In a brief time, however, he was aware of the
shouts and cries behind him and then staggered to
his feet.  His face and hands were bleeding and his
clothing was torn in many places.  But all that was
instantly forgotten as he perceived from the actions
of the boys, who had quickly gathered at the place
where the accident had occurred, that something
was wrong there.  Stumbling, staggering forward,
he made his way back, though it seemed to him
that every bone in his body was aching and every
step gave him pain.

At last he reached the crowd, and as he
approached, one of the boys noticing his appearance,
turned to him and said quickly, "Are you hurt,
Ward?"

"No, I think not," though even while he was
speaking he was conscious of the wounds on his
face and hands.  "No, I think not much," he
repeated; "but some of the boys here are, I fear," he
hastily added.

Before him stretched upon the snow lay the bodies
of Henry, Big Smith, and Jack.  The others of the
party were standing about as if they were almost
as dazed as he, and certainly their appearance was
as bad as his own.  Some had bleeding noses, some
showed great bruises on their faces, and all had
their clothing more or less torn by the accident.

"What is it?  What is it?" he said hastily, as he
pushed his way into the group and approached the
three boys who lay stretched upon the snow.
Beneath them some of the boys had placed their
overcoats, while others had rolled theirs into rude
pillows and placed them underneath the heads of the
injured boys.

"Are they killed?" he added in a low voice as be
gazed at them.

"No, they're not dead," said one in the group;
"but Jack's got it the worst of all.  He must have
fallen under the bob, for his little finger had been
almost cut off.  The runners must have gone over
it.  We've tied his hand up with handkerchiefs as
best we could.  I don't think the other fellows are
anything more than stunned.  Here comes Mr. Blake,"
he added, as the tall teacher came running
toward them.

But Mr. Blake was not able to do anything more
than the boys had done, and the confusion increased.

"Send for a doctor!" "Take them down on the
sleds!" "Take the pillows out from under their
heads!" "Rub them with snow!" were among the
expressions now heard on every side, but no one
seemed to be able to take the lead and the confusion
increased.

"Here comes Mr. Crane!" shouted one of the
boys, and in a moment the teacher approached the
group.  Tim's sled had gone on down the hill, and
when it arrived at the end of the course, great was
the astonishment of the assembled boys that it
should be alone.

In response to the many questions Tim disclaimed
all knowledge of what had become of "The Arrow,"
simply declaring that he thought there had been an
accident of some kind, but that he did not know just
what it was.

Mr. Crane had not waited to hear more, and had
instantly pressed into service one of the horses and
sleighs which had been halted near the place so that
the racers might have a free course, and had started
up West Hill.

As he obtained a glimpse of the crowd which soon
had assembled near the place of the accident, he
had needed nothing more to inform him that
something of a serious nature had occurred, and leaping
lightly out, he left the horse in charge of one of the
boys and ran swiftly to the crowd.

The boys at once made way for him, and just as
he bent over the boys Big Smith opened his eyes
and stared wildly about him.  Soon Henry too
regained consciousness, and Mr. Crane at once
proceeded to make an examination.  Big Smith was
declared to be all right, but with Henry it was
impossible to determine whether his left arm had
been broken or not.  The slightly movement of it
caused him intense pain, and Mr. Crane said:

"We'll have to leave that for a surgeon to determine.
We'll now look at this poor boy," and turning
to Jack he began to make a further investigation.

Jack was still unconscious, and soon it was decided
to carry him back in the sleigh in which Mr. Crane
had come.  Ward pleaded that he might assist,
but one look at him led the teacher to say, "You look
as if you needed help yourself, Hill.  No, I'll let
one of the other boys assist me.  Here's another
sleigh," he added, as he saw that others had driven
to the place.  "Doubtless Boyd and Smith can be
taken back in that."

The arrangements were soon completed and the
three boys were carried back to the school.  To the
offer to carry him and the other remaining boys on
the sleds, Ward said: "No, sir, I don't want any
more of that at present.  I can't speak for the
others; but for myself I'd rather crawl back on my
hands and knees.  Look at 'The Arrow' too, will
you?" he added.  "I guess her racing days are done."

"The Arrow" was indeed in apparently a worse
plight than that of any of the boys.  The collision
with the stone wall had torn it apart.  One runner
was broken loose and the seat lay several feet away
from the body of the sled.

It was only about a half-mile back to the school
buildings, and in the midst of the constantly
increasing crowd of boys who looked upon their injured
companions much as if they were heroes, the racers
returned.  It was a procession in striking contrast
with that which had started out.

Just how they made the journey Ward never
knew.  He felt sore throughout the whole extent
of his body, and every step caused him suffering,
but somehow it was at last accomplished, and when
he went up to his room, Henry was already in bed
and one of the other boys, who roomed in West Hall,
was there.

"How are you, Henry?  Are you hurt much?"
inquired Ward hastily.

"No, I think not.  It's my arm that's the worst.
It may be broken.  The doctor is coming soon.  But
how are you, Ward?  You look all torn into pieces."

"Oh, I'm all right," replied Ward hastily.  "I got
a few scratches and bumps, but some hot water and
arnica will soon fix me all right."

And he proceeded immediately to carry out his
own directions.  But his heart was heavy when he
thought of Jack and he could not entirely check the
tears that rose in his eyes.  Sore and bruised as he
was he decided to go at once over to East Hall and
learn how his friend was.

What a good fellow Jack was, thought Ward.  He
would share anything he had with any or all who
called upon him.  And Tim Pickard!  His heart grew
bitter and hard when he thought of Tim's dastardly
trick.  He had been the one to blame for the accident,
for doubtless his threatened collision had been
the cause of "The Arrow's" leaving the road, and the
dire events which had followed.

Ward was a long time washing his wounds and
bruises, and by the time he was ready to go over
to East Hall, Doctor Leslie, the Weston physician,
entered the room with the principal of the school.

He at once began to make an examination of
Henry and in a few minutes declared, "There are no
broken bones.  The left arm has had a bad sprain,
and he'll have to carry it in a sling for a while, but
I'm confident that otherwise he's not seriously
injured and will be around again in a few days."

"Do you think he had better go home?" inquired
Doctor Gray anxiously.

"That remains to be seen," replied the physician;
"but I hardly think it will be necessary."

"You'd better look at Ward," said Henry, his face
beaming in spite of the pain he was suffering, at the
doctor's verdict.  "He's been hurt too."

"Only a few bruises and scratches," said Ward
hastily.  "But, doctor, have you seen Jack?"

Doctor Leslie's face clouded as he said: "Yes, I
have just come from his room."

"How is he?  How is he?" said Ward eagerly.
"Is he badly hurt?  I want to go over there right
away."

"You can't see him, if you do go," said the physician
quietly.  "I've left orders with Mr. Crane for
no one to be admitted into his room.  He's to keep
the boys in the hall quiet too, and I've telegraphed
for his mother."

"Telegraphed for his mother?" said Ward aghast.
"Is it as bad as that?  Oh, doctor, is he going to
die?"

"I trust not, but he is seriously injured.  I've been
compelled to amputate one of his fingers."

Ward was almost overcome by the kind-hearted
physician's words and for a moment he could not
speak.

"I think, Hill," said Doctor Gray sympathetically,
"that you had better be in bed yourself.  Doctor
Leslie, isn't there something you can do for him?"

Doctor Leslie left a few directions and then
departed with the principal to visit the other boys
who had been on the unfortunate "Arrow."  Much
against Ward's will he was ordered to remain in his
room that night and have his supper brought to him.

The following morning, although he felt stiff
and sore, he resolutely went down to the dining hall
for his breakfast.  Henry was in fairly good spirits
also, but he was not to leave his room that day.  The
reports of Jack were not very encouraging and a
gloom rested over all the school when the boys
assembled in the chapel.  The accident of the
preceding day was the one topic of conversation and
the subdued manners of all the boys showed how
deeply they had been touched.

At the close of the service Doctor Gray said:
"It is not necessary for me to refer to the
distressing accident which occurred yesterday.  We all may
rejoice that its effects were no worse, bad as they
were.  In view of the results, which might easily
have been fatal, you will all readily understand
why it is that from this time forward the use of
so-called 'bobs' is strictly prohibited, and no
coasting will be allowed except by special permission of
the house teachers.  I bespeak your sympathy for
those who are confined to their rooms and trust you
will do all in your power to aid those who are caring
for them.  You may now pass to your class-rooms."

As the boys filed out of the chapel, many were
the words of sympathy heard for Jack Hobart.  The
popular light-hearted boy would have rejoiced could
he have heard the many expressions of interest and
good-will, but at that time he cared for none of
those things.  Rolling and tossing upon his bed in
his room in East Hall, he uttered no sounds except
an occasional moan, and even the presence of his
mother, who had arrived that morning, passed
unrecognized by the suffering boy.

Ward was passing to the Latin room and glanced
up at the windows in Jack's room.  How he did long
to go there and do something to aid his friend!
Never before he thought had Jack seemed so dear
to him.  What would life in the Weston school be
without him?  He almost groaned aloud at the
suggestion.

He was in a measure recalled from his sadness by
Little Pond who rushed up to him and said: "Ward,
I just heard something."

"What is it?" said Ward, only slightly heeding the
boy's eager words.

"I heard that some ashes had been sprinkled on
the road where the accident occurred."

"What?" said Ward, interested in a moment.

He stopped and for several minutes conversed
with his little friend and when he turned to enter
the class-room, there was an expression upon his
face which had never been seen there before.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`THE INVESTIGATION`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIII


.. class:: center medium bold

   THE INVESTIGATION

.. vspace:: 2

As soon as the recitations were finished that morning,
Ward sought out Little Pond and as they walked
together to the dining hall, he said:

"What did you mean by what you said about ashes
having been sprinkled on the hill yesterday?"

"Brown told me," replied Little Pond.  "Brown
said he overheard Tim and Ripley talking together
this morning before chapel.  He wasn't trying to
listen you know, but they take their meals at the same
place, and as they came out of the house he heard
Ripley say something about ashes and then Tim say
'Yes,' and that 'somebody must go up there right
away.'  Then they suddenly stopped short as they
looked behind them and saw Brown so near them.
Brown said they looked guilty too, and as they knew
he was a good friend to Jack, they probably were
afraid he had overheard them."

"What did Brown do then?"

"Oh, he said that it flashed into his mind in an
instant just what they'd been up to.  He thinks that
Tim had arranged with these fellows who stuck to
the road yesterday, you remember, there by the last
of those steep places till we were almost on them.
Brown believes that they had sprinkled ashes over
the path, or rather over one of the paths, and that
they held their places as they did to drive 'The
Arrow' right on to it.  Then he thinks too that Tim
steered in toward us a bit so as to drive us farther
and make sure that we'd be held back."

"The rascal," muttered Ward angrily.

"You don't really think Tim Pickard intended to
force us out of the road, do you, Ward?" inquired
Little Pond.  "I think all he wanted--that is, if
Brown's right--was to send us on to the ashes, so
that we'd be held back and he'd get a chance to gain
enough to let him keep the lead on the way down the
hill.  I can't believe he'd do anything so bad as to
drive us into the wall."

"Oh, Tim Pickard's all gentleness!  He wouldn't
harm any one!  He'd never take a fellow out in a
baby carriage and jostle him around over the rough
ground, not he!  He wouldn't stack a room.  He
wouldn't do anything that isn't just the proper thing
to do!  Oh no, Tim Pickard's too good for this world,
I mean, of course, the Weston world, you know.  For
my part, I wish he was taken out of it too.  Weston
would be a very decent sort of a place without him."

Ward spoke bitterly for his heart was hot against
Tim Pickard and the "Tangs."  Not that he believed
that even Tim would deliberately plan to run the
boys into such danger as the load "The Arrow"
carried had incurred, but he was well aware of his
bitter feeling against him, and to an extent against
Jack as well, and also of his desire for "The Swallow"
to win the race, and that he would stop at nothing
to carry his point.

However, he said nothing more to Little Pond, but
as soon as he had finished his dinner, he hastened
over to East Hall and had a long conversation with
Brown, the result of which was that Brown and Baxter,
another of the East Hall boys, soon after dinner
started up West Hill to make some investigations
near the place where the accident had occurred.

Doctor Leslie came out into the hall as Ward
departed and the troubled lad delayed for a moment to
learn of Jack's condition.

"He's better, decidedly better," said the
kind-hearted physician.  "I think he's going to pull
through all right if we have no setbacks.  It was a
great shaking up you boys had."

"It certainly was for Jack and Henry," replied
Ward.  "The rest of us got a few bruises and
scratches, but we don't mind such little things."

"Well, I understand that a physician's services are
not likely to be required in any similar cases very
soon.  I hear the principal has forbidden the use of
bobs any more."

"Yes, but our sled's all broken up, so we couldn't
use it if we wanted to."

"And that makes Doctor Gray's prohibition more
easily borne, does it?" said Doctor Leslie with a
smile.

Ward made no response as he started toward West
Hall.  On his way Mr. Blake overtook him and as
they walked on together, the teacher said: "Well,
Hill, I hear that Hobart is likely to be about again
soon.  That was a very careless piece of work."

"Careless?  I don't understand what you mean,"
replied Ward angrily.

"Why, Timothy Pickard tells me that you were
trying to cut across his path and get ahead of him
in the race.  That was hardly fair I think, and it
ended just as all tricks are sure to end.  I'm sure
honesty is the best policy, even in a race between
bobs."

"Did Pickard tell you that?"

"Yes; I had quite an extended conversation with
him this morning.  Timothy has improved greatly
since he returned to school this year, as you know,
Hill.  I confess I was somewhat dubious as to the
advisability of receiving him back into the school,
but Doctor Gray plainly understood him better than
any of us did.  There is a certain frankness about
Timothy Pickard that I now greatly admire.  He has
had many conversations with me this year, and I
am beginning to feel proud of him.  There must be
something about the Weston air which is highly
conducive to manliness.  And, Hill, while I am speaking,
let me say that I should rejoice greatly if you
too were disposed to manifest a little more friendly
disposition toward your teachers.  You must bear
in mind that we are here for the sole purpose of
aiding you, and yet you apparently are not eager to
receive it."

If Ward had not been so angry, he would have felt
inclined to laugh.  It was a new departure for
Mr. Blake to assume the role of a helper among the boys.
Indeed, at times Ward had felt so keenly the
impositions of the boys upon him that he had been many
times tempted to take his part.  The tall, awkward,
ungainly teacher had never been a favorite with any
of them.  Of his scholarship no one had any doubt,
but apparently he was lacking in the appreciation of
boy nature, and even then Ward recalled the many
pranks which the various classes had played upon
him.  Even Doctor Gray's words in the preceding
year, when he had almost begged of Ward and Henry
to exert their influence to see that Mr. Blake's
pathway was not made so rough, came back to him now.

And here was Mr. Blake posing as a friend.  Ward
knew that in his heart the teacher desired to be
popular in the school, but his desire had been so
apparent as to cheapen his very efforts in that direction.

As for himself, Ward had never felt drawn to him
and in his heart he did not respect him.  He had
done his work in his classes, but never had he felt
the slightest inclination to go to him as he had done
so many times to Mr. Crane.

And yet now he recalled the fact that he had heard
and even noticed that Tim was disposed to be very
friendly with the awkward teacher of mathematics.
Just what he had in mind by such a course of action,
Ward could not determine, but he was satisfied that
Tim, to whom at the present time he was not disposed
to impute any worthy act or motive, must have
some deep-laid plans in mind.

Ward's silence was not understood by Mr. Blake,
and as they entered West Hall, the teacher said: "I
am glad to see that you have been impressed by what
I have said, Hill.  You have shown an inclination to
do better in your studies this term than you did last,
but I trust you will also conform to the spirit as well
as to the letter of the Weston rules and life."

Ward said "Thank you" somewhat gruffly, and
then hastened up the stairway to his room.  Henry
was there when he entered, and he at once related to
him the outcome of his conversation with Brown,
and also told him of the expedition of Brown and
Baxter to West Hill.

As he went on to relate the conversation with
Mr. Blake, even the staid and sober Henry could not
repress the smile which came at the thought of the new
air which the teacher had assumed, and with Ward
he agreed that Tim must have some deeper motive in
his mind than was now apparent in cultivating the
friendship of Mr. Blake.

It had been decided that Henry was not to go
home.  While his arm pained him intensely, and he
would be compelled to carry it for some time in a
sling, the expense of a journey home and the loss of
lessons combined to render his stay in the school
desirable, and all that afternoon Ward studied steadily
with him in getting out their work for the following
day.

After supper that night Brown and Baxter came
over to Ward's room to report the result of their
investigations at West Hill.  It became evident at once
by the expression upon their faces that they had
something of interest to relate, and after closing and
locking the door to prevent interruptions, Ward
turned to them and said: "Well, let's have it,
fellows.  What did you find on the hill?"

"We had a funny kind of an experience," said
Brown.  "We got permission from Mr. Crane to be
excused for a part of the study hour, so we started
out right after dinner.  We didn't want any of the
fellows to see us, so we didn't go together till we got
down by the bridge.  We met there as we agreed
upon and then started up the hill.  Well, sir, whom
do you suppose we saw when we got most up to the
place where the accident occurred?"

"I don't know," said Ward.  "Maybe it was Tim
Packard."

"No, Tim wouldn't be there, you can rest your soul
on that.  He never gets his fingers scorched as long
as there's some one else to be had to pull his
chestnuts out of the fire for him.  It was Ripley."

"Was he alone?" inquired Ward eagerly.

"We couldn't see any one else, though we both
suspected some one might not be very far away, didn't
we, Baxter?"

"Go on, go on," said Ward.  "What was Ripley
doing there?"

"Well, when we first saw him he was right in the
road.  Before I knew it, Baxter had called out to
him and you never in your life saw a fellow so scared
as Ripley seemed to be.  He looked up, for he was on
his knees there in the road right where 'The Arrow'
left it, you see, and when he saw us coming he just
jumped over the fence and made a bee line across
lots for home.  Oh, it was great fun, let me tell you.
We called and called to him, but every time we
shouted he just let out another length and the way he
slipped over the crust then was a caution.  I don't
believe 'The Arrow' could have stood a ghost of a
show with him.  He never once stopped or looked
behind him, and it wasn't but a few minutes before
he was away down the hill, and pretty soon we could
see him in the valley.  But even then he never
stopped to look back.  My opinion is that he hasn't
stopped yet.  From the way he was going he made me
think of the wandering Jew and that he never would
stop anywhere, only I don't believe the wandering
Jew ever could make such time as Ripley did.  He
was in dead earnest too, let me tell you."

"Well, what then?" said Henry.  "You didn't follow him?"

"No; after we recovered from our astonishment,
for we'd never seen Ripley in a hurry before, you see,
we put straight on up the hill.  Pretty quickly we
came to the place where the accident happened and
then we began to make our investigations.  We
didn't have any trouble in finding the place, for the
crust was all broken in and the holes that Big Smith
made where he placed his tiny 'footies' remain even
unto this day.  My impression is that they'll find
some hollows in the ground up there too in the spring
when the snow is gone.  'Every time his foot comes
down, the heel of his shoe makes a hole in the
ground,' you know."

"Oh, bother Big Smith's heels!" said Ward quickly.
"He isn't here to defend himself, and it isn't fair to
go for a fellow behind his back.  What we want is
your story."

"That's what I'm giving you.  Well, we went right
at the road next, to see if we could find any of those
ashes we'd heard so much about."

"You didn't have any difficulty in finding what you
were after, did you?" said Ward.

"Difficulty?  Well, I should say we did.  We
searched up the road and then searched down the
road, but not an ash could we find, sir, not even a
little piece of one."

"Well, what was Ripley doing up there then?
What made him run when you came?"

"That's the very question we put to ourselves, my
patient little lad, but the question was a good deal
more easily asked than answered, let me tell you.
If it hadn't been for my friend Baxter here we'd
never have had it solved for us at all.  But, you see,
Baxter's a descendant of the great Baxter, and he
knows a thing or two."

"Who was the great Baxter?" said Henry solemnly.
"I never heard of him."

"Oh, he wrote a book, or took a rest, or did
something, I don't know just what.  But this Baxter took
no rest.  He made a great discovery.  Just when I
was about to declare the expedition a failure and
was going to organize a retreat *à la* Xenophon, my
sweet-spirited friend dropped upon his knees.  I was
somewhat astonished, you may believe, to behold
my comrade in that attitude, and was about to make
a few simple inquiries as to the purpose in view, for
I heartily approved of his conduct, I have no need of
assuring you.  But let Baxter tell his own story.
He'll do it justice, a good deal better than I can with
my poor stammering tongue, you see."

"Baxter, will you tell us what you did?" said
Ward.  "The trip must have turned Brown's head."

"Why, all there was of it, I saw that some of the
snow had been dug out from the bank and it seemed
to me it had been thrown on the road," said Baxter.
"It was trodden down, but it showed that some one
had stamped on it.  Of course that made me
suspicious and I just got down on my knees and began to
dig with my hands.  I didn't have to go very far
before I found what we were after.  Ashes had been
scattered in the path, and then some one had gone
up and covered it all over with snow, and had tried
to pack it down so that it wouldn't show."

"And that was what Ripley was doing?"

"Precisely.  Precisely," said Brown.  "Your massive
brain has solved the riddle."

"The rascals," said Henry angrily.  "Where do
you suppose they got the ashes?"

"Probably Timothy Pickard, Esquire, looked well
to that," said Brown; "and he had planned to fix you
fellows on your third trip down."

"But if we'd struck the ashes fairly, it might have
sent us flying in every direction, at the speed we
were going," said Henry.  "It was a dangerous as
well as a cowardly trick."

"Precisely so," responded Brown; "but you were
saved from flying all abroad by the sled taking only
one direction, and somehow you boys seemed to be
inclined to follow it too."

"I think it ought to be reported to Doctor Gray,"
said Henry indignantly.  "I'm no tell-tale, but such
a thing as that might almost have been murder."

"And how will you prove that Tim did it?  Or that
any one did it, for the matter of that?  As for Tim,
he didn't do it, you don't need to be told that, I'm
thinking," said Brown.

"And then there's Jack," said Ward.  "He's suffered
the most, but I don't think he'd want the thing
reported.  I don't believe we'd better do anything
before he is well enough to hear all about it.
Doctor Leslie thinks he'll get along all right now."

"All except his little finger," said Brown.  "But I
think Ward's right.  We don't want to report it
before Jack knows all about it.  We can keep our eyes
open though, and may be we'll find out who did it.
Somebody's rapping, Ward."

"I know it," replied Ward.  "Let him keep on,
we don't want him in here, whoever he is."

Nevertheless he went to the door, but he almost
stumbled backward when he opened it, and beheld
Tim Pickard and Ripley standing before him.

He was too astonished to speak, but the new-comers
did not wait for an invitation to enter the room,
for they at once came in, and Ward not knowing
what to make of the visit and the visitors, quietly
closed the door and again locked it.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`UNEXPECTED VISITORS`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXIV


.. class:: center medium bold

   UNEXPECTED VISITORS

.. vspace:: 2

For a few moments no one in the room spoke, and
as the boys glanced at one another the embarrassment
under which they were laboring seemed to increase.
What could have induced Tim and Ripley to
visit him, Ward could not conceive.  The intensity
with which he disliked both increased even as he
looked steadily at them and waited for them to
speak; for Ward had quickly decided that they must
declare their errand without any questioning on his
part.

What an evil face Tim had, Ward thought.  And
yet his own face flushed slightly at the recollection
that only a few months before this time he and Tim
had stood much in the same position, had engaged
in the same pranks, and had reaped the same
result at the end of the year.  But Tim apparently had
sunk even lower, and while Ward was fully conscious
of his own failures and falls, yet there was a
little feeling of rejoicing that he certainly was now
trying to do better.  And his own heart rebelled
against Tim and all his ways.  Surely there was a
wide difference between them now, for while they
might have started from almost the same plane both
had been moving steadily onward, but drifting apart,
with the consequence that there was now a distance
between them greater than either could conceive.

And too, in that moment of awkward silence,
Ward thought of how their positions had changed
since the beginning of the present school year.  Then
Tim had seemed to be a leading force in the school.
The boys, even those whose hearts were repelled by
him, still outwardly acknowledged his position, and
his word had been law with them in many ways.
His wealth, his fine physique, his ability as a
baseball player and a general athlete, had all their
weight, as Ward himself was fully aware.  And
indeed, had he not himself felt the influence of all
these things in the previous year, and been among
those whom Tim had easily induced to follow him
in his evil ways?

Now, however, it was clearly evident to Ward that
to a large extent Tim had lost in influence in the
school, while he himself had risen in the estimation
of his fellows.  What had wrought the change?
Was it the winning of the game from the Burrs?
Doubtless that had not been without its influence, but
it was something more than that, and although Ward
Hill could not find a name for the cause of the
change, and perhaps was not fully aware of the
change itself, it was still due far more to something
within him than to anything he had done which could
be seen by his fellows.

The struggle had been a difficult one, and what the
sensitive, highly-strung lad had suffered no one but
himself could know.  And perhaps the battle was
not entirely won even now, nor would it ever be
until life itself should be ended, for no matter how
high a person may rise there still lies the unattained
before him.  The successful merchant is not willing
to rest on the laurels won; the statesman finds
difficulties confronting him even when he has gained the
coveted position, and even the schoolboy is not satisfied
with the victories he has achieved, but is looking
out upon fields all untrodden by him.  And all this
is because life is at work.  When a man ceases to
struggle he ceases to live.  Dead men are never
hungry.  They rest from their labors, but the
living rest for their labors.

The main difference between Ward Hill and Tim
Pickard lay not in the positions they then occupied,
widely apart as these at the time seemed to be, but
rather in the direction in which each boy was
moving.  Tim was slipping and drifting, and his
direction was downward.  Ward was struggling and
striving, falling too many times in spite of all his
endeavors, but the direction in which he was moving
was after all steadily upward.  If their relative
positions were so far apart now, what would they be
at the end of the journey?

Not all of these thoughts had come to Ward in the
awkward silence which had followed the unexpected
entrance of Tim and Ripley, but a dim suggestion of
some of them had made itself felt in the heart of the
puzzled lad.

In a moment, however, all his better impulses were
swept away as he thought of the troubles Tim had
brought upon them.  The "stacking" of his room,
and all the petty annoyances he had suffered at his
hands in the earlier part of the year were as nothing
now in contrast with the condition of Jack and
Henry, and even his own body was not without its
witnesses in the shape of bruises and sores.

When he thought of Jack, Ward's anger quickly
returned, and a harsh and bitter taunt arose almost
upon his lips, but by a great effort he restrained
himself.  After all, who was he to taunt Tim with his
shortcomings?  Possibly Tim might not be entirely
without flings to give him in return.  No, silence
was the better part now, and he need not stoop
because Tim had fallen so low.

Tim was the first to speak.  Assuming an air of
indifference and bravado, and looking boldly about
the room he said "Well, we might as well have it out
at the beginning as at any time, I suppose.  We've
come over to see what you intend to do about it."

"Do about what, Tim?" said Ward.  "Of what
are you talking?"

Tim laughed noisily, as he replied.  "That'll do to
tell the doctor, but it won't go here.  You know as
well as I do what we've come over here for."

"You'll have to explain yourself," said Ward coldly.

"All right then, if you must have it; it's the
accident.  We came over to see about it.  You might as
well speak it right out now as any time, and it may
save a heap of trouble."

"I suppose by 'the accident' you mean the ashes
you had sprinkled on the road on West Hill, and your
trying to crowd 'The Arrow' upon them," said Ward.

"Now look here, fellows," said Tim with an air of
assumed indifference, "it's all very well for you to
talk about my steering into you.  No one can ever
say that I did that purposely.  You can't hold two
bobs going as swiftly as ours were right to a chalk
line.  It's simply impossible.  You happened to have
the lower side, that's all there was about it, anyway,
and when 'The Swallow' veered a little from her
course, why you thought we were coming straight for
you.  But even then you didn't have to leave the
track, and you wouldn't have done it, only Speck lost
his head.  He looked behind him and, like Lot's
wife, he had to suffer the consequences of his own
mistake, and that's all there was to it."

As none of the boys made any reply, Tim hastily
continued.  "And it's all true what I was saying
about it's not being necessary for you to leave the
track, even if we had gone out of our course a bit.
We know it's so, because some of us have been up
and examined the place again."

"Is that what Ripley was running down the hill so
for?" inquired Brown quietly.

Ripley's face flushed as he said quickly: "I wasn't
running away.  If any of you fellows think you can
go down West Hill across lots at a walk when the
crust is as hard and slippery as it is now, why just
try it, that's all I've got to say, and you'll sing a
different tune.  I couldn't stop and I couldn't turn
around.  I wasn't running away.  What was there
to run from, I'd like to know?"

"I'll tell you what you were running from,
Ripley, if you want to know," said Brown.

"What was it?"

"Ashes."

Ripley's face could not entirely conceal his alarm
as he heard Brown's words, but he only laughed
lightly by way of reply.

"Yes, sir," said Brown.  "We found out all about
it.  We dug over the snow you had thrown on the
road and then tried to tramp down so that it wouldn't
show.  We know all about that, my fleet-footed
friend."

"No one can say that either of us put any ashes on
the road," said Tim boldly.  "We didn't do it, we
didn't have anything to do with it--if any ashes were
scattered there, which, for my part, I very much
doubt."

"No one would ever accuse you of doing it," said
Ward hotly.  "You never yet had the manliness to
stand up and have a decent share in the mean tricks
you set the other boys up to.  Oh, no, you probably
didn't carry the ashes up the hill.  No one would
ever think of you as doing that.  You'd rather have
some one else do all your dirty work, and then you'll
crawl out when the pinch comes."

"Well, there's one thing I never did, anyway,"
replied Tim slowly, although his eyes betrayed the
anger which Ward's words had aroused.  "I never
went back on my friends by the 'I am holier than
thou' dodge.  I never stooped to pose as a pious
fraud after I'd been guilty of some things I could
mention.  Not much!  If ever I went over to
Dorrfield and had a supper at another fellow's expense
and got drunk, I never whined and lied out of it, nor
told of the other fellows, anyway.  If I ever stole any
examination questions, I never denied it.  If I
flunked when it came to the end of the year, I never
bootlicked the teachers and tried the 'good little boy'
dodge.  Now suppose I did know that ashes were to
be scattered on the path?  What could I do about
it, I'd like to know?  If some of the fellows couldn't
bear the thought of Jack Hobart, with such a crowd
of bootlicks as he had on his bob, coming in ahead of
'The Swallow,' why whose fault was it, I'd like to
know?  I couldn't help it, could I?  I've got enough
to answer for myself, without taking on my shoulders
every fellow that is despised by the school."

The anger which Ward felt when Tim first began
to speak soon gave way to shame and mortification
as the brutal lad went on.  All his thrusts went
home, and Ward could hardly speak when Tim
stopped.  All his former disgrace came back upon him,
and he felt as if every boy in the room must be
regarding him as Tim pretended to himself.

But Henry, who felt deeply for his room-mate,
with flashing eyes quickly came to his assistance.
Rising from the chair in which he had been seated
and standing directly in front of Tim, he said:
"Look here, Tim Pickard, you'll not gain anything
by raking up old scores, or trying to get us off on the
track of last year's work, whether it's true or false
what you say.  You know as well as I do that some
of these things are not true; but I don't care
anything about them, one way or the other.  And you
can't scare us in any such way, either.  Now look
here, Tim Pickard!  do you see that arm of mine?
I've got to carry it in a sling for weeks, and why?
Just because of your sneaking trick.  Jack Hobart's
lost a finger and no one knows how long he'll be in
bed, or whether he'll ever leave it alive or not, for
that matter.  Now what was the cause of it?
Answer me, will you?  Where did all these fellows get
their bumps and bruises, and how does it happen
that 'The Arrow' is smashed into pieces?  Can you
tell me that?  You want to know what we're going
to do about it, do you?  Well, I could tell you mighty
quick what I'd do if it was left to me.  I'd go straight
to Doctor Gray and lay the whole thing before him.
We'd arranged for a square race with you, you know
that.  And I don't care whether you carried the ashes
up there yourself or had some of your sneaking
'Tangs' do the work for you; it's all one to me.  I
don't think the fellow who would be guilty of such a
mean, contemptible trick as that is fit to be in such a
school as this.  I haven't a bit of fear of being called
a tell-tale.  I'd think I was doing the very best that
could be done.  Yes, sir, if I could have my way I'd
even get up a petition to the doctor to have you put
out of the school.  When you set the little fellows up
to stacking rooms, I thought that was pretty small
business for a senior to be engaged in, though I
didn't think it was worth noticing; but when you
come to do things that endanger our lives, it's
another matter entirely, and I don't believe in mincing
matters, either.  If you'd settle down and behave
yourself, there isn't a fellow in the Weston school
that would do a thing against you; but it's time you
put a stop to some of the things you're doing, and if
you won't do it, then I claim the fellows themselves
ought to do it for you."

Henry ceased, and for a moment all the boys
looked at him in astonishment.  He was usually such
a quiet fellow that the outburst seemed to them all
the more remarkable.  Even Tim apparently had
been affected by Henry's righteous indignation; but
in a moment he recovered himself and said:

"That's just what we came over for.  Then we
are to understand, are we, that you intend to report
the matter to the teachers?"

"No, Tim," said Ward, who now had somewhat
recovered from his mortification.  "No, Tim, we don't
say we shall do that.  We talked it all over and made
up our minds that it wouldn't be quite fair to Jack
to do that.  He's suffered the most and he ought to
have the most to say about what shall be done.  We
sha'n't do anything till he is better and can say what
he wants."

"Jack Hobart never will squeal, if you leave it to
him; but it won't be left to him, I'm thinking.  Some
of these pious frauds will not be able to keep still and
wait for him.  Well, Ripley," he continued, rising as
he spoke and turning to his companion, "we'll have
to face the music, I suppose."  And face the music
they did for Dr. Gray in some mysterious way heard
of their part in the almost fatal accident and
immediately expelled Tim from school.  He gave Ripley a
severe reprimand but did not deal as severely with
him, for the just master realized Tim's mastery over
the weaker boy.

Ward felt greatly relieved when he heard of Tim's
expulsion.  An evil genius had passed out of his life.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`JACK HOBART'S PROPOSITION`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXV


.. class:: center medium bold

   JACK HOBART'S PROPOSITION

.. vspace:: 2

Jack Hobart's recovery was rapid.  The fear
which Doctor Leslie had first felt that there might
be some internal injuries was soon dispelled, and
though the shock to Jack's system had been severe,
his sturdy frame soon asserted itself, and very soon
he was pronounced out of all danger.

The spring and early summer days almost seemed
to rush past Ward Hill, so swiftly did they go.  Each
day was filled with its routine work, and as he was
working hard to pass Berry in his class, he had little
inclination or time to devote to outside matters.

The boy, however, was no book-worn, or "dig," as
the Weston boys designated one who was devoted to
books alone, and the class meetings, frequent now
that the end of the year was so near, the school life,
and the companionship of the boys all appealed to
him strongly.

But even stronger than his desire to win a high
standing in his scholarship was his determination to
carry off the prize in declamation.  In lieu of the
ordinary "graduating exercises," there was each
year a contest for two prizes, in which all of the
seniors and a few of the boys in the class below them
whose standing was sufficiently high were permitted
to compete.  Preliminary contests were held and the
number of contestants was somewhat decreased
before the final trial occurred.

Ward and Henry already had succeeded in passing
the first of these trials and were sure of a place on
the program for the final and deciding contest.
This was to occur in the evening of the last day of
the term, and many of the parents and friends of
the boys, as well as a large number of former
students who came back to revisit the scenes of their
school-days and perhaps strive to catch something
of the contagion of the spirit of life and enthusiasm,
were expected to be present.  Jack Hobart was not
to compete for the prize, as he had but little ability
in that line; but he was almost as much interested
in Ward's success as he would have been in his own.
Together they went almost every afternoon to one
of the secluded spots on the hillsides, and while Ward
awakened the echoes by his eloquence, Jack sat by
and listened in solemn admiration or passed such
criticisms as occurred to him, and Ward found his
friend's suggestions frequently of great value.

Only a week remained now before the prize speaking
was to take place.  Ward and Jack were returning
from their daily visit to the woods, and as they
walked on their thoughts naturally reflected their
feelings.

"I don't know how it is," Jack was saying, "but
somehow I have a mighty queer feeling at the close
of this year.  This makes four years I have been in
the Weston school, and any one would naturally
think I'd be glad to be out of it.  Of course in a way
I am, but somehow I'm broken up by it too.  The
first thing I do every morning is to take a good
look at the Hump.  The old hill is always there just
the same, but I'm half afraid every morning to look
out for fear he's hidden himself somewhere."

"It's become a part of your life, I fancy," said
Ward soberly.  "Last year when the end came, it
almost seemed to me as if the mountains here were
frowning upon me, but this year they seem like
steps or ladders up to something better."

"And they are," said Jack enthusiastically.  "I
suppose we're somewhat broken up to think the end
has come and that we've got to scatter now.  Some
of the fellows I sha'n't feel very bad about leaving,
but when I think of some of the others, it almost
seems to me as if I just couldn't go on without them,
and that is all there is to it.  It just seems to me,
Ward, as if I couldn't go on without you.  I don't
believe, old fellow, you ever realized how much
you are to me.  I never had a brother; but it seems
to me, Ward, that if we had both had the same
father and same mother we couldn't be more to
each other."

Jack was evidently affected, and Ward's heart
responded to that of his impulsive friend in an
instant.

"I never had a brother either, Speck, but I feel as
if I had one now."  Almost instinctively the boys
stopped and clasping hands looked earnestly into
each other's face.  There was something almost
sacred in the hand-clasp, as if it were a pledge of a
lifelong love.

The love between brother and sister, father and
son, mother and daughter, husband and wife, are all
sacred and beautiful, but the love between two boys
or young men has in it also something that is very
nearly sublime.  God pity the man who has never
known what it was to have a deep-abiding love for
another of his own sex.  Something is wanting in
his make-up to cause such a lack, and his life too
will never know the fullness of its best meaning
without that experience.  Friends and friendship!
"A man that hath friends must show himself
friendly," wrote a keen observer of men many
centuries ago.  But with a friendship once formed no
true man ever ought to let anything break in upon it.

And these lifelong friendships are almost never
formed in after years.  They come, if they come at
all, in the days of boyhood or young manhood.  That
is the seed-sowing time for friendship, as it is for
a good many of the other good things of life.

"I've been thinking it over a good deal, Ward,"
said Jack, "and I talked with my mother about it
too when she was here.  Now you're going on to
college and so am I.  I don't want to break up what's
been begun between us here if it can be avoided.
Now you know I did think of going away from home
to college, and of course I may do that yet, but
whatever comes I want to go with you.  You can't
tell how you have helped me by the fight you've
made this year.  I ought to have such a fellow with
me all the time.  There's no telling what I might do
if I had."

Ward smiled but made no other reply.  Jack's
words had stirred him deeply, but he had learned too
much in the year that was now almost gone to put
a very high estimate upon the value of the "fight"
to which his friend referred.

"What I want to say," said Jack, "if I can only
get at it, is, that rather than not be with you I'd be
glad to go to the college in my own town and have
you come right there and live in our house all
through the course.  There!  I've managed to get it
out at last, but that's just exactly what I mean."

"You are good to me, Jack," said Ward slowly.

"That's not it, for you'd be the one to confer the
favor, let me tell you.  My mother would be only
too glad to have you come, for she says that then
she'd be sure to have me home for a time.  She
says my absence, lo, these many years, has been the
only 'speck' on her horizon.  Now if you'll say the
word, it's all settled, college, room, chum, and all."

"I hope you won't think me ungrateful, Jack, but
I can't answer you now, though honestly I don't
believe my father would be willing to accept such a
gift.  He'll feel proud as a peacock that you thought
enough of me to make me such an offer, and he'll
appreciate your kindness too; but I don't believe you
can understand just how he feels about some things.
He wouldn't be quite willing to receive such a favor,
I think, unless he saw some way of returning it."

"But he would return it and more," said Jack
eagerly.

"I don't just see how."

"By letting you come.  Your company, and the
influence of such a fellow on your humble servant
would be something which would be more than just
a mere matter of a gift.  We'd be so glad to have
you, we'd think it a great bargain, and if there's
anything in all the world, next to me, my mother
loves, it's a bargain."

Ward laughed, but Jack was too much in earnest
to be turned from his purpose.

"Let's go over to Mr. Crane's room and talk with
him.  Will you do it, Ward?"

"Yes, I'll go over to his room, but I hope you
won't think I don't appreciate what you've said, Jack,
if I say I can't settle the matter now, and that I
am more than half afraid my father won't agree
to it, though I know he'll thank you."

"I don't expect you to give in at once," said Jack.
"It's asking too much.  But come on!  We'll go right
over to Mr. Crane's room now."

Whatever the impulsive lad wished to do must be
done at once, and as Ward consented, in a few
minutes both of them were seated in the teacher's room.

"We want to know, Mr. Crane," said Jack, not
broaching his project at once, "what you think about
colleges.  We want to get your opinion, if you're
willing to give it to us."

"What I think about college?" replied Mr. Crane.
"I thought you understood pretty well what my opinion
about that was, long before this time.  You know
I am a strong believer in every boy going who can
do so without too great a strain upon his parents."

"That isn't exactly what I mean," said Jack.  "We
both of us know how you feel about that.  But what
college do you prefer?"

"That depends.  I prefer some colleges for certain
boys and should advise others to go to different ones.
It is impossible to formulate a fixed rule for every
case."

"But which is better, a large college or small?"

"Again, that depends," replied Mr. Crane with a
smile.  "If a boy has means, and his character is
fairly well developed when he goes so that he will
not be likely to be lost in the crowd, undoubtedly
he can gain certain advantages in some of the larger
colleges he never could find in the smaller.  Their
larger endowments and better equipments are certainly
no small matter to be considered.  On the other
hand, if a boy is somewhat diffident and immature
and needs bringing out more than he needs to be
filled, doubtless he would do better in a small college.
There is more of the personal contact there between
the student and his teachers, and his own individual
needs are looked to much better.  In general, I may
say if what a boy needs is the development of
himself, the smaller college will do more for him.  If
what he needs is not so much the bringing out of
himself as the filling up, the larger college is the
place for him."

"That places Jack and me in two different classes,
then," said Ward.

"I am not so sure of that," replied Mr. Crane.
"You have both of you been away to school now,
and have been thrown back upon yourselves.  You
have learned to depend upon your own efforts, and
I do not regard it as in the least probable that
either of you would be swallowed up and lost in the
crowd in a large college.  It is no slight advantage
to have had two years at Weston before you go."

"I wish we could keep right on at Weston, and
not have to go anywhere else," said Jack.

"No, I hardly think you really wish that, Hobart.
Of course, now that you are about to leave us you
forget all the unpleasant things and remember only
the pleasant ones.  I would not have it otherwise,
and trust that some of us will still be a part of
your lives, even when you are apart from us.  But
when one becomes a man he is compelled to leave
childish things.  All that you have been doing has
been leading up to this time, and now you must
face it."

"Of course I know that must be so," said Jack
quietly, "and I suppose if we really thought we
should have to come back we wouldn't like it a little
bit.  But what I really wanted to know, Mr. Crane,
was what you thought about Ward coming down and
living with me in my home and going to college
there with me."

Ward's face flushed slightly, and he added: "Jack
hasn't told it all.  What he wants is for me to live
with him and not to pay anything for the privilege."

"That isn't----" began Jack.

Mr. Crane interrupted him and said: "I think I
understand; but it's a question in which I fancy
others besides you boys may be interested."

"That's just it," said Jack quickly, "My mother
wants him even more than I do."

"But there's my father to be thought of too," said
Ward.  "He may not want me to do it."

"Precisely," said Mr. Crane.  "That's a question
I cannot answer.  You see I am the one being
examined now, and you are the examiners; and I have
failed."

"There's some hope for me then if the teachers
themselves fail," said Jack laughingly.

"Personally I never had that feeling others
describe as being unwilling to accept a favor," said
Mr. Crane.  "Few of these so-called 'favors' are all
on one side.  They are almost always a species of
'give and take.'  However, I am no judge for others,
and sometimes think I have more than I can do to
look after myself.  I shall be interested to learn
your decision."

The boys departed, and soon after went to their
own rooms with the problem still unsolved.

Ward was deeply touched by Jack's offer and his
eagerness for him to accept it.  If he should do so,
he well knew what a load would be lifted from his
father's shoulders, but still he thought he understood
what his father's decision would be.

The few remaining days of the term now rapidly
came.  Ward was working busily and the visits to
the glen with Jack increased.  He was more anxious
than he cared to show about the prize for declamation,
but his anxiety only served to increase his
labors.  Henry was to compete also, but somehow
the boys did not often refer to the contest in the
other's presence.  The best of feeling prevailed,
but both were eager to win, although if either lost he
sincerely desired the other to win.

On Monday, the visitors in the village began
rapidly to increase.  "Old boys," as the students
called the former students, many of them now
gray-haired men and coming up to Weston with their
own sons or grandsons, arrived by every bus.
The parents and sisters, and brothers of the
graduating class also came, and the beauty of the little
village was greatly enhanced by the bright apparel
of the girls and the interested groups of the visitors
who wandered about among the school buildings
or along the wide streets.

When Ward's father and mother came, the welcome
they received from him was far different from
that he had given them in the preceding year.  He
was all eagerness, and his happiness was so apparent
that it speedily became contagious, and as he
brought the boys up to meet his father and mother
his heart was overflowing as he heard the warm
words for him on almost every side.

On Tuesday night the contest for the prize in
declamation was to be held.  As the hour approached
Ward's excitement became greater, although his
outward calm was not disturbed.  A great audience
assembled to listen to the boys, and at last Doctor
Gray, who presided, advanced to the front of the
platform to announce the first speaker of the evening.





.. vspace:: 4

.. _`CONCLUSION`:

.. class:: center large bold

   CHAPTER XXVI


.. class:: center medium bold

   CONCLUSION

.. vspace:: 2

Ward, with the other speakers, was waiting in
the rear of the platform, but the printed program
informed each when his time was to come, and
so each was striving to possess his soul in patience.

Berry was the first to be called, and as Ward
peered out at him as he advanced to the front of the
platform, bowed gracefully to Dr. Gray, and then
turned to face the audience, he almost envied him
his self-possession and ease.

Soon, however, the boy was speaking, and as he
went on even Ward felt deeply interested in what he
was saying.  When his declamation was ended and
a storm of applause broke forth, Ward felt as if
there was little use in trying to compete with Berry,
and as he rejoined his companions in the rear of the
platform Ward was the first to congratulate him
upon his success.

And his expressions were genuine and hearty too,
for while Ward with all his heart desired to win the
prize, he had now no feeling of bitterness toward
his competitors.

Ripley was the next speaker, but Ward at once
perceived that he was far below Berry in his hold
upon the audience, and indeed among those who
followed only Pond seemed in any way likely to be
a close competitor for the prize.

Ward's name was the last on the list, and when he
heard his name announced and walked slowly
forward, he was somehow conscious that the audience
was becoming somewhat wearied and restless.

His appearance, however, served to arouse the
younger portion at least, and a faint murmur of
applause was heard as he bowed low to his hearers.
This was quickly hushed and Ward for the first time
looked directly at his audience.

He was conscious only of an indiscriminate mass
of faces at first all turned toward him.  It seemed to
him as if he must have more air.  His breath would
not come and he felt as if he were choking.  For a
moment every sentence of his declamation departed
and he could not recall even the first and opening
words.

His momentary hesitation was not noticed or
perhaps perceived by his audience, however, or it may
have been that they considered his hesitancy as only
a deliberate movement on his part.  It seemed to the
frightened boy as if something were clutching him
by the throat.  Everything turned black before him,
and he almost felt that he must cry aloud in his
misery.  Abject failure seemed to stare him in the face.

Suddenly he caught sight of Mr. Crane seated
about half-way back in the audience, and then right
near him were his father and mother and Jack.  The
last was leaning forward and regarding him with
breathless interest, and the sight instantly restored
Ward's self-possession.  The words of his declamation
instantly flashed into his mind and in a low,
clear voice he began to speak.

All his previous confusion which to him had
seemed to cover hours, had in reality lasted but a
moment, and as has been said, was not noted by his
audience.  But as soon as he heard the sound of his
own voice all his "stage fright" was forgotten and
his whole soul was in his immediate task.  Yet out
of all the audience Ward seemed to be aware only of
the presence of Mr. Crane.  To him he was speaking,
and almost as if he was to be the deciding judge
he addressed himself to the teacher.  Whenever he
changed his position or faced other portions of the
assembly he saw no one distinctly and soon returned
to his favorite teacher.  To him he spoke, for him
he exerted himself, his praise was to be his exceeding
great reward.

And Ward Hill threw himself without reserve into
his speaking.  It seemed to him as if every word
was his own, and he must make his hearers see what
he saw and believe as he believed.  The audience
became more and more silent, and almost no one
removed his eyes from the eager, animated,
manly-appearing boy.

As he went on his eagerness increased and the
interest of his hearers increased also.  Ward almost
forgot every one except Mr. Crane, and as he felt
rather than saw the intense interest of his teacher,
he responded to it instantly.  There was no hesitation,
no faltering, no lack of words now.  His face
was glowing, his movements animated, and his every
gesture counted.

When at last he had finished and paused a moment
before he made his final bow, there was a silence in
the room that was most intense.  But the instant he
turned to depart from the platform the pent-up feelings
of the audience broke forth and a storm of applause
followed him which continued long after he
had rejoined his competitors behind the scenes.

"You did nobly, Ward," said Pond eagerly, as he
grasped the hand of the flushed and excited boy.
"Not much show for us, is there, Berry?" he added,
as Berry pressed forward to add his congratulations.

"I'm afraid not," replied Berry.  "I never heard
any one do better, Ward."

They all instantly became silent as Dr. Gray arose
to speak.  He spoke some warm words of praise for
the work which had been done that year, and then
announced the honors of the graduating class.

Pond stood at the head, and although the audience
applauded heartily, the announcement created little
interest, as the popular boy's position had been a
forgone conclusion.  Berry was second and Ward was
third.  The applause which followed had hardly
begun before Ward rushed forward to congratulate the
boys who had outstripped him.

"Lucky for us, Ward, that you didn't work last
year as you have this.  I'm afraid we wouldn't have
stood a very good chance if you had," said Pond.

Ward laughed as he said: "To tell the truth, boys,
I should be glad to have stood first, of course, but
there was not much chance for me with the load I
had to carry.  Perhaps I learned more, though, by
my failures than I would have if I had worked as
hard last year as I have this.  The wound is healed
but the scar is left, you see.  But honestly, fellows,
I'm glad you are the ones to go ahead if I couldn't."

"Hush, boys!  Here comes the committee to report
their decision," said Berry.

The suspense and interest were manifest in the
hush which fell over all as the chairman of the
committee who was to award the prize for the best
declamation now returned to the platform and
signified his readiness to make the report.

As in duty bound the man first referred to his own
school days in Weston, now far back in the years,
and noted the many changes which had taken place.
Then he went on to speak in glowing terms of the
exercises of the evening, and when he came to the
remark which almost every chairman had made for
years, that "seldom from any college platform had
he heard better speaking," a smile crept over the
faces of many who heard him.

"And now," resumed the speaker, "we are to report
on the exercises of this evening.  If it had been
in our power we should have been glad to award the
first place to every boy on the program, much as
Artemus Ward made each man in his company a
brigadier general.  But as that is impossible, we are
compelled to do the next best thing and use our
judgment in selecting the speaker who seems best
entitled to the award and to the reward."

"Bother his long speeches," said Berry in a low
voice.  "Why can't he say what he has to say and be
done with it?"

The three boys were standing together just out of
the sight of the audience, and with breathless
interest were peering forward and listening to the
speaker.

"As to the award of the first prize, there has not
been much difference of opinion."

The man was speaking again and the boys at once
became silent and intent upon his words.

"We have decided that the first prize, in view of
the points we have marked, namely: forcefulness,
clearness of enunciation, gracefulness, and self-possession,
and the interpretation of the piece, belongs
to--Ward Hill."

The words had hardly been uttered before a loud
burst of applause broke forth from the audience.
Jack in his enthusiasm stood up on his seat and threw
his hat into the air, but a quiet touch by Mr. Crane
recalled him to the proprieties of the occasion.  The
applause, however, was long continued and hearty,
and showed that plainly the assembly concurred in
the decision.

Ward felt the blood surge up in his face and as
Berry patted him upon the shoulder, and Pond's
glance betrayed his feeling, Ward felt that never
before had he been so happy.

"The second prize," resumed the chairman as the
audience at last became quiet, "has been a little more
difficult to award.  The nearly equal excellence of
two of the speakers has led us at last to divide the
prize.  The second prize is therefore awarded to
Lucius Berry and Frederick Pond."

Again the applause broke forth, genuine and long
continued, and was redoubled when the three boys
advanced to receive their prizes.

Ward glanced down at his father and mother and
as he plainly saw them stealthily wiping their eyes,
he felt a suspicious moisture creeping into his own.
How different it all was from the close of the
preceding year!  It had been a long, hard struggle, but
he had been well repaid in the happiness which had
come to his parents, and in which he fully shared.

He was only partially aware of what followed.
He knew that the audience had been dismissed and
that many of the boys crowded about him with their
words of congratulation and praise.  He heard
Mr. Crane's quiet words of praise too, and the warm
grasp of the hand which was the sole expression of
his father at the time was inexpressibly dear to him.
His heart seemed to be overflowing and the
long-continued effort of the year had brought him its
reward; far more than the prize he had received was
the satisfaction of having faced his difficulties and
conquered in the struggle.

At last all the audience was gone, and Jack and
Ward started slowly up the street together.

"It's been a great night," said Jack: "and, Ward,
you have done nobly.  Everybody is proud of you.
But do you know, I'm not thinking of the prize you
took."

"What are you thinking of?" said Ward quietly.
His own mind had not been dwelling upon the prize
either.

"I was thinking of the way in which you have
faced the school, the work, and yourself, this year.
I think I know something of what it has cost you.
It's been a big price, but it was worth it."

Ward made no reply, although his heart responded
warmly to his friend's words.  He thought he too
knew what he had lost and what he had gained; but
he could not speak of either.

"Now, Ward," resumed Jack, "you've had a chance
to talk with your father.  What does he say about
my proposition for next year?"

"Jack, old fellow, he was deeply touched, but he
doesn't think it will do."

"Is he afraid to have you with me?"

"No, no; not a bit.  That isn't it, but he wants me
to go to another college."  Ward did not refer to the
other fact of which he was well aware, that his
father was not willing for him to accept so great a
favor at the hands of another, when he had no means
of returning it.

"That's all right, then," said Jack; "but you
haven't got rid of me yet.  I'm going where you go,
and I'm going with you too.  Wouldn't it be a fine
thing if Luscious and Henry and you and I could get
some rooms together?  Then, if Pond and one or
two of the other fellows could go up to the same
college we'd be all fixed out, wouldn't we?  Say, Ward,
let's fix that up, will you?"  And all of the eagerness
and impulsiveness of Jack's nature seemed to
find expression in his words.

"It would be fine," replied Ward.  "We'll have to
talk that up."

The few remaining days of the closing week passed
rapidly, and to Ward it seemed as if he were almost
in a dream.  The attentions he received, the words
of love and praise spoken by nearly every one, his
pride in his success, and above all the satisfaction in
his own soul, arising from the consciousness that he
had done his best, were with him all the time.

The last interview with Mr. Crane affected him
deeply.  He and Jack went up together for the parting,
and it seemed to them as if the quiet dignity and
warm heart of the loved teacher were never more
apparent.

"It's a sad break in some ways to us who are to
remain," said Mr. Crane.  "You can't understand it,
but it seems to me as if you were my younger brothers,
and the home life was being broken.  There will
be something lacking next year.  Not that we shall
not have other boys whom we shall love and in whom
we shall be interested, but they will not fully take
the place of those who have left.  Weston is all the
home I know and perhaps shall ever know, and while
I never may have any boys of my own, I trust you
will always let me feel at least like an older brother
to each of you."

"Mr. Crane, we owe everything to you," said Ward
with shining eyes.

"If I have aided you, then pay the debt by aiding
others," replied Mr. Crane softly.  "Weston is only
a stopping-place, not the end of the journey, and
there is work for you to do.  Some one else needs the
helping hand, and yours I know will not be held back.
I shall want to hear from you often and shall follow
you with interest as long as I live.  Whatever else
you may become, I know you will be men!"

"I trust so," said Ward, and when for the last time
he grasped Mr. Crane's hand and returned the pressure,
his eyes were moist and his heart went out to
the noble teacher with a great love, which never
ended.

Even Mr. Blake was visited by the boys that night,
and much of their dislike for him was forgotten in
the fullness of their hearts.  All the world looked
bright and there was no room for anything but peace
and good-will to all men.

On the following day, the last good-byes were
spoken and they knew as they started for their
homes, that the end of their lives and work at
Weston had come.  The peaceful valley, bathed in the
sunlight of the early summer morning, smiled upon
them.  Around it were the hills, the everlasting hills,
which would beam upon the coming generations of
boys, who might never know of the struggles and
triumphs, the failures and success of Ward Hill; but
as for the last time he looked back upon the familiar
scenes he felt that in a peculiar sense they were his
own personal possessions.  He might not return to
them, but they would not depart from him.

"We'll meet again," said Jack when the school
cheer had been given for the last time on the
platform of the little station at Dorrfield.

Were his words true?  Certainly in the college
days there was ample opportunity to test the truthfulness
of his prophecy, and as a record of those days
has been kept as well as of the visits to the old
familiar scenes at Weston, perhaps some of our readers
may be sufficiently interested to desire to follow
their fortunes in----

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center

   WARD HILL AT COLLEGE.

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 3

.. class:: center large bold white-space-pre-line

   The Outdoor Chums
   SERIES

.. class:: center medium bold

   *By* CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

   The Outdoor Chums
     On the Lake
       In the Forest
         On the Gulf
           After Big Game
             On A House Boat
               In the Big Woods
                 At Cabin Point

.. vspace:: 1

For lovers of the great outdoors (and what boy
is not?) this "Outdoor Chums" series will be a rare
treat.  After you have read the first book and
followed the fortunes of the "Chums," you will
realize the pleasure the other seven volumes have
in store for you.

These rollicking lads know field, forest, mountain,
sea and stream--and the books contain much
valuable information on woodcraft and the living
of an outdoor life.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
   CLEVELAND, \O.


.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   \*      \*      \*      \*      \*

.. vspace:: 2

.. class:: center large bold white-space-pre-line

   The Musket Boys
   SERIES

.. class:: center medium bold

   *By* GEORGE A. WARREN

.. class:: noindent white-space-pre-line

   The Musket Boys of Old Boston
     The Musket Boys Under Washington
       The Musket Boys on the Delaware

.. vspace:: 1

Stirring times were these--and stirring deeds
made boys into men before their time.

Against the picturesque background of the
revolutionary war, George A. Warren tells a tale of
heroism and patriotism of the boys of long ago who
heard the call of their country and rallied to the
colors.

What trials of valor and responsibilities beyond
their years comes to "The Musket Boys" is told
in an enthralling manner.

.. vspace:: 1

.. class:: center white-space-pre-line

   The Goldsmith Publishing Co.
   CLEVELAND, \O.

.. vspace:: 6

.. pgfooter::