The boys of Columbia High in track athletics : or, A long run that won

By Forbes

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Title: The boys of Columbia High in track athletics
        or, A long run that won

Author: Graham B. Forbes

Release date: January 22, 2025 [eBook #75171]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1913

Credits: Aaron Adrignola, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN TRACK ATHLETICS ***


  [Illustration: “LANKY WALLACE LEADS!”

  _Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics._
                                           _Frontispiece_ (_Page 119._)]




  The
  Boys of Columbia High in
  Track Athletics

  OR

  A Long Run That Won

  BY
  GRAHAM B. FORBES

  AUTHOR OF “THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH,” “THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA
  HIGH ON THE DIAMOND,” ETC.

  _ILLUSTRATED_

  NEW YORK
  GROSSET & DUNLAP
  PUBLISHERS




The Boys of Columbia High Series

By GRAHAM B. FORBES

_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated._


  THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH
      Or The All Around Rivals of the School

  THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND
      Or Winning Out by Pluck

  THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE RIVER
      Or The Boat Race Plot That Failed

  THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE GRIDIRON
      Or The Struggle for the Silver Cup

  THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE
      Or Out for the Hockey Championship

  THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN TRACK ATHLETICS
      Or A Long Run That Won


  GROSSET & DUNLAP
  PUBLISHERS      NEW YORK

  COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  _The Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics_




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                               PAGE

      I DISTANCE RUNNERS                   1

     II HELD BY THE ENEMY                 11

    III THE GYPSY CARAVAN                 22

     IV A MYSTERY OF THE WAGON            33

      V ON THE CAMPUS GREEN               44

     VI MAKING PLANS                      53

    VII THE BENEFITS OF DISCIPLINE        62

   VIII LANKY’S PRIDE CONQUERS            71

     IX AMONG THE NOMADS OF THE ROAD      80

      X THE BUNCH FROM BELLPORT           89

     XI ALMOST A RIOT                     98

    XII A POPULAR BOY                    106

   XIII ON THE HARRAPIN                  115

    XIV LANKY FINDS HIS CHANCE           124

     XV AN ACCIDENT BETRAYS RUFUS        133

    XVI LANKY BECOMES A “BARKER”         144

   XVII THE GYPSY QUEEN’S MOVE           153

  XVIII FINDING OUT                      162

    XIX THE GREAT DAY                    171

     XX CLIFFORD’S NEW HOPE              180

    XXI WHAT HAPPENED TO BONES           189

   XXII COLUMBIA’S LAST CHANCE           198

  XXIII THE END OF THE LONG RUN          207

   XXIV WHEN THE MESSAGE CAME            215

    XXV THE STOLEN CHILD                 224




THE

BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH IN TRACK ATHLETICS




CHAPTER I

DISTANCE RUNNERS


“Our last year at good old Columbia High, fellows!”

“I just hate to think of it, Lanky!”

“We’ve had some great times during these four years, for a fact; and
college can never take the place of this school. And what fierce
battles we’ve had on the diamond and gridiron with our rivals of
Clifford and Bellport! I’ll be mighty sorry to leave the old school
behind.”

“Perhaps you miss your guess about me, boys. I may stick to Columbia
for another year.”

“Shucks! expect us to believe that kind of talk, Frank Allen; when
everybody knows you’re bound to graduate with the highest honors ever
given at Columbia High?”

“Listen, then; and while we hold up here to get a breathing spell on
our practice cross country run. I’ll tell you how it is.”

“Wish you would, Frank,” said the tall, thin lad, who was known
as Lanky Wallace; though it was said that at home they called him
Clarence. “Here’s our chum, Bones Shadduck, staring at you as if he
reckoned he was up against the great Chinese puzzle. Open up and tell
us!”

The three boys were in running costume, and had been swinging steadily
along country roads, and across fields and farms, within five miles
of the town of Columbia, for an hour or more. They were, with others,
engaged in a cross country run; but as it was only intended to be a
“bracer” for great events in the near future, these three contestants,
all of whom had splendid records in past school races, had for
company’s sake kept close together.

Columbia lay upon the bank of the Harrapin river, upon which stream the
boys found great enjoyment, winter and summer. Not many miles below
was Bellport, more of a manufacturing town; while Clifford lay up the
river, and on the other bank.

As both of these enterprising towns had high schools, it was only
natural that the pupils should feel a certain amount of rivalry in
their various sports. And as a rule these were entered upon with
that fine spirit of fairness that adds zest to any game where the
competition is keen, and victory cheered to the echo.

In the first volume of this series, “The Boys of Columbia High; Or, The
All Around Rivals of the School,” the reader is given an account of the
school life of many of the characters; together with some of the indoor
sports suitable to the season.

In the spring it was natural that baseball should be the leading topic
in their minds; and some of the thrilling battles which they had with
the neighboring teams of Clifford and Bellport will be found in the
book, “The Boys of Columbia High on the Diamond; Or, Winning Out by
Pluck.”

With the coming of summer and hot weather, baseball was almost
forgotten; but a new source of amusement, as well as competition,
arose, when an eight-oared shell came for the boys of Columbia High. Of
course, not to be outdone, the rival schools must also embark in the
same line. So a tournament was arranged on the Harrapin by some of the
enterprising citizens of the three towns, who believed in giving their
boys all the healthy outdoor sport they could. Many of the remarkable
happenings that accompanied that summer carnival on the water you will
find in the third volume, called “The Boys of Columbia High on the
River; Or, The Boat Race Plot that Failed.”

Another school term found the rivals of the Harrapin just as eager to
try conclusions with each other as ever. And as the tang of frost was
in the air, naturally they could think of nothing but football. And so
again they met and fought it out to a finish for the prize. An account
of the fiercely contested games, where brawn and sinew were often
outwitted by a little gray matter in the brain of a clever dodger, is
given in “The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron; Or, The Struggle
for the Silver Cup.”

Then came winter, with a sheet of ice covering the Northern river, and
scores of boys were fairly wild to spend every spare hour upon it. They
had glorious times that year along the Harrapin, as you will admit
after finishing the fifth volume of the series, just preceding this
story, and which bears the name of “The Boys of Columbia High on the
Ice; Or, Out for the Hockey Championship.”

And now, with spring at hand, the talk was all of the great athletic
event of the year, which had been arranged as a fitting wind-up of the
finest class Columbia had ever turned out at a graduation time.

It was to be an open competition, and the pupils of Clifford and
Bellport had received a special invitation to enter for the various
field and track events on the long program.

Every fine day, when school was not in session, boys in running costume
could be met, jogging steadily along the country roads. In the fields
where the schools played all their outdoor games, groups of students
were to be seen engaged in practicing putting the shot, high jumping,
wrestling, sprinting short distances, each and every one filled with
the spirit of the hour.

Indeed, Columbia was bubbling over with excitement, since the great day
was now close at hand when all these tests to prove superiority were to
be brought about before a record-breaking throng.

Columbia, in the past, had been very fortunate in downing her river
rivals; but the boys of Clifford and Bellport were possessed of the
true grit animating all lovers of clean sport, and they always came up
smiling for a new test. Forgetting the bitterness of previous defeats,
they were ever ready to affirm their belief in their ability to wrest
the prize from the athletes of Columbia.

And as there had come many rumors of astonishing progress being made
by these rival schools, many in Columbia went about with sober faces;
and even hinted that they feared it was going to be a bad year for the
famous school.

Frank Allen always bore a leading part in all these athletic doings;
as did his particular chum, Lanky. And they were out on this Saturday,
with another well-known long-distance runner, Bones Shadduck, to get
their muscles in good trim for the grind of the Marathon that was to
be the crowning event of the great meet so soon to come about.

They were the hope of Columbia High. No other boys ventured to compete
with these long-distance runners when they took a notion to do their
best. On this occasion they were not thinking of trying to break
records, but meant to cover the ground, so as to become familiar with
all its features.

The course had been plainly mapped out, and in several places the
runners were allowed to exercise their discretion about choosing
between several methods of arriving at one of the many stations where
they were to be registered. That is, if a lad thought he could make
better time by crossing the country between two roads, he was given
that privilege; though warned that he might get bogged, held up by a
marshy stretch of ground, or even lost in the big woods, if not fully
familiar with the district.

Consequently it was not likely that anyone would take advantage of this
choice, but all of them were apt to stick to the main roads, where the
going was good.

Seeing that his two fellow runners were growing quite curious about
the explanation of his assertion, Frank laughed good-naturedly, and
remarked:

“Well, just wait till I wash the dust down my throat with a good drink
at this spring here, and then I’ll tell you what I meant by saying I
might stick to Columbia High another year.”

“Well, I want to say right now,” remarked Bones Shadduck, as he
sucked at a long scratch on his hand, which he had received from a
hanging vine in the brush they had just broken through, “that this
thing of cutting across country to save a little time doesn’t strike
me favorably. In the race I wager I keep close to the roads, and let
others take chances of getting mired, or lost, if they want to.”

Three minutes later, having refreshed themselves at the cool gurgling
spring, the trio of high-school boys stood for a minute or two before
starting off again on their jogging run in the direction of the next
road.

“Now, Frank, keep your promise,” warned Bones.

“Yes, I’ll be badgered if I can get head or tail of what he means,”
Lanky Wallace declared, shaking his head in a way he had when in doubt.

“My folks seem to have an idea that they’d rather I was a year older
before I went to college,” Frank began.

“Why, that’s funny, but I’ve been hearing a lot along the same line
myself at home,” broke in Lanky.

“Ditto here,” affirmed Bones Shadduck.

“And so they had me talk with Professor Tyson Parke about it,” Frank
continued; “and he said that he could arrange a post-graduate course
that would take up the better part of the year, and put me in fine
fettle for going into the freshman class at college.”

“Great scheme!” exclaimed Bones, “and just you see if I don’t put it up
to my people at home.”

“Count on me to do the same,” remarked Lanky, enthusiastically. “Why,
it would sort of break the school ties piecemeal, you see; and,
besides, when you take a post-graduate course, you only go for an
hour or so a day. That gives a fellow loads of time to take exercise
outdoors. And I need a heap of that, believe me.”

“What do you say about starting on again?” asked Frank.

“How far do you think it is to that road?” Bones queried, sucking again
at his bleeding hand, so that he might extract the last atom of poison
that had come from the scratch of the creeper.

“Oh! about a mile, I reckon,” Frank made answer, as they began to run.

“Only hope it’s better going than the last one, then; that was fierce,”
Bones went on to say, as he fell into his regular jogging pace, which
the boys declared he could keep up for an unlimited number of hours;
very much after the style of the Indian runners from Carlisle School,
who got it from their ancestors, those dusky messengers who would
journey hundreds of miles through dense forests, over mountains and
deserts, with little or no rest.

“Looks like we might have a snap here for a change,” remarked Lanky, as
they arrived on the border of what seemed to be a large pasture, which
told that they were now on some farm where stock were kept.

So they mounted the rail fence. Frank remembered noticing at the time
that this was built especially strong, and seemed to be even higher
than usual; but then, as his mind was upon other subjects, he paid
little attention to the fact.

They had about half crossed the field when Lanky suddenly came to a
stop.

“Go on, fellows!” he called out; “I’ve got to tie my shoe again; I’ll
catch up with you in a jiffy, before you get to the fence yonder.”

“Put a knot in that shoelace, Lanky,” said Bones, laughingly, over his
shoulder; “that makes the fourth time you’ve dropped down to tie it.
Try that game in the race and it might lose you your chance. It often
hangs on a small thing; doesn’t it, Frank?”

Receiving no reply to his question Bones glanced up at the face of his
chum. He found that Frank, while running steadily on, seemed to be
apparently listening intently, for his head was cocked to one side.

“What did you hear, Frank; the halloo of some other runner who’s bogged
over in that swamp?” demanded Bones.

“No; I thought I heard a snort, and it made me think of cattle,”
replied Frank.

“Well, that wouldn’t surprise me a whit,” declared the other,
immediately; “for I’ve seen signs of ’em all along, and I reckon this
field is used for--oh! now I heard it, too, Frank! A snort, you said;
well, I guess it was more than that. I’d call it a bellow, and an ugly
one at that. There’s something moving over back of Lanky. I guess he
sees it, for he’s on his feet now, looking. Wow, there comes a cow,
streaking it out from those bushes, and heading straight for Lanky!”

“A cow!” ejaculated Frank; “that’s a bull, Bones, and the worst-looking
one I ever remember seeing! We must be at the Hobson farm, and that’s
the fierce old bull Jack was telling me about. He’ll get Lanky if our
chum doesn’t do some tall sprinting right soon. Run, Lanky, run for all
you’re worth! Make for that tree near the fence, and if he gets too
close, climb up.”

Neither Frank nor Bones dared stand still, for the bull was heading in
their direction, even while chasing the tall boy from Columbia High.
And just then there were some “lively doings” in that pasture.




CHAPTER II

HELD BY THE ENEMY


Talking was out of the question just then. Every fellow was making his
legs go about as rapidly as he knew how; with the bull charging down
after them at full speed, his long tail flying in the air, while he at
the same time emitted sundry half-muffled bellows that added wings to
the flight of the cross country runners.

Speaking about the experience later on Bones Shadduck vowed that he
broke all known records in covering the distance that separated himself
and Frank from the friendly rail fence.

They sprang for the top of this as though they felt the hot breath of
the angry bull. Then, feeling safe for the first time, and with their
hearts beating like trip-hammers, the two boys turned to see what had
become of their chum.

Lanky had been very much nearer the charging animal than either of his
comrades, and he could not choose his course. With him the “longest
way around” was not the “quickest way to the fire.”

Perhaps he had heard what Frank called out about the tree that happened
to stand about thirty feet from the fence. At any rate, when he ran, he
was heading directly for that point.

The bull charged at Lanky. It may have been simply because the tall
runner happened to be the nearest moving object. Then again, Lanky had
on a sleeveless running shirt upon which, back and front, was a big
number seven in glowing red; for he had been known by that sign in the
last match in which he took part. And, somehow or other, all bulls, and
even some cows, seem to have a deep-seated hatred for that color.

Lanky ran as perhaps he never did before when on the home stretch, and
with a rival pressing him hard at his elbow. He had a good reason for
making record time. The prize was safety and a whole body. If he fell
down those cruel-looking black horns of the bull, even though they had
gilt balls at their ends, would be hooked under him to give him a toss
in the air; after which the infuriated animal would gore and trample
him.

  [Illustration: LANKY RAN AS PERHAPS HE NEVER DID BEFORE.

  _Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics._      _Page 12._]

But Lanky knew he could not reach that fence in time to mount. The
bull was able to cover ground even faster than the prize sprinter of
the school. He might jump to one side at the critical moment--a
practiced bull-fighter would doubtless have done this with ease; but
then Lanky was a greenhorn when it came to such things. In fact, he
could not remember ever having been chased by such an animal before.

The tree loomed before him. A few more desperate jumps and he would be
able to dodge around it and escape the first mad rush of his enemy.

Frank was holding his breath. He could not remember suffering more
mental agony than when sitting upon that fence watching his chum strive
with every muscle in his bony frame to reach the tree ahead of the
charging beast. And all because he and Bones were so utterly helpless
to assist Lanky.

“Hurrah! he done it!” yelped Bones, with an utter disregard for grammar
that might have shocked his teacher at school; but the boy was so
excited that he hardly knew what he was saying.

Lanky, with a grand rally at the end, had actually managed to slide
behind the big trunk of the tree. The bull went galloping past, unable
to immediately bring his forward progress to a stop.

They saw Lanky roll over once or twice, and again Frank gave a gasp,
fearing that the other might have received some injury in that fall
calculated to prevent him from doing what he must to escape the next
charge of the bull.

“There, he’s up again, and making for the tree!” snapped Bones, who
could not repress his feelings for an instant.

“Climb up, if you can, Lanky!” shouted Frank; but enough time was not
given for this performance, since again the bull was on the move.

Around and around the tree they went, the agile boy eluding each wild
attempt on the part of his bovine enemy to get him. Again and again
those horns would come against the trunk of the tree with a wicked
crash; it seemed as if the animal was growing more and more furious as
the seconds sped by without success attending his efforts.

All at once Bones gave a whoop.

“There he goes, Frank! Bully boy, Lanky; you fooled him that time, all
right!”

The one who was in peril had made a quick upward leap, seized hold of a
lower limb, which doubtless he had been looking at closely with a view
to using it; and bringing into play some of his marvelous agility as a
climber, he threw his lithe figure up until he could sit astride of the
new perch.

But his enemy had by now become aware of what he was doing. The bull
had been bellowing in an ugly way, and tossing the earth with his
horns; and it was while this performance was going on that Lanky had
taken advantage of the attention of the animal being turned away from
him to make his upward leap.

Although the bull charged and even tried to reach his dangling legs,
Lanky was able to draw them up in such a way that he felt safe.

Then Frank, for the first time, laughed. Since Lanky had managed to get
beyond the reach of the black beast, and seemed uninjured after his
close call, the humorous side of the adventure struck the other boys.

“Now will you be good, Lanky?” jeered Bones. “He’s got you nailed there
in that tree good and fast. What word shall we take to your folks
at home? Want to send ’em any message? Expect to get your meals by
aeroplane or kite? He’s going to camp right there till you oblige him
by coming down, believe me, Lanky.”

“Cut that chaff out, Bones, and be thinking up some scheme to coax the
old sinner away!” called back the beleaguered one, who had climbed
higher in the tree and could see his chums plainly as they sat upon the
fence nearby.

“Huh! I suppose now you’d like me to step over there and call him away;
wouldn’t you, Lanky?” demanded Bones. “But all the same I’m not goin’
to do it. There’s only one way you can get out of that tree.”

“Then tell me,” cried Lanky, eagerly.

“Grow some wings and fly!” answered Bones, with a loud laugh.

Frank saw that the situation, while not desperate, had its unpleasant
features. He knew something about the persistency of bulls in general.
He had heard of one that kept a farmer in a tree all night, and a
good part of the next day, nibbling the grass whenever he got hungry,
and always guarding the tree so that there was no chance whatever for
escape. And the man might have died from weakness had not a neighbor
happened to hear his shouts and shot the bull.

Lanky must be saved in some way or other, but just how to go about it
was the question. At first Frank thought he might coax the bull by
dropping over the fence at some distant part of the field. He tried it,
but with no success whatever. The cunning bull declined to nibble at
the bait. It was just as if he had decided that a boy in the tree was
worth two in the field keeping close to the fence so that it could be
scaled.

“It’s no go, Frank!” called out Bones, after the other had ventured as
near to the animal as he deemed safe, without drawing his attention a
particle. “You’ll have to try another dodge; or else Lanky’s going to
stay in that tree till Christmas rolls around, or the Glorious Fourth.”

“For goodness sake, think up some way of getting him off, Frank!”
called out the impatient prisoner of the lone tree.

“I’ve got a scheme!” cried Bones.

“Yes, you have!” Lanky answered in some derision; for he failed to have
any great amount of faith in anything Bones Shadduck originated.

“Well, this one’s a corker, I tell you,” the boy on the fence went on,
eagerly.

“All right, let’s hear it, and speak low so the bull won’t get on,”
Lanky suggested, with mock respect.

“Besides it’ll give Frank and me a heap of fun watching you, Lanky.”

“Oh! it will, hey? Lots of fun, you say? I’ve no doubt you’re enjoying
this game right well, Bones; but you’d laugh out of the other side of
your mouth if it was you sitting up here, and me on the fence. But go
on, tell us about it now.”

“Why, you want to watch your chance,” began Bones, soberly.

“Oh! do I? Chance for what?” demanded Lanky, derisively, for he seemed
to feel that the other was only having sport with him.

“To catch the bull off his guard, when you might drop plump on his
back. But if you do, Lanky,” Bones went on hurriedly, and with much
apparent concern, “be sure you get a good hold, because he’s apt to
jump and kick like a bucking bronco, and if he knocks you off it’s
good-bye for yours. You’ll be a back number.”

Even Lanky was seen to grin at this wild proposition.

“Well, you are the punk thing, Bones, when it comes to helping a chum
out of a hole,” he called out. “Frank, I know I can depend on you to
hatch up some smart little trick to shake off this old buffalo that’s
got me up a tree.”

“I’ve tried my best to coax him away, Lanky,” said Frank, starting to
walk off; “but he won’t budge an inch, and it’s no use.”

“Hold on, Frank; sure now, you wouldn’t be for leaving me here in this
fix, would you, and me that’s stood by you through thick and thin many
a time? If I had to perch up here long my bones’d be too sore for me to
enter any race for a month of Sundays. Where are you going, Frank?”

“To hunt up the farmhouse, and see if I can’t get Mr. Hobson to come to
the rescue. I’ll be back before a great while,” was what Frank called
out.

“Bless you for a true chum, Frank, I knew you wouldn’t leave me in the
lurch; and here’s hoping that you find the farmer at home all right, or
his man. Oh! laugh all you want to, Bones, but it isn’t so funny when
you’re the frog that gets hit by the stones. Just you try it once and
see.”

Time passed slowly to the beleaguered runner. He even complained of
feeling a little cold, and talked to Bones about supper as though he
began to fear that, after all, he would have to camp there in that tree
the whole night.

“If you have to stay there, and it comes to the worst,” Bones had
assured him; “mebbe now I might be able to throw a package of grub to
you from the top of the fence here. I’m the boss thrower, you know,
Lanky. Many a time I’ve got a runner at the home plate by lifting a fly
I caught away out when I was playing left field for Ben Allison.”

“There comes Frank now,” the prisoner of the tree exclaimed, he having
a greater range of vision than the boy who sat astride of the rail
fence.

“Got the farmer trailing along, I hope?” ventured Bones.

“Well, if he has, I don’t see him yet,” replied the other dejectedly.
“Reckon I’m just a-goin’ to sit here all night.”

“I can get a squint at Frank now, Lanky; and, say, what’s he got in his
hand?”

“Looks like a clothesline to me, Bones,” replied the other, without
much enthusiasm in his voice. “I thought Frank was smarter than that.
If he thinks he’s going to lasso this big bull with that rope and hold
him even one minute he’s sure got another guess coming to him.”

“Now, you leave all that to Frank,” advised the other. “You’ve been
goin’ with him long enough to know that he’s smart about getting up
schemes; yes, and carryin’ ’em out, too. Wait and see what he says,
Lanky, before you decide about eatin’ your supper on a limb.”

Frank came hurrying along and just as Lanky had said, he was carrying
what seemed to be a coiled clothesline, for the rope was certainly made
of cotton and seemed rather thin at that.

“Where’s Farmer Hobson, Frank?” asked the boy on the limb.

“Gone with a load of stuff to Columbia, and won’t be home till late
to-night,” came the reply, as Frank arrived opposite the spot where the
determined bull kept watch and ward over his prize.

“And hasn’t he got a man?” wailed Lanky, as though he began to feel
that everything was conspiring against him.

Frank went on calmly undoing the rope foot by foot, and testing it.

“Yes; but he’s sick on his back with lumbago, and couldn’t hobble out
here; so I told him not to try, and that I’d find some way to get you
out, all right.”

“I’m surprised at you, Frank,” ventured Lanky, wishing for information.

“In what way?” asked the other, coolly, once more starting to loop up
the rope, as though getting ready to throw it.

“Why, even if you manage to get that rope over his horns it won’t hold
a minute. Look at his broad chest and heavy shoulders, would you? Why,
that bull could snap such a little rope five times over.”

“I reckon he could, Lanky,” Frank went on, laughing; “but you see, I
don’t expect to use it on him as a lasso. Fact is, I mean it for you!”

“What’s that; goin’ to get it over my neck, and yank me out of this
tree! I sure like that kind of talk. It shows a kind heart; but my neck
is stretched as long as it can go; so you’ll have to think up some
other dodge, Frank.”

“Listen,” said Frank, seriously. “If I throw this loop to you, or get
Bones here to try it, do you think you could grab hold of it?”

“Try me!” said Lanky, laconically.

“Well, when you get the end, go as far as you can in your tree, and tie
the doubled rope there. Afterwards I’m going to fasten the other end
to this tree we’ve got on _our_ side of the fence. Understand now what
I mean, Lanky? You’ve got to do the tight-rope act; and come out of
there by the aerial route, with Mr. Bull prancing under your heels, but
unable to reach you. How do you like the scheme?”




CHAPTER III

THE GYPSY CARAVAN


“It’s a screamer!” exclaimed Lanky, immediately.

“What I call a peach!” ejaculated Bones Shadduck. “Say, what was I
tellin’ you, Lanky; didn’t I say our Frank would get up a plan that was
goin’ to beat anything you ever heard tell of? Oh! hurry up, and let’s
get things started.”

“Well, suppose then you take this doubled rope, which I’ve coiled up,
and see if you can land the end in the branches of Lanky’s tree.”

“And as near me as you can, Bones, remember,” advised the one most
interested; “because he’s just a-listenin’ as if he knew what we were
talkin’ about; and, if he gets half a chance, I reckon he’ll take that
same rope and wrap it all around those gold-tipped horns of his.”

So Bones, after finding how he could stand on the top of the rail
fence in a fairly steady fashion, took a survey of the situation, and
decided just what amount of effort it would require to send the end of
the doubled rope into the tree.

He started to wind up by whirling the coils around his head, after the
fashion of a cowboy about to make a cast. Then, as Lanky, becoming
impatient, begged him to make haste, Bones let fly.

His first attempt proved a failure, for the rope fell short. The bull
seemed so curious about all these actions that he came over to look at
the rope, which Bones was now dragging back in haste.

“Keep off there, you!” he called to the animal; “just go back and mind
your own business, which I take it right now is to watch Lanky yonder,”
and, as though understanding what was said, sure enough, the heavy-set
animal turned immediately, trotting back under the tree, and looking up
longingly at the imprisoned boy, while emitting a low bellow.

“Is that the best you can do, Bones?” demanded Lanky, wishing to spur
the other on; “if it is, better let Frank take a turn, because I know
he can make a longer throw than that was.”

“You wait,” answered the aroused Bones; “I can do better than that.
Just thought I ought to make a try throw first. This time I’ll put a
little more steam in it, and you get ready to grab, Lanky.”

“Right here, Bones, put her in my mitt!” called the other, holding out
his hands as though he might be a catcher behind the rubber, calling
to his slabmate how to toss them in.

Frank steadied Bones from below, so that he could feel on firmer
footing. And this time the rope, flying far out, and uncoiling as it
went, struck in among the lower branches of the tree.

“Catch hold, Lanky, quick!” cried the thrower of the lasso.

Lanky almost tumbled out of the tree in his eagerness to reach the
rope; but fortunately it had caught on a branch, and he was able to get
his hands on it.

“Now climb up, and pass it along,” called Frank.

“Yes,” added Bones, “there’s a hunky-dory place up yonder to tie it to,
after you’ve doubled it like Frank said. That’s it, Lanky; put the rope
around there, you know.”

Lanky understood and fastened the knotted end of the line to the upper
branch of the tree--an especially strong one it was, too.

Afterwards Frank climbed the second tree beyond the rail fence; and as
Lanky had tied his end of the doubled clothesline to an upper limb,
Frank did the same.

There now stretched a taut doubled line, with a downward slant, from
the tree under which the bull waited patiently for his prey to drop.

“Looks good to me!” announced Bones, as he changed his position on the
fence so as to get a better view of the coming “stunt” of the thin chum.

“Course it does,” grumbled Lanky, as he prepared to trust himself to
the slender line. “Think I’m a featherweight, do you, just because I’m
thin; but bones weigh a heap, just you remember. What if she breaks,
Frank?”

“It will hold you, all right, Lanky,” replied the other, confidently;
“I tested the single line with my weight and it stood firm. Now that
we’ve made it double, honestly, I believe it would hold even Buster
Billings.”

As the boy mentioned was considered the fattest scholar, without
exception, in any one of the three high schools, such positive
information should have gone far toward giving Lanky confidence.

“All right, here I come, then. Phew! I hope the blooming old thing
doesn’t give enough to let me down so he can poke his horns into me.”

That was really the only thing that Frank feared in the least. It
was with more or less concern, therefore, that he saw Lanky get in
readiness to start sliding along the rope. As this had a pretty good
slant from the lone tree’s upper branches, he need not do any climbing,
but just work his way along, and remember to hold on with a firm grip,
no matter what happened.

“Wow! there he comes!” exclaimed Bones Shadduck, as the thin boy let
go his hold above, and launched himself upon his aerial passage.

It was a strange sight indeed, with Lanky moving slowly but steadily
down that doubled rope, and the prancing bull keeping directly
underneath him, giving vent to all sorts of queer noises as he even
reared up on his short hind legs and tried to reach Lanky’s long,
dangling figure with his horns.

“Thank goodness, the rope holds!” cried Bones, who had been rather
doubtful of its strength all along.

“And it doesn’t seem to sag so very much,” added Frank, mentally
figuring how close bull and boy might come before Lanky found shelter
across the line of fence. “It’s going to be a close shave, I’m afraid,
though, Lanky; can’t you pull up your legs some; he might get you when
you’re near the fence?”

“Sure he can,” remarked Bones. “You know what sort of gymnast Lanky is.
Watch him put his feet in his pockets now.”

Of course, the dangling boy did not go quite that far, because in the
first place he had no such thing as a pocket in his running togs, and
even if he had, he felt no inclination to carry out the suggestion of
humorous Bones. But he did throw one leg up over the line, and this
took his form just so much further away from the ugly horns below.

In this fashion then Lanky passed over the fence, and was safe. The
baffled bull seemed to know that his intended prey had escaped him.
Perhaps he felt that the boy on the fence must be laughing at him. At
any rate he made a sudden, wicked lunge in the direction of Bones, and
that worthy, being taken by surprise, might have suffered if he had not
allowed himself to simply fall in a heap on the ground outside of the
rails.

Bang! came the rushing bull against the fence, which quivered before
the onset, and might even have given way, only that it had been stoutly
built to withstand such rushes.

“Bah! don’t you wish you could?” jeered Bones, struggling to his feet,
his fright a thing of the past; and he made a face at the bull, that
was just two feet away, although separated by that barrier of stout
rails.

“How are you, Lanky; all right?” asked Frank, as the long figure of the
rescued chum appeared in sight, dropping down out of the second tree.

“Well, I seem to be all here,” replied the other, with a broad smile;
“but when that old beast was trying to reach me, I began to think he’d
have my shins scraped, more or less. That was a bully good thought of
yours, Frank. Queerest ride I ever took in all my life. Talk to me
about toboggan slides--why, they’re not in it with a rope run, and a
jumpin’ bull underneath.”

“Who’ll get the rope, Frank?” asked Bones.

“You can, if you feel like it,” replied the other, with a smile.

“Excuse me, but it’d have to be something more’n an old clothesline
that would tempt me to go into that field again,” Bones declared.

“Well,” Frank went on, “fortunately there’s no need of anyone going
right now, because I told the farmer’s wife what I meant to do to get
Lanky out of there, and she said to leave the rope where it was. Her
husband would get it later on, after the bull was in the barn for the
night.”

“Let me have five minutes’ rest after that little slide, Frank,”
entreated Lanky, “and then I’ll be ready to join you both in another
run across to the road. It must have been the strain that told on me.
Right now my heart is beating like fun.”

“Sure thing,” assented Bones; “mine is, too, because I thought that
black beast was going to get me when he ducked my way with a whoop.
Say, ain’t he just the limit now, fellows? Old Hobson’ll get in trouble
with that critter some fine day. He ought not to keep such a wicked
animal around.”

“Oh! well,” Frank remarked, “you know we really had no business going
through his pasture. Even if you got hurt, your father couldn’t have
recovered damages if Hobson chose to take it to the courts. When you
trespass, you lose your rights up to a certain extent. How about it
now, Lanky, feel like you could stand a grilling run again?”

“I’m as right as ever, Frank; and now that the whole thing’s over I’m
ready to laugh at it as hard as the next one. It sure was the queerest
thing that ever happened to me. A dog had me treed once--a bulldog that
guarded an apple tree belonging to our next-door neighbor. Our apples
were good, you know, but his seemed to be just the right kind I was
lookin’ for.”

“What happened?” asked Bones.

“Why, the neighbor came along and called the dog off,” Lanky replied,
with one of his customary shrugs; “me to the woodshed as soon as my dad
heard about it, and--well, what’s the use saying anything more? I never
like to think of that same interview, give you my word, fellows.”

They had by now started off again. Lanky seemed to show no signs of
having suffered because of the strain he had just gone through. These
thin, wiry boys are able to stand a tremendous lot of knocking about,
without feeling any bad effects. Had it been Buster Billings, now, who
was a prisoner in that tree, they could never have effected his release
in the way Lanky was saved. His weight would have caused any line to
sag, so that the poor fellow would have been an easy mark for the
butting horns of the bull.

After leaving the farm of Mr. Hobson behind the runners found that
they would have to pass over some more dubious ground. Frank realized
that unless some better course was found than this it would be the
height of folly for a runner to think he could save time by leaving the
firm road, and taking to the cross country. And being a good, square
sportsman he determined to do all he could to warn the Clifford and
Bellport fellows against any such attempt. Still, they had the same
privilege of examining the ground that the Columbia High boys did, and
if it struck one of them that he cared to take chances that was really
his own affair.

“There’s the road, fellows!” said Frank, after they had ploughed
through a lot of soft ground, and were thoroughly disgusted with it all.

“Oh! happy day!” sang Lanky. “When you hear of me trying to take a
short-cut on that same Marathon race, just engage a room for me at the
insane asylum; won’t you?”

“But looky there, what under the sun have we got now, boys?” called out
Bones, who happened just then to be a little in the lead of the runners.

“Wagons, hey?” exclaimed Lanky; “and all the colors of the rainbow at
that. Jupiter whiz! did you ever see such a gay crowd? Say, Frank,
these must be the gypsies that hang around Budd’s Corners every other
summer; don’t you think so?”

“Just what they are,” came the reply; “but there’s twice as many this
year as ever before.”

“And would you see the fine wagons they’ve got along?” remarked Bones,
as they stood upon the lower fence rail to watch the caravan pass.
“Most of ’em are fitted up, they tell me, like the cabin of a boat,
with sleeping bunks and a cooking range. I’d just like to say that one
of those wagons must be worth a heap of money. How do they make it all,
Frank, do you think?” and he lowered his voice, for the head of the
procession was now very close by, and the boy did not wholly like the
looks of the swarthy men who drove those wagons along toward the first
of the line.

“They do a lot of horse trading,” Frank replied; “and are mighty smart
at it, too. The ordinary farmer has little chance against a gypsy in
a trade; though he may think he’s some pumpkins, as they say. Those
horses are a pretty good lot, let me tell you, fellows,” as the wagons
began to pass by.

There must have been at least ten of them, all told, mostly new ones,
with all the comforts known to modern wagon travelers. The boys watched
the procession pass with considerable interest, and from the way the
gypsies stared at them they excited almost as much curiosity, on
account of their running clothes, as the gypsies did in them. And it
was while they stood in this way that Lanky suddenly began to show a
strange excitement, turning toward his chums with a puzzled look on his
face.

“Say, perhaps you fellows didn’t see that little girl trying to attract
our attention in one of those vans?” he remarked, with more or less
eagerness. “The old gypsy woman pulled her down in a big hurry, but,
Frank--Bones, I sure believe that she was holding out her baby hands to
us, like she wanted to ask us to help her!”




CHAPTER IV

A MYSTERY OF THE WAGON


The other two boys looked at Lanky curiously, as if to see whether he
could be in earnest, or only joking. Lanky was inclined, at times, to
show an odd streak of humor, as Frank had long since found out.

But the long-legged chap certainly looked serious enough just then. His
eyes followed the line of gypsy vans eagerly. If there was anything
that appealed to Lanky Wallace it was a bit of mystery, and he had been
known to bother his head for days and weeks over some trifling affair
that the ordinary schoolboy would dismiss from his mind with a laugh.

“I tell you she did just what I said, fellows,” he persisted in saying;
“held out her hands to me; and if ever there was a look of fear on a
little girl’s face, I saw it on hers!”

“Oh, rats!” exploded practical Bones; “you’ve been reading some silly
stuff about gypsies taking the children of rich people and holding ’em
for a ransom. That might have happened years ago, or perhaps in Old
England; but if you think it could to-day, and in America, why, you’re
away off your base, Lanky. Reckon you ought to have been born about the
year sixteen hundred and seven, instead of in this age.”

Frank, while doubting whether there could be anything in what seemed
to be a far-fetched idea of the tall chum, was not so much inclined to
“josh” him as Bones had been.

He and Lanky had known of a case where the haunting face of a young
tramp had kept both of them guessing for a long spell, and the
persistence of the tall chum had in the end brought the truth to light.
And through that same dogged perseverance a long-lost son and brother
was restored to his family; while Lanky had made a good friend in
rosy-cheeked Dora, the pretty sister of Will Baxter.

“Tell me, Lanky,” he said, now, in as serious a tone as he could
command, “was the child fair-haired, or a brunette; because, you know,
all gypsies are dark?”

Lanky made a wry face, but stood to his guns.

“Sure, she did have a dark little phiz, Frank, that’s right; but, then,
I reckon it’s the easiest thing in the world to change the skin, and
dye the hair. Why, haven’t you had your hands turn brown with the
juice of fresh walnuts every fall, when we laid in our winter stock,
and hulled ’em? ’Course you have, and so has Bones here. I tell you,
fellows, I’ll never get that look out of my head. If I wake up in the
night, bet you a cookey I’ll think of it right away.”

Frank knew the obstinacy of his chum only too well. There never was
a boy who would persist more in a thing than Lanky Wallace, though
when he had the truth absolutely shown to him he would give up, and
admit that he was wrong. Some people who did not fancy Lanky called
him pig-headed and stubborn, but those who were better able to judge
understood the difference between stubbornness and firmness.

“Well,” said Frank, “if that’s the way you feel about it, Lanky,
there’s only one thing to be done. To satisfy yourself, you ought to
see the child again. When you find out that she is only a little brown
gypsy, sure enough, you’ll sleep easy again.”

At that Lanky smiled.

“I don’t know whether you’re just kidding or not, Frank,” he said;
“but I’d just made up my mind to do that same, right now--follow the
caravan, and try to get another glance at that face.”

“Well, you do rush things to beat the band!” ejaculated Bones. “We
came out on this run to see how the cut-off might be, and to get a
point on what we could do over the course; but seems to me running has
been about the last on the list with the lot of us to-day. There was
that adventure with the bull; and now here’s Lanky gone daffy over the
brown face of a baby girl, that just happened to look sad at him after
getting a spanking from her ma! Frank, do we go with him, or head off
for ourselves right here?”

“Oh, suit yourselves, fellows!” said Lanky, quickly, for he was very
touchy, and ready to resent anything like a favor grudgingly bestowed.
“Just leave me alone and I’ll show up later.”

Frank, however, realized that somehow his chum was worked up over
the matter more than he could remember having seen him for a long
time. Perhaps it was the fact that his nerves had been shaken during
his recent affair with the bull. Then again, there might be a slight
possibility that Lanky was right with regard to the child.

“Oh, that’s all right, Lanky!” he remarked, soothingly. “I’m going
where you lead, and if Bones objects he knows what he can do. Not that
I take much stock in your kidnapping idea, because such things happen
only once in a long time nowadays.”

“But you admit, Frank, that it could be; don’t you?” demanded the
other, not at all shaken in his belief.

“Well, yes, there might be about one chance in a hundred, Lanky,” Frank
replied.

“And I’m taking the hundredth chance,” said the other, doggedly, as he
started off after the gypsy caravan, which had vanished entirely from
view around a bend in the road while the three runners were holding
this short conversation among themselves.

They sighted it again as soon as they had turned the curve in the road.
As if by mutual consent Frank and Bones had fallen back, and allowed
Lanky to have the post of honor in the van.

“If she does it again, Lanky,” remarked Bones, jeeringly, “just you
give us the high sign; when we’ll jump in, and clear up the whole gypsy
tribe, rescue the kidnapped princess, carry her home in triumph and
receive a cool million or so from her happy dad, as a reward for our
heroic achievement!”

“Oh! splash!” was all Lanky sent back over his shoulder, as he ran
steadily on at that telling jog-trot that seemed never to tire the
runner.

They rapidly overtook the caravan, for the horses were not trying to
make any speed, having come a long distance, it might be, since sun-up;
and, besides, the drivers knew they were within a few miles of the
place where, once in so often, they made camp for several days, or a
week at a time.

Lanky paid no attention to the rear wagons, but passed alongside and
kept pushing on. He had eyes only for the most gorgeous van in the
whole procession; since it had been at the side window of this he had
seen the face that, somehow, appealed to his sensitive heart.

The door at the rear of the high wagon was almost wholly closed, Lanky
noticed as he came along, though once he really thought he saw a face,
surrounded by coils of black hair, in the opening, which could only
belong to a gypsy woman.

He kept his eyes fastened on the side window, for he knew that his two
skeptical chums were waiting for a sign and would be apt to decide one
way or another, depending on what was to be seen. And, sure enough, a
face did appear there, that of a child in the bargain, and a girl, too.
But she simply stared at the odd costumes of the three boy runners,
and seemed to hold them in the scorn a true gypsy child feels for the
house-dweller.

Lanky was grievously disappointed. It seemed that he had been mistaken
after all, and, always willing to “take his medicine,” as he called it,
he prepared to accept the expected chaffing of Bones in a good spirit.
Had that ended the matter, doubtless Lanky would have put it out of his
mind for good and all, but as it happened there was a little sequel,
and it is often upon these trifles that great events depend.

The three boys had passed the gorgeous van, and were pursuing their way
along toward the leading wagon, when a sound came to their ears that
was rather significant under the circumstances.

It was certainly very like the cry of a frightened child, quickly
suppressed, and yet coming from the identical van toward which Lanky
had drawn the attention of his chums.

All of them turned their heads to look, but only to meet the surly
frown of the dusky gypsy who drove the pair of fine horses attached to
the wagon, which, from its appearance, might shelter the queen of the
roving tribe.

Frank knew that for Lanky to make any attempt to interfere with the
gypsies at such a time would be the height of folly.

“Go on; don’t stop, Lanky!” he exclaimed, ready to push the other
onward if he manifested a stubborn disposition, as though inclined to
investigate.

“But, didn’t you hear it?” demanded the tall fellow, irresolutely.

“Move along there!” said Bones, as if in disgust; “why, whatever’s
coming over our bold Lanky Wallace, when even the squalling of a gypsy
kid gets on his nerves?”

“Go on, Lanky,” said Frank, in earnest tones; “you’ll only make
trouble, and get in a fight, if you try anything here. Wait a while,
and perhaps you can find out all you want without having a row.”

Realizing that Frank was right, as he generally was, Lanky again
started on; but after passing the head of the gypsy caravan he
slackened his pace enough to let his chum come alongside.

“You heard that, too; didn’t you, Frank?” he asked, eagerly.

“Of course I did, and so did Bones, because you know he spoke of a
gypsy kid crying,” returned Frank, himself more than a little puzzled
by now.

“It wasn’t the one at the window, because she was older, and besides,
you saw her stare at us,” Lanky continued, in his old argumentative
way. “No, sir; that one who started to scream was a smaller child, and
must have been the same I saw before. Didn’t I say she held out her
baby hands to me? And now, when she begins to cry, that old gypsy crone
shuts her off quick. Frank, honest Injun now, I wouldn’t be surprised
if she just took her by the throat and choked her to keep her still!”

“Oh, come, now, Lanky, you’re letting that wild imagination of yours
just run away with you!” remarked Frank; but the other noticed that
there was a serious expression on the face of his chum at the same time.

“You more’n half believe it yourself, Frank Allen, and you don’t dare
deny it!” he exclaimed, heatedly.

“Tell me about that, will you?” Bones could be heard saying to himself,
as he ran along just behind them, and evidently “listening for all he
was worth,” as Lanky remarked later on; for despite his skepticism
Bones was himself beginning to feel a little touch of the fever that
was working on Lanky.

“Only this far,” Frank went on to say, in response to the accusation of
his chum; “there might be something in what you’ve got on your brain.
But the chances are ten to one, Lanky, that in the end it’ll prove to
be only a little gypsy girl who has been bad and spanked by her ma.”

“Oh, now it’s only ten to one; is it?” demanded the other, quickly;
“and a little while back the odds were a hundred to one. Shows that
you’re falling to my idea pretty rapid, Frank. Now, I’ve been in gypsy
camps heaps of times and so have both of you. Will you promise to give
me a straight answer, if I ask you a question?”

“You know I will, Lanky,” said Frank.

“If it’s nothing personal, I’ll promise, too,” came from the cautious
Bones, who may have had a few secrets of his own to which he did not
wish to confess.

“Did you ever hear a gypsy child cry, either one of you?” demanded
Lanky, with a triumphant look on his thin face, as though he felt that
this question was what he would call a “clincher.”

Frank paused a brief time as if for reflection.

“I never did!” he finally replied, with emphasis.

“How about you, Bones?” pursued Lanky.

“Oh, well, I don’t remember about it,” replied the other; “but then,
what does that prove? I reckon they do yell when they get a lickin’,
just the same as other kids; only we never happened to be there when
the old lady’s slipper was getting in its work.”

But Frank saw the point Lanky was making, and appreciated it, too.

“I’ve been told,” the tall boy went on to say, “that gypsies bring
up their children about like the old Injuns used to do. They learn
when little kids never to show what they feel. Never heard of a red
Injun boy weepin’; did you, Bones? Well, I guess nobody ever did; and
gypsies, they’re about in the same class.”

“Well, and even if that’s right, Lanky, how do we know but what the
old queen was givin’ the baby its lesson in keepin’ from cryin’? Sure,
somethin’ shut the noise off right quick, I acknowledge that. But you
just can’t make me believe in any silly yarn like a stolen child, and
such stuff. Bah! next thing you’ll be lookin’ for a strawberry mark on
my left arm, and tryin’ to make out I was changed in the cradle.”

But Lanky would not take any notice of these slurs. Frank could see
that he was deeply impressed with the idea that the little dark-faced
girl at the window of the big van had actually appealed to him for help
in her childish way. And, knowing Lanky as he did, Frank felt positive
that this would not be the last of the affair.

“He’ll go to their camp and make trouble sooner or later,” Frank
was saying to himself, as the three runners neared the outskirts of
Columbia; “and I suppose it’s up to me to stick to a chum through thick
and thin. Perhaps he’ll be cured if only he can see the kid and talk
with the mother. However, I’ve got to back Lanky up, no matter what
wild scheme he may hatch in that brain of his. Because he’s a good
fellow, and one of the best chums I’ve ever had.”

And so the run over the course of the Marathon race that was to be a
leading feature of the athletic meet had been productive of several
thrilling incidents that would not soon be forgotten by the three lads
who were chiefly concerned.




CHAPTER V

ON THE CAMPUS GREEN


“Come, brace up, Lanky; ’tisn’t time for your funeral yet!”

“Why, we haven’t even had the preliminary trial races yet to see who’s
going to be chosen to represent Columbia High in the big athletic meet,
and here’s one of our best Marathon boys getting cold feet!”

A group of lads stood around on the campus during recess, shortly
before noon, comparing notes about the chances their school would have
when up against the crack athletes of Clifford and Bellport.

Buster Billings had been the first speaker, the fat boy who has often
figured in these stories of Columbia High, while the second one who was
trying to cheer Lanky up, boy-fashion, by giving him a “dig,” was Jack
Comfort, reckoned the best all-round shot-putter the school had ever
known.

In the group were several others who have been familiar figures in
the past. The good-looking boy who took no part in the conversation,
seeming to be very quiet, was Ralph Langworthy. Once he had been known
as Ralph West; and Frank Allen had been instrumental in solving a great
mystery that hung over his head, thus finding his own true mother for
the new chum.

Then there were Paul Bird, a very close chum of Frank’s; Bones
Shadduck, Tom Budd, a boy who could never keep still, but must be
turning hand-springs, or standing on his head, half of the time; Jack
Eastwick, the great doubter of the school, who should have been named
Thomas, everybody declared; “Jonsey,” who once upon a time gave out in
a boat race, and put Columbia in a hole; and last of all “Red” Huggins,
whose faculty for getting his tongue twisted when excited often
resulted in queer expressions.

Lanky Wallace had been unusually grave all morning, and the boys
noticed it, too. Of course, none of them knew what was ailing the tall
student, for Frank alone was in the secret. And most of the talk they
were flinging at Lanky now was done for the evident purpose of “getting
a rise” from him. If he could be stirred up to give them some heated
back talk they might find out what ailed him.

Truth to tell, some of them were feeling a little uneasy. Columbia
would evidently have need of all her reserve stock of talent this
spring in order to come out ahead in the various trials of skill with
her bitter rivals. And Lanky was reckoned one of the shining lights in
many a contest where agility and power of endurance counted.

“Cold feet, nothing!” the tall boy flung back at Jack Comfort. “When
that happens you’ll find the moon made of green cheese, boys. Fact is,
I’m just a little bothered to-day about somethin’ that’s got nothin’ to
do with the athletic meet.”

“Been eating some grub that’s given you indigestion, p’raps?” suggested
Jonsey.

“For goodness sake, Lanky, don’t get out of trim now; we need you
the worst way, if we expect to wipe up the ground with those up and
down-river fellows,” implored Paul Bird.

“That’s just what,” broke in Bones Shadduck; “ever since Lanky got
treed by that bull he’s been in the dumps. For once he ran up against
somethin’ he couldn’t beat, and it’s made him sore.”

The boys laughed, for they had all heard the story to the last
particular.

“Well, all I know,” remarked Buster Billings, pathetically; “is that
Clifford is just boiling over with confidence. I was up there last
night to a little spread, and you never heard such talk in your life.
Why, they feel dead sure they’re going to walk all over us this time.”

“Will they?” observed Jack Eastwick, in his customary sarcastic way,
which had long ago become a settled habit with him; “maybe, maybe not.
We’ve got some pretty husky specimens right here in old Columbia,
and when the time comes we expect to pull down a few of those plums
ourselves.”

“Bully for you, Jack!” cried Buster, patting the speaker encouragingly.

“I reckon I know what ails Lanky!” ventured Jonsey, who had a little
bone to pick with the other, and lost no opportunity to give him a sly
poke.

“Then tell us, or we’ll ride you on a rail!” threatened Jack Comfort.

“Dare I, Lanky?” asked Jonsey, not wanting to go too far.

“Sure. Just tell everything you know, or think, Jonsey. It won’t take
long,” was the answering shot that came back.

“Well, the fact of the matter is, Lanky’s best girl’s gone back on him,
because I saw her out riding with that new city fellow that came to
Columbia a few months ago. He’s as fine a looker as you ever saw, the
girls think, and pretty, rose-cheeked Dora Baxter seems to just take to
Mr. Walter Ackerman.”

Jonsey had kept one eye out for an avenue of escape in case Lanky made
a dive in his direction; he also counted on the others to hold the tall
boy back, so as to give him a chance to escape; for he never could do
it by simply running. But contrary to his expectations, Lanky made no
offensive move. On the other hand, he even laughed in a strained way.

“That’s where you’re away off, Jonsey,” Lanky declared. “It’s a matter
of mighty small difference to me whether Dora Baxter chooses to keep
company with Walter Ackerman or not, because we’ve had a spat, and
don’t speak when we pass by. And I want to ask you all right now,
please keep her name out of any conversation you may happen to have
about me after this.”

When Lanky spoke in that way they knew he meant it, and there was not
one in all that group of his schoolmates who would venture to offend
him by declining to regard his request.

“Well,” said Buster Billings, as if ready to give the puzzle up, “if
none of the things we have mentioned is what’s ailing you, Lanky, for
goodness sake, whatever it is, get it out of your system as quick
as you can. You’re not the same kind of fellow we’re used to seein’
around. When you show up you give us all a cold shiver. Honest, now, it
makes me think of spooks, graveyards and all that stuff just to look at
you, Lanky.”

“Oh! does it?” jeered the other; “if that’s the case I’ll get a move
on and step over to my chum, Frank Allen, who’s just come out of the
classroom yonder. But before I go, fellows, just make your minds easy
about me. If I am feeling sort of down in the mouth and serious-like
just now, it isn’t going to affect my athletic stunts one little bit.
I’m as fit as ever I was to run the race of my life. Frank knows, and
he’ll tell you that same thing.”

“Are you?” said the doubter, Jack Eastwick; “maybe, maybe not. Time
alone will tell that. Saturday the preliminary trials come off, and
then we’ll get a pointer on what all our boys can do.”

But Lanky did not stop to listen to the “croaker.” Jack often threw
cold water on everything with which he had any connection. It was
very discouraging, to be sure, and more than once his schoolmates had
threatened to hold him under the pump if he didn’t quit harping in that
disagreeable way. For a little while Jack would manage to reform, only
to break out later on; for habits are deep seated.

Apparently Lanky was more than eager to see Frank, judging from the way
he hurried over to the other, as he issued from the school, stopping to
speak to the old janitor, who was known among the boys as “Soggy.”

“Hello, Lanky!” was Frank’s greeting, as he eyed the other curiously;
“seems to me I haven’t run across you this whole day up to now. But
then I came late, as I had an errand to do for the professor, you see.”

“Yes, and it just happened that I wanted to get in touch with you,
too,” remarked the tall boy, as he thrust his arm through Frank’s and
started him walking so as to leave the janitor behind.

“Soggy was telling me that some of the boys had started to playing
practical jokes on him again,” Frank remarked. “He’s got a notion that
it must be that Bill Klemm and his cronies, Watkins Kline and Asa
Barnes.”

“They’re sure a bad lot,” commented Lanky, drily. “Ever since Lef
Sellers was hustled off to military school by his dad because he made
such a racket in town that the authorities threatened to send him to
the reform school, Bill has tried to fill his shoes as the town bully,
and bad boy generally.”

“And some say he’s even worse than Lef ever was,” added Frank; “but see
here, Lanky, what’s up?”

“Now please tell me why you think anything is?” demanded the other.

“Well,” Frank went on, with a good-natured laugh, “I can see it in your
face that you’ve got something to tell me. You may fool some of the
fellows, but you can’t me, old chum. Open up and let’s hear what it is.
Anything connected with the big meet we’re all talking so much about?”

“Nope,” replied Lanky, tersely.

“I hope you haven’t been running across the trail of that Walter
Ackerman, and doing what you once threatened to do, Lanky?”

The other sneered at this.

“Don’t see any scratches or bruises on my phiz; do you, Frank?” he
remarked; “and as I calculate that Walter is something of a scrapper
himself, I couldn’t polish him off without showing the signs; could I?
Shucks! forget him, won’t you? If Dora chooses that city chap before
me, she’s at liberty to do it. I’m not going a foot out of my way to
please her and make her think she’s the only one in Columbia worth
looking at. There are plenty of girls.”

But however brave his words, Lanky did not deceive the keen eyes
of Frank Allen, who happened to know what a tremendous hold the
red-cheeked Dora had upon the affections of the tall boy.

“Well, let’s change the subject, Lanky,” he said. “You didn’t deny it
when I remarked that _something_ was exciting you. What is it? Anything
that concerns me?”

“That’s just according to whether you mean to keep your word, and
join me in my little look through that gypsy camp this afternoon or
to-morrow morning,” was the quick response of the other.

“Oh that’s what ails you; is it?” exclaimed Frank, stopping to look
once more into the eager face of his chum. “Why this new outburst?
Have you heard anything more about that little girl you _thought_
called to you, and held her hands out as if she wanted you to take her
away from a cruel prison?”

“Now you’re taking your turn at having a little fun with me, Frank,”
said Lanky, in an aggrieved tone. “But you just wait a bit. No, I
haven’t heard a single word, one way or the other, about any girl in
the gypsy camp. But, by a funny accident, I _have_ learned about a
child who was lost a month or so ago over in a Pennsylvania city; and,
Frank, it was a little girl, too!”




CHAPTER VI

MAKING PLANS


Frank looked queerly at his companion as Lanky said this.

“But, say, didn’t I hear you make a remark a minute or so ago that
there were plenty of girls?” he said; at which the other chuckled.

“That’s what you did, Frank; but then this is a different thing,” he
replied.

“Oh! is that so, Lanky?”

“Because, you see, Bones laughed at the idea of such a thing happening
in these times--as a child bein’ stolen. And when I ran across that
story in an old paper over at our house, I cut it out, just to show you
that every little while something like this does happen.”

“Have you got it along with you?” demanded Frank.

“Sure I have, and I want you to read it,” with which Lanky produced a
long slip of paper, about three columns of newspaper matter.

Frank let his eye run along it hastily; but he had a faculty for
gleaning all the points of a story almost at a glance. Some of the boys
declared that Frank Allen would make a great reporter; but then there
were many other positions in life in which he could make his mark, if
half they said of him were true.

“Well, it’s an interesting story, I see,” he remarked; “and I hope that
the poor mother, Mrs. Elverson, has found her little Effie long ago.
For I notice that this is cut from a paper that’s two months and more
old, Lanky.”

“That’s right, Frank,” the other answered, promptly.

“This account tells of how the nurse took the little girl out walking
and never turned up again,” Frank went on to say.

“Just what it does, Frank, and I know what you’ve got on your mind.”

“They traced her to the train, and she set out for another city not
far away, where the detectives lost the trail; and although a week had
gone by when this account was printed, not a single thing had they
learned. The nurse had disappeared just as if the ground had opened and
swallowed her up, this reporter says.”

“His words, just like you say, Frank,” admitted Lanky, nodding his head
encouragingly.

“But, Lanky, from start to finish of this story there isn’t a single
mention of gypsies,” Frank continued.

“Huh, not a peep, sure’s you’re born, Frank.”

“Then what makes you bring it to me to read, just as if you felt
dead sure this little dark-faced child in the gypsy van might be the
golden-haired Effie Elverson?”

“Now, hold on, Frank,” interrupted the other, with a sudden change of
front. “You know I didn’t say a word about that. Fact is, I explained
in the start I only fetched this paper for you to see that what
Bones said isn’t true. Right in these up-to-date times children _do_
disappear once in a while. Yes, and I wouldn’t put it past a gypsy
tribe to steal a little girl, and even dye her hair! Laugh, if you want
to, Frank.”

“No, I’m not laughing, Lanky,” replied the other. “To tell the honest
truth, somehow you’ve gone and got me worked up more than a little
about this business. And since I promised to help you out, if I could,
I’ll go along when you visit that gypsy camp. But we must lay our plans
first.”

“How’s that?” demanded Lanky, eagerly; for when it came to mapping out
a campaign he was always willing to yield the palm to his wide-awake
chum.

“If you go to nosing around that camp without some good reason, I’m
afraid you’ll get in a peck of trouble right away,” Frank went on,
quietly. “Those gypsies are a hot-blooded crowd, and they don’t like
being spied on. And it would be all the worse if it happened that there
was any truth in what you suspect, and the queen kept a stolen child
inside her big painted van.”

“Yes, you’re right there, Frank. What had we better do?” Lanky asked.

“I’ve been thinking that part of it over, and struck an idea that might
pan out all right,” Frank remarked.

“I’d wager it was a good one before you said a word; but put me wise,
Frank.”

“Why,” Frank began, “I remembered that the gypsies always made their
camp at Budd’s Corners every year; and I hear they’ve settled down for
a week’s stay this time at the old place. So I went over to see Mr.
Budd.”

“Yes?” Lanky observed, in what he meant to be an encouraging tone.

“I told him all about it, Lanky; and, although he laughed at your idea,
he was willing enough to make me a messenger, to do some business with
the head of the tribe, who, you must know, is the old queen herself!”

“Say, you do beat anything I ever saw for getting down to business,”
declared Lanky, proudly. “Why, that’ll just give us the chance of our
lives to see what’s inside that big van of hers; won’t it?”

“It would, if she invites us in,” replied Frank; “you see, she might
act suspicious. Perhaps she even noticed what you did when we passed
the caravan Saturday. You turned your head, and stared straight at that
particular van. I saw the driver look sour at you, just like he wanted
to tell you to mind your own business. As to getting a look-in; as Jack
Eastwick would say, ‘maybe, maybe not.’”

“But no matter,” persisted the determined Lanky, “even if we don’t
get an invite to come in, you can be talking to the old lady to beat
the band, while I just meander around the camp, and see what’s doing.
Mebbe I might even run across the little girl somewhere. Just give me a
chance to say ten words to her, and it’ll settle the business whether
she’s bein’ kept there against her will.”

“Well, when shall we go--to-night, or in the morning early before
school?” Frank went on to ask.

“I’ll see you after we get out this afternoon, and we can settle it
then,” replied the tall boy, after reflection. “You see, seems to me
the night time isn’t the best for what I want. She’s only a little mite
of a girl, and chances are she’d be asleep by then. I’d rather take the
mornin’, when she’d be wide-awake.”

“That’s where you show a wise head,” commented Frank, as they turned
once more toward the schoolhouse at the other end of the campus, where
scores of boys and girls were gathered in groups, or walking back and
forth, laughing, talking and altogether making merry.

Frank pretended not to notice, but he saw Lanky suddenly stiffen up,
and turn his head toward a certain point where a rather handsome,
though proud-looking, young fellow was sauntering with a very pretty
girl, who had just come to high school that year.

Of course this latter was the fickle Dora, about whom so much had
been said, and who was surely pretty enough to turn the head of even
a plain, sensible fellow like Lanky Wallace. And the boy could be no
other than the “city fellow,” Walter Ackerman, toward whom half the
maids in Columbia were friendly disposed, since he certainly was the
best-looking boy in town.

Just then was heard a great shouting from the basement and a crowd of
boys came trooping forth, laughing uproariously.

“There’s Bill Klemm and his bunch, with a few decent fellows in the
bargain,” remarked Frank. “Soggy is having a fierce time with them
right now. He threatens to complain to Professor Tyson Parke if they
keep going on as they are; and you know, when good, old Soggy says
that, he must be pretty well rattled, because he does hate to see the
boys punished.”

“There he comes out, Frank, and he looks as mad as a wet hen,” remarked
Lanky, glad to have his attention turned from the sight of Dora walking
with the good-looking newcomer in Columbia; perhaps Lanky may have
begun to fear that it had been partly his fault that unlucky quarrel
had come about; but he would never admit it now, since she had taken
to teasing him by openly encouraging the attentions of a fellow he was
jealous about.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if that Bill Klemm had been smoking again in
the basement,” Frank suggested. “You know it’s against the rules; but
little he cares for that. Some fine day they’ll be setting the school
afire.”

“Yes,” went on Lanky, “and then good-bye to Bill Klemm, just the
same as we got rid of Lef Sellers. It’ll have to be a skip-out for
Bill, though, because his folks haven’t got the cash to send him to a
military academy to get the training he needs.”

“Here comes Minnie Cuthbert and my sister, Helen; and they look like
they wanted to speak to us, Lanky,” remarked Frank.

Two very attractive girls hurried up. One was Frank’s only sister, of
whom his chums, Ralph Langworthy and Paul Bird, were both very fond.
The other was a lively girl, whom Frank himself had taken to all the
class dances, singing schools, as well as church choir meetings, for a
long time.

The deposed town bully, Lef Sellers, had once hoped to be Minnie
Cuthbert’s first choice, and the fact that Frank had stepped in between
had been the main cause of his enmity toward our hero.

“It isn’t true; is it, Lanky?” demanded Minnie, as they came up. “He
didn’t throw you over a tree, and then pound you with his hoofs as you
lay on the ground?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” demanded Frank; but at the same time
he smiled and thus betrayed his knowledge.

“Why, some of the boys have been telling us the greatest stories you
ever heard, all about that terrible beast Farmer Hobson has out at his
place. They say he chased Lanky around a tree in the pasture, and with
his horns just tossed him--well, one said the tree was forty feet over,
but Jack Eastwick modified it and called it thirty. But even that is a
high jump for anyone to make!”

At that Frank exploded with laughter, and even Lanky grinned.

“Say, aren’t they the limit, now, giving the girls all that taffy?”
the latter remarked. “I did meet with the farmer’s bull, Minnie, and
he chased me around a tree, all right, because I couldn’t sprint as
well as Frank and Bones, being too far from the fence at the time.
So I climbed that tree. And in the end they got a rope to me, which I
fastened to a high limb, and went hand over hand, till I was over the
fence and out. And now they all say I’ve got to enter the athletic meet
as the champion tight-rope walker, and performer on the high trapeze.”

Just then the bell rang for school to begin, and laughing at Lanky’s
good-natured description of his wonderful adventure, the girls set out
on a run toward the entrance of the fine building of which Columbia
people were so proud.




CHAPTER VII

THE BENEFITS OF DISCIPLINE


“Fire!”

The dreadful cry is never heard without a wave of fear. And in a
crowded school it must always strike terror to the hearts of every
child, young and old. Yet that was what came floating in through the
open windows, as the droning of pupils reciting ceased for a brief time
between classes.

Fortunately, Professor Tyson Parke, the principal of the high school,
had always insisted on the most rigid fire drill. Nobody ever knew when
this was going to be sprung on them, for the one object was to make the
pupils feel that there need never be any fear of a holocaust; since
ample fire-escape stairways, iron ones along the outside of the great
building, had been provided.

And so, on this afternoon, after that first spasm of alarm, some of the
more knowing among the scholars quickly decided that it must be a last
fire-drill test the principal was giving them, before the break-up for
the summer holidays. Their confidence ran to others, just as a spark
plays along a train of gunpowder. Some smiled, and even nodded their
heads in a wise fashion, as if to say they could not be deceived, and
that it was only a mock alarm after all.

The various teachers, as in duty bound, started their classes toward
the fire-escapes which had been arranged especially for their use.
There must be the utmost order preserved, for that was one of the rules
to be strictly enforced.

But the first boys and girls who came out upon the iron balconies, and
started to descend the stairways, realized that this time it was not
the old cry of “wolf!” Dense clouds of smoke seemed to be pouring out
of the basement; and Soggy was seen to be rushing here and there, as
though he had lost his head in the excitement. Returning to the school,
after going on an errand for the principal, he had discovered that a
calamity threatened Columbia, with a large percentage of her half-grown
children boxed up within those brick walls.

Down each stairway streamed the students. They had been appalled at
first, but some of the teachers, keeping their heads, had circulated
the story that it must be all a part of the principal’s plan to get
them accustomed to the idea of a fire; and that the smoke, as well as
Soggy’s wild behavior, was “make-believe.”

This was intended as a means to quiet the excited students; for the
freshman class was the first to come forth, with the sophomores next;
then the juniors, older and more seasoned; and the seniors last of all.

By the time Frank’s class issued forth, and began to hasten down the
narrow stairways, the sight was a thrilling one. Smoke was now coming
out of the basement windows, and the door, in great volume, showing
that the fire must have found a good draught there among the kindling
and coal left over from the preceding winter.

It was too bad, in one sense, that the seniors had to come out last;
for among the older boys of this class, to graduate in June of this
year, a fire-fighting organization had been built up. And even now
as they came forth, a number of the lads carried buckets, while
several had strapped on their backs chemical fire extinguishers; and
others held hand grenades, meant to be hurled into the midst of a
conflagration, which they were supposed to help put out by the liquid
and gases set free by the bursting of the receptacle.

Frank Allen had been placed in command of this detachment of
fire-fighters; for well did Professor Parke know the ability of the
boy for undertaking any work of this kind.

When Frank hastened down the iron stairway he was figuring just how
they should go about it in order to get the better of those fierce
flames, which everyone now knew must be gaining more power each minute.

Professor Parke was directing the dismissal of the scholars, who were
told to keep at least at the other end of the campus; for the firemen
of Columbia might be expected to respond speedily to the alarm bell
that was now beginning to sound its thrilling and brazen notes; and
they would want all the space available in order to work.

Soggy, the janitor, was quite beside himself. Twice he had acted as
though about to dash madly into the smoke-filled cellar, but was
restrained by some of the teachers.

Frank gave one last look around, in order to make sure that his little
company was at his back. He saw that some of the boys had white faces,
but from the way they set their teeth together, it was evident that
they meant to stand by him, no matter what happened. And that fact gave
him courage; for had the boys weakened just then, Frank could have done
nothing alone.

“It’s mostly smoke up to now, fellows!” he cried, as they drew nearer
the entrance to the cellars. “And we’ve just _got_ to get in there,
and put it out. Don’t you smell pine wood smouldering? Well, that shows
where the fire is, over in the bin where Soggy keeps the kindling. We
all ought to know every inch of this cellar, because we’ve played in
here every wet recess. Ready to follow me, now?”

“You bet we are!” called out several; for it only needs a leader in any
crisis, and hosts are ready to follow.

“Keep in a bunch,” continued Frank, coolly. “And remember, no one must
throw his hand grenade without orders. Scattered, they won’t do a bit
of good; but sent to the right spot they can knock out nearly any blaze
going. Come along, fire-fighters! We’ve just got to save good old
Columbia High!”

When the crowd of students, girls and boys, saw that dozen brave lads
boldly enter the cellar from which that pungent smoke was pouring, they
held their breath with suspense. In fact, just at that moment, besides
the crying of a few hysterical younger girls, the only sounds that
could be heard were the brazen notes of the town alarm bell, calling
the volunteer firemen to rally at the engine house.

Already people were running wildly toward the high school.

As soon as Frank, in the van of the boy fire-fighters, had entered
the cellar, he saw that the situation was not quite as bad as he had
feared. True, the smoke made their eyes sting, but through it they
could see some tongues of flame beginning to play fiercely among the
waste wood in the great bin.

He headed straight that way. Just as Frank had said, every boy ought
to know the lay of things down here. Close by was the refreshment room
where Mrs. Louden disposed of certain light luncheons during recess.
Sometimes she went home immediately after school began again, for she
had much cooking to do. Then again, she would stay until after school
was out at half-past one; to cater to those students who had not
exhausted their funds, and had a long way to go before reaching home.

On this particular day it happened she had left early; and that was why
no one had discovered the fire, which must have been smouldering quite
some time before the alarm was given by an outsider, passing the school.

Frank immediately felt renewed confidence. A man with a hose just
then could have extinguished the fire without much effort, though it
was just getting a good start. Ten minutes later--yes, even when five
minutes had elapsed--it might have proved beyond holding, and the
building be doomed.

Frank had a fire extinguisher on his back, and this he instantly set
playing upon the blaze. Two other boys, upon receiving orders from the
foreman, copied his example; while those who carried hand grenades, or
small liquid-filled receptacles, intended to put out fires that were
just beginning, began to get in their work.

“Hurrah!” they shrieked, as they saw an immediate change begin to take
place in the character of the threatening fire; “give it to the old
thing, Frank! Soak it good and plenty, fellows! We’ve got it on the
run! We’ll knock spots out of it, sure as you live. Hurrah for the
Columbia High fire brigade! Whoop-la! once more now, and all together,
boys!”

They certainly did smite that rising blaze right and left. Such a
combination of chemicals as was poured upon it was enough to discourage
almost any fire.

“We’ve got it on the run, boys!” cried the exultant Frank, as he saw
that, bit by bit, the flames had begun to jump up less fiercely, and
gave positive signs of giving up the unequal contest altogether. “Here,
who’s that down there? Red Huggins has fainted with the smoke, fellows!
Bones, you and Paul Bird carry him out! Come back again, if you can get
hold of any water, and bring buckets, so we can soak this bin from end
to end.”

The boy who had succumbed to the smoke, which he had inhaled, was
carried out of the cellar. The appearance of those who held him by
the legs and head was the signal for a gasp of horror. Then the news
was circulated that the fire was under control, and that Red had only
swooned.

Loud cheers began to arise, for everyone was wildly excited by this
time; and it could be noticed that the teachers were as vociferous as
any of the students.

Buckets of water began to arrive, and were carried in to the
fire-fighters, who dashed them upon the last spluttering remnant of the
blaze, which gave up with a final hiss.

Leaving some newcomers to continue this treatment, Frank ordered his
band out of the basement. He knew from his own feelings that they were
almost at a point where they might drop down, just as Red Huggins had.
The smoke smarted their eyes so that they were nearly blind when they
finally issued forth. And how good that pure air did seem, as they drew
it into their lungs, which had, for some little time, been filled with
smoke-laden atmosphere!

Around them pressed a dense throng. Parents had arrived in squads by
now; in fact, everyone in Columbia must be on the way there at least;
and filled with a terrible fear concerning the boys and girls whom they
knew were students under that single roof.

Cheers were rising in waves, and growing with each demonstration, led
by Professor Parke in person, who was very proud of his boys, and
would never forget how they had, in following out his exact directions
for an emergency, saved the building of Columbia High.

“Here come the fire engine and the ladder wagon, full tilt!” shouted
someone; and then the shouts broke out afresh; but now they were happy
cries.

“It’s all over! Go back home, and put away your helmets for another
day. You’ve lost your job, boys! Frank Allen and his high-school fire
brigade put it all out! Three cheers for Frank and his bunch! Everybody
yell now.”

It was the loud-voiced cheer captain who shouted these words; and it
seemed as if a thousand people joined Herman Hooker in the cheers he
called for, that made the ears of Frank Allen and his comrades burn,
even as their eyes had smarted with the smoke of the fire in the
basement of the high school.




CHAPTER VIII

LANKY’S PRIDE CONQUERS


Professor Parke asked the young fire-fighters to stay a while, after he
had given instructions that the rest of the students leave for home. As
far as possible he wished to soothe the excited condition of the crowds
that thronged around the building. And he also wished to personally
thank each and every one of those brave lads who had done such splendid
work in getting the fire under control.

The firemen of the town took matters in hand, and saw to it that there
was not the slightest chance of a stray spark being left undiscovered,
to play havoc, perhaps at night time.

They also wanted to investigate; for it seemed very queer how a blaze
could originate in the cellar when no fires were going at the time.
Some of the boys believed they could give a guess; and soon it was
being circulated far and wide that Bill Klemm and his two cronies had
been lighting matches in the basement at recess that very day, just to
provoke old Soggy.

But they seemed to have made themselves scarce. When Chief of Police
Hogg, dressed in his resplendent uniform, with a silver star gleaming
on his broad chest, called around at the several homes of the three
suspected ones late that afternoon, to make inquiries, they were not
to be found anywhere. And before long it was known that Bill, Asa
and Watkins must have run away from home, afraid that they would be
arrested. At any rate, they had been seen making fast time away, as
soon as they got out of the building, and before it was known that the
school could be saved.

The principal started making inquiries on his own account, and after
hearing what the janitor had to say, he could easily guess what had
caused the fire. Of course the three boys to blame had not intended
doing anything so terrible as to set fire to the school. They had
broken a strict rule laid down by the head, however, and must be
severely punished, when found.

“Frank,” said Professor Parke, as he joined the little group of waiting
boys, “and the rest of you, I hope you will pardon my keeping you here
so long; but I found it difficult to get away from some of the school
directors, who are bent on investigating, and taking action toward
securing the punishment of the offenders. And my dear boys, I could
not let you go without taking each one of you again by the hand and
telling you how proud I am of you all.”

There were really tears in his eyes while he spoke; and Frank knew that
if ever the principal were sincere in all his life it was just then.

Professor Parke was an almost universal favorite among the pupils of
Columbia High. Out of all the students but a small fraction found any
reason to dislike the head of the school; and, as a rule, they were
just such characters as Bill Klemm.

“Of course,” continued the head master, with a twinkle in his eye, “all
of you will be distressed, I know, to learn that we will be unable to
hold school to-morrow, because of the excitement; as well as the smoky
odor that has permeated every classroom in the building. The directors
think it would be too vivid a reminder of the thrill of to-day; and
they have instructed me to send out word that the building will not be
in use until Wednesday.”

The boys tried hard not to smile, but it was no use; for when did
the promise of an unexpected holiday bring gloom to the heart of the
average, youth, whether in the primary class, or the senior grade?

“And by the way, Soggy wishes you to come down and see him in the
basement before you go home,” the principal went on, as he dismissed
Frank and his corps of fire-fighters. “He is enthusiastic over the fact
that you mastered the blaze before the regular department arrived. Why,
he says the building would have gone, only for your prompt work. After
this you can ask Soggy anything, and he’ll grant it. He’s got you down
in his book as heroes, everyone.”

They found the cellar in a sad mess, for the water was inches deep on
the cement floor, the regulars meaning to have some fun out of it,
after being “called to the colors” by the alarm bell.

Soggy pounced upon the boys, and went around, shaking everyone by the
hand as though “he thought he had hold of a pump-handle, and was the
early morning milkman,” Lanky Wallace declared.

“Now that it’s all over, boys,” the pleased janitor declared, “sure I’m
believin’ ’twas worth all it cost to find out what sort of stuff you
young gentlemen had in you! I’ll never forget it, never! And Columbia
High is still on the map, I’m glad to say, thanks to you. Nine names
I’m going to write down in my book; and, boys, if Soggy can do anyone
of you a favor, just let him know. He’s willing to go to the extent of
his wages any time.”

“Let’s get out of this,” called Ben Allison.

“Yes, it’s getting too warm again, boys!” cried Bones Shadduck;
for some of the larger juniors were classed with the seniors as
fire-fighters.

And so they came trooping out of the basement, laughing heartily.
Soggy was a favorite with most of the boys. There could hardly have
been a more efficient janitor; and yet he bemoaned the fact for a long
time that he had not discovered some trace of the smouldering blaze
before he went on that errand for the principal, to find the building
endangered on his return.

But if Frank believed that he had run the gauntlet to its conclusion
when he got through with Soggy, he counted wrongly. Beyond the confines
of the campus a group of the girls waited, eager to greet the heroes
of the occasion, and perhaps secure to themselves just a little of the
glory that was apt to shine like a halo around the heads of those happy
fire-fighters.

Minnie was there, and Frank smiled to see the eager look she bent on
him as he joined her.

“Oh, Frank! how do you feel?” she asked, anxiously. “All that horrid
smoke you must have swallowed, I should think would make you sick. You
do look pale right now; and you ought to go home and lie down.”

“Well, what sort of sissy do you take me for, Minnie?” asked the
amused Frank. “A boy ought to be used to smoke. Lots of them seem to
get a lot of pleasure out of soaking themselves in it, when they go
to college, you know. Why, I’m feeling as fit as ever, I guess; and I
expect to go on that long run this afternoon, just to keep in trim for
the trial heats Saturday next.”

“Of course I’m glad to hear you say that, Frank; but it did frighten us
when we saw you lead the way into the cellar, with all that black smoke
pouring out.”

“It wasn’t so very black, you know, Minnie,” interrupted Frank,
teasingly.

“Well, anyway,” she went on, “Helen and I just fell into each other’s
arms; and we stood that way, hugging tight, all the time you were in
there. We’re both proud of you; and Helen would be here to say the same
if she wasn’t so busy telling Paul Bird something like that right now.”

Lanky Wallace was hovering around, as though he wanted to speak to
Frank; and the latter could give a pretty good guess what it might be.

“Just wait for me a minute while I speak to Lanky, Minnie,” he
remarked; “and then I’d like to walk home with you. I’ve got something
to say about that little boat-ride we planned to take to-night, because
the moon is full, and it’s going to be a glorious night. Can you wait
for me a minute or two, Minnie?”

“I suppose so, seeing that I’ve already waited an hour almost; but be
as quick as you can, Frank, for I’m almost famished, I confess to you,”
was the reply; as the girl gave him one of her most roguish smiles, for
which almost any sensible fellow would feel like going through fire and
water, if he could feel that it was meant as a reward for his daring.

“Say, I didn’t like to call you away,” remarked Lanky, as Frank joined
him. “But I wanted to say that as we have that run this afternoon, and
there’s going to be no session to-morrow, perhaps we’d better postpone
our trip to Budd’s Corners, till the morning. How does that suit you,
Frank?”

“All right,” replied the other, briskly; “I couldn’t go to-night
anyhow, for Minnie made a date with me to take her out boat-riding in
the full of the moon. Is that all you wanted to say, Lanky?”

“Yes; and now return to your pleasant little chat with Minnie,” the
other said, with a long-drawn sigh that Frank understood very well.

“By the way, Lanky,” he remarked, “seems to me I saw you talking with
Dora just a little while ago. Have you made up again?”

“Not that I’ve heard about,” replied Lanky, gloomily. “Of course, I
want to treat her civilly, as a fellow always ought a girl he used to
think a heap of; but I can’t forget how she gave me the cold shake that
night we had the class dance in the barn. If she’d only ask me to
forget that, I’d quit feeling like thirty cents, and perk up again.”

“But she was talking to you; wasn’t she?” persisted Frank.

“Why, yes, she said she was glad I got out of that cellar O. K.; that
she was _so_ proud to think that she and I _used_ to be such very good
friends; and a lot more of the same kind; but not a peep about bein’
sorry because she cut me that night. And, Frank, I guess I showed her
that I wasn’t carin’ a cent. I was as cool as you please; and thanked
her just like you might the mayor of Columbia, if he came to tell you
the town fathers had voted a medal for your work to-day.”

Frank looked at him curiously. He knew the state of Lanky’s feelings,
and that the tall chap cared more for fickle little Dora than he was
willing to acknowledge. And then and there Frank determined to enlist
the services of Minnie Cuthbert in trying to heal the breach between
the two estranged ones; though, of course, he would not think of
hinting about this to proud Lanky.

“I guess you must have, Lanky,” he said, shortly; “because I saw her
turn, and walk away with her head held high in the air. You didn’t
notice her hand when she held it out to you, I suppose?”

“Well,” replied the other, with a flush of what might be regret, “you
see that smoke it was fierce, and I’ve been about half blind ever
since.”

He turned abruptly and walked away. Perhaps it may have been the smoke
caused his eyes to water then, for Frank was positive he saw them
glisten with some suspicious moisture.

“The poor old chap does feel it more than he’ll admit,” he said to
himself as he started to rejoin the impatient Minnie. “But if anybody
can fix things, Minnie will. Takes a girl like her to handle a delicate
subject. She’ll get chummy-like with Dora, and draw her out. Then
she’ll tell her how bad Lanky feels, and what she ought to do as the
right thing, after cutting him dead that night. Oh! it’ll be all right
soon, I reckon.”

And as Frank walked home with Minnie Cuthbert they had their heads
close together in a way that made more than one old gossip smile and
look wise; not knowing that they were discussing the carrying-out of a
generous act.




CHAPTER IX

AMONG THE NOMADS OF THE ROAD


“There’s the gypsy camp, all right, Lanky,” remarked Frank, on the
following morning, about nine, as the two chums sauntered along the
road beyond the confines of the town of Columbia.

They had managed to elude all their friends, in some way or other;
for since Lanky was determined to settle the question that had been
bothering him ever since first passing the gypsy caravan, it was of
the utmost importance that they enter the camp of the nomads without a
crowd of chums to keep them company.

“That’s right, Frank,” remarked the other, with a little laugh; “and
just as you said, I was off my base when I thought they might’ve pulled
up stakes, and cleared out durin’ the night. Of course nobody knows
what’s in my mind, and so they’ve not gone and got scar’t. Well, we’ll
soon see now whether I’ve been a loon, or if that kid _did_ mean to
attract my attention.”

  [Illustration: FRANK AND LANKY VISIT THE GYPSY CAMP.

  _Boys of Columbia High in track Athletics._      _Page 81._]

“Are you still thinking the same way?” asked Frank, in a low tone;
for they were by this time approaching the outskirts of the gypsy
encampment, where several gay tents had been erected among the
expensive wagons with the commodious and painted tops, that were made
to serve for both sleeping and eating places.

“Can’t just get to see it any other way, I tell you,” Lanky persisted.
“I’ve been turning and twisting it around every which direction, but
all the time I just seem to see that little girl holdin’ out her baby
hands to me. Never did have such a thing grip me, I give you my word,
Frank.”

“All right, then,” replied his chum, resolutely. “We’ll go through the
performance just like we planned it. I only wanted to make sure you
hadn’t backed water, because it wouldn’t be worth while to take the
chances unless you felt dead sure there might be something in it.”

“I’m going to do just as you said, Frank, and look like any fellow
might when he had a chance to walk around in a gypsy camp. There’s lots
of queer things to see; and I want to talk with one or two of those
boys, if so be they’ll answer civil questions. But you can bet I don’t
touch on _that_ subject once. But, Frank, I’ll use my eyes to beat the
band; and if she’s around I’m bound to see her.”

“Well, here we are, close up now; so haul off, and fight shy of the
matter. Let’s jabber away like a couple of boys would, that had been
sent here on an errand, and wanted to look around, just to see how
these ramblers live when they are in camp.”

Lanky, to use his own expression, “buttoned up his lips” right then and
there. He could not tell when some member of the gypsy tribe might be
lying behind a bush, and overhear what they were saying; and it was the
part of discretion to keep a close watch over everything they did from
now on.

Suspicious looks greeted their arrival at the camp. Both men and women,
even the younger element among the nomads, seemed to question the
wisdom of allowing a couple of boys to enter the enclosure where the
belongings of the tribe were scattered about.

But Frank stepped up to the first man he met, and there was something
so manly about his demeanor that unconsciously, before he had spoken a
word, the gypsy smiled.

“I want to see the queen, Esther you call her, I think,” was what Frank
said.

“She is not telling fortunes any more,” said the man. “It has brought
us more trouble than dollars, and so she has stopped. But they were
always true; and sometimes the house-dwellers liked them not on that
account.”

“But I don’t want to see her for that,” Frank insisted.

“What would you, then, boy?” demanded the man, a little suspiciously
now.

“I have been sent here to see her by the gentleman who owns this land,”
Frank continued, boldly. “The old agreement has run out, and it was
understood that the next time you came to stay here, your leader would
make a new one. I have brought it for the queen to sign, after we have
talked the matter over.”

At that the gypsy’s eyes showed more wonder than ever. Undoubtedly he
marveled to see a mere boy sent on such an important errand. But, at
any rate, Frank’s explanation seemed to have cleared away the doubts
that were beginning to harass his mind.

“If that is so, come with me. I will show you where the queen can be
found,” he said, with more respect than he had used before.

Frank turned to his companion, and remarked, in a careless way:

“Just make yourself at home, Lanky, till I get through. I guess there
won’t be any objection to his hanging around the camp a while; will
there? He wants to understand how gypsies live when on the road, you
see.”

“It’s all right; let him stay as long as he wants. You come this way
with me,” and as he said this the swarthy-faced, squatty man started
off.

Frank was about to follow when he heard Lanky draw his breath in
a curious way, which had been arranged as a signal between them.
And coming when it did, this told Frank that his chum meant to say
something in a low tone as they stood for a few seconds, before he
himself followed the gypsy.

“I saw something,” muttered Lanky, when their heads were close together.

“What was it?” asked Frank, quickly.

“Over at the big wagon, where you’re going now,” the other went on.

“Where the queen lives, you mean?” asked Frank.

“Well, she must ’a’ just discovered that there were strangers in the
camp, because I saw her chase _something_ up the steps into the wagon.
She hid it with her dress all the while, so I couldn’t make sure; but,
Frank, I just know, as certain as I’m here, that it must have been that
kid. She don’t want anybody outside to set eyes on that little girl.
Now, why should she act that way if the child belonged to her people?
I tell you, it looks more and more to me like there must be fire where
you find smoke.”

There was no opportunity to say any more. The gypsy man had come to a
halt, and was waiting for Frank to overtake him. Perhaps he supposed
that the messenger was warning his companion to be careful how he
touched anything, and got himself in a mess with the campers.

Frank was soon face to face with a middle-aged woman, whose face,
though marked by many wrinkles, had a keen look upon it. Her black
eyes seemed to bore him through. He had seen Queen Esther on other
occasions, for these gypsies came along about the same time every year,
camping in the pasture at Budd’s Corners, and trading horses with the
farmers for miles around.

If a farmer had a horse that did not please him he would hold it until
these nomads arrived, when he tried to drive a shrewd bargain with
them. But, though at the time he might flatter himself on having gotten
the best part of the trade, as time rolled on he would awaken to the
fact that after all he was mistaken. But by then the gypsies were sure
to be far on their way; and a whole year would elapse before they again
made their appearance on the scene.

Frank quickly introduced the subject that had brought him there. He
believed he saw a sudden look of relief flash over the strongly marked
features of the queen, as though certain fears had been set at rest.

She immediately began to discuss the proposition suggested by Mr. Budd,
and with a business-like manner that proved her right to be at the head
of the tribe. The owner of the field had entered into the spirit of
Frank’s design; and in order to give Lanky more time in which to do his
prowling, the negotiations were prolonged by various little hitches
that had to be smoothed away.

So slow was Frank in reaching an agreement, and getting it properly
signed, that half an hour must have passed since he and Lanky first
arrived at the borders of the gypsy encampment.

And all of this time the tall lad was having a chance to roam around
the camp, observing what went on, and doubtless picking up points that
might prove of more or less value to him later on.

Frank saw him from time to time, but seemed to pay not the slightest
attention to what he was doing. And on Lanky’s part it can be said with
truth that he surely gave his chum no trouble whatever. He sauntered
here, and stopped there to watch some boys playing a game with a
pocket-knife very similar to mumble-the-peg, with which of course Lanky
was familiar.

All this time Frank was somewhat nervous, for he did not know but
what at any minute there might be a sudden explosion. Lanky was apt
to be impulsive; and if he really found that his suspicions had good
grounds to rest upon, possibly the rash fellow might try to carry off
the little girl. Frank had warned him, however, against anything so
foolish, and gained his solemn promise to let it be taken in hand by
those more capable of engineering the deal than two boys might seem to
be.

But there was no alarm, for which Frank felt happy. And having finally
gained the signature of Queen Esther to the new contract, though she
grumbled over the rate of renting the pasture for two weeks each
spring, Frank was now ready to depart from the strange camp.

He too looked around him curiously. Many unfamiliar scenes greeted his
eyes to the right and to the left. Frank had watched the gypsy queen
while they talked, and he was ready to admit that she certainly showed
signs of nervousness more than a few times. Again and again would she
half turn her head, and always to glance up at the elevated door that
marked the rear of the big van, near which they sat on a rustic bench
and talked.

To tell the truth, she did seem bothered about something connected with
that same wagon. Frank had sat down in such a position that he could
himself steal a curious look that way from time to time; but though the
minutes had crept along, he could not say that he had once seen that
closed door move during the period of his conference with Queen Esther.

He found Lanky waiting for him near the border of the camp, examining
the gypsy way of making a fire, with a big iron pot hanging over the
flames by means of a stout chain, that in turn was fastened to a heavy
iron bar resting in the crotches of two stakes driven into the ground.

“Makes me think of the old witch scene in ‘Macbeth’ we were reading
about the other day, where they dance around the fire, and say, ‘Boil
and bubble, toil and trouble,’” Frank remarked as, joined by his chum,
they both strode out from among the wagons, children with dusky faces
and staring black eyes, keen-faced men, and chattering women, and
headed for the road.

“Well, what did you find out?” asked Frank, when they were beyond sight
of the camp.

“I saw her again,” said Lanky, drawing a long breath as of repressed
excitement.

“Did she say anything; or did you have a chance to ask her what you
said you meant to?” was what Frank fired at his chum.

“Well, no, Frank,” replied Lanky, slowly, but with triumph in his
voice; “you see, the old queen was so close I was afraid she’d hear me.
But I made motions to let the little girl know I was her friend, when
she poked her head out of that side window of the wagon; and what d’ye
think, she just dropped this out to me!” and he held up a small object
before the astonished eyes of his chum.




CHAPTER X

THE BUNCH FROM BELLPORT


Frank looked hastily around him to see that they were not observed.
Then he took the article which Lanky Wallace was holding out.

“Why, it’s a child’s little bonnet, Lanky!” he exclaimed.

“Glad to see you guess that at the start,” remarked the excited Lanky,
with a touch of humor in his voice.

“And the little one dropped this down to you; did she?” pursued Frank,
as he again thoughtfully examined the article of wearing apparel.

“Just what she did, Frank. Never said a single word, either; just gave
me a look I won’t soon forget. Reckon she’s frightened to death of that
old gypsy queen, and didn’t dare give a little peep. But, Frank, don’t
you see the poor little thing wanted me to understand something?”

“I think she did, Lanky,” replied the other, a serious look on his
face.

“It’s a child’s bonnet, just like you say, Frank; but tell me, do you
think for a single minute any gypsy child ever wore such a contraption
as that?”

“No, I don’t, for a fact, Lanky,” answered Frank, readily.

“Looks kinder expensive to me, even if it’s badly soiled right now; eh,
Frank?” continued the tall boy.

“Yes, you’re right, it was an expensive bonnet, Lanky. No poor person
could ever afford to buy such a thing for his little girl. It stands
for money. Now, the question comes, how did that bonnet ever get into
the hands of the little, dark-faced girl in the queen’s wagon; and what
did she want you to understand by dropping it before you?”

“Frank, honest to goodness now, don’t you see that it was a regular
mute appeal? Here was the only link that poor little thing had,
connecting her with the happy past, before she fell into the hands of
these rough gypsy rovers. Somehow it must have seemed to her that if
she ever could get back again to the ones who used to love her that
bonnet was going to do the trick!”

Lanky could hardly contain himself, he was so excited.

“I wonder now if that could be so?” mused Frank, still looking at the
delicate little article, made up chiefly of lace and silk, with a faded
blue ribbon fastened to it.

He examined it closely as though entertaining a faint hope that he
might discover some clue to the past. But in spite of his efforts
nothing resulted from his search.

“Well, what do you think, Frank?” demanded the impatient Lanky, after a
little time had elapsed, and he considered that his chum must have made
up his mind.

“Seems to me there’s only one thing you can do,” came the reply.

“Then tell me,” begged Lanky.

“You’ve got that clipping safe and sound, I hope?” asked Frank.

“Sure I have, and right here in my jeans now,” Lanky replied.

“Let me look over it again,” Frank remarked; and upon his chum pushing
the fragment of newspaper in his hand, he studied it as he walked on.

“I’m glad of one thing,” he remarked, presently, when Lanky thought he
could not stand the suspense much longer. “They give the gentleman’s
home address here, which is a lucky thing for us.”

“Chuck that, Frank, and tell me what you mean,” Lanky pleaded.

“Why, you’ve got to communicate with this Mr. Elverson right away,
and ask him if his little girl, who was carried away by a crazy or
revengeful nurse, months ago, wore a little bonnet made of lace and
silk, and decorated with a pale blue ribbon.”

“Wow! all that is going to take a few good plunks to pay the expense,
if you mean I must telegraph it!” exclaimed Lanky.

“I’ll help you out, if you’re short, and you ought to know that,” Frank
immediately declared; “and my father would back me to any extent, I’m
dead sure. This begins to look as though there might be something in
it; and if that child is being held there in that gypsy camp against
her will, she must be taken away from them.”

“Hurrah! that sounds good to me, Frank!” cried the delighted Lanky,
pleased beyond measure to learn that his cautious chum had finally
decided to come over to his side of the fence.

“And the sooner we go about that part of the business the better. I’ve
got some money with me, and if we need more I know where to go for it,
Lanky.”

“That’s the idea!” declared the tall lad; “nothing like striking while
the iron is hot, as we used to learn in our copybooks in school, when
we were kids. Let’s head for the station right now, then, Frank, and
see if we can’t hatch up a message that ought to give this Mr. Elverson
the shock of his life.”

Ten minutes later two boys, breathing hard from fast walking, appeared
at the little railroad station in Columbia, and asked for a bunch of
telegraph blanks.

“My! you must be going to keep me busy the rest of the morning,
boys!” remarked the young fellow who acted as ticket agent, express
representative and telegraph operator combined.

“Oh! we’ll let you have time to grab a bite of lunch, Conrad,” replied
Lanky, in his humorous fashion.

It took the boys about half an hour to concoct a satisfactory message.
They wanted to cover all the ground without wasting words; for
money did not grow on bushes, Lanky remarked, as he cut out several
adjectives that counted for little.

Lanky wanted to sign Frank’s name to the message, but the other refused
to allow it.

“This is your affair, and I’m not going to butt in,” he declared
positively. “And I only hope you reach the gentleman without delay, so
that you may have a reply soon.”

“What could delay it?” asked Lanky. “Seems to me that he’ll be just
wild to get in touch with us, if that bonnet is like the one his child
wore when the nurse lit out with her.”

“He might be away from home, you know, and they would have some
trouble in getting him,” Frank observed, for he knew his chum would
be bitterly disappointed if he did not hear from Mr. Elverson right
away; why, just as likely as not Lanky would lie awake half the night,
expecting to hear the telephone bell ring, and the voice of the night
operator at the station calling for him.

They had to look very mysterious when Conrad, the agent at the station,
having read the message, and counted the words, informed them it would
cost three dollars and a quarter; and then seemed to expect them to
tell him what was in the wind. For Frank had cautioned his rather
talkative chum not to breathe a word about it to a living soul until
they had heard from the gentleman.

“Now we’ve got the rest of the day before us,” said Frank, as they left
the station, arm in arm; “what are we going to do with it?”

“It’s about ten, now,” Lanky remarked, “and I reckon there’ll be quite
a squad of our fellows down at the athletic field, tryin’ every stunt
going; because, you see, lots of ’em believe they can qualify for the
broad jump, the shot-put, the hammer-throw, or even in the sprints. And
you’ll see some of the queerest athletic work ever if you come down
there right now.”

“I’ll go you, then, Lanky,” agreed Frank. “Besides, I heard someone
say there was going to be a big bunch from Bellport coming over to
watch, and see what our boys could do. You heard what happened in both
Clifford and Bellport, didn’t you, last night?”

“You mean when they got news about the fire at our school, and that
Columbia was going to get to-day off for a holiday, the trustees of
both the other high schools called meetings, and agreed to close up
shop for to-day, too. Mighty decent of them, I say, Frank.”

“Well, what else could they do?” the other went on to say. “The boys
who expect to enter the competition could claim that Columbia would
have a big advantage in an extra day for practice. Even now there’s
been some lively grumbling among some of the Bellport crowd, to the
effect that we’re favored in the way things are run.”

“Well, it isn’t so,” declared Lanky, indignantly. “There never was a
fairer arrangement when the three schools came to meet up with each
other. I kinder had an idea some of those Bellport fellows were in for
making trouble; and it wouldn’t surprise me a little bit, Frank, if
they started their racket to-day.”

“Oh, I hope not,” remarked Frank; “that would be too bad to have
Bellport on the outs with us. Their athletic captain, Cuthbert Lee, is
a square fellow, if ever one could be. But let’s put on a little speed,
and make for the field.”

About a mile from the border of Columbia lay the athletic field, that
had been given over to the boys of the town by some gentleman whose
heart remained young, even though his hair had taken on a silvery tint.

Here a grand-stand had been built, and there were several houses
where those who competed in the events could dress. There was even a
shower-bath, and numerous other appliances looking to the comfort of
Columbia boys; with a keeper to take charge of it all, and prevent
destruction of property.

Usually the Columbia people went to see the baseball and football
matches on foot, for the distance was not great. Crowds came from
Bellport and Clifford by way of boats on the river, or, in the case of
the former town, by using the trolley that connected the two places.

Some of the Columbia fellows who had boats were wont to use them, any
excuse to get on the water being eagerly seized upon, especially if
some of the girls were of the same mind.

And so, as Frank and Lanky drew near the big field, they seemed to
see young people moving in all directions, the vast majority of them
heading for the pleasure-ground; since it was known that many of
the boys would be practicing diligently, taking advantage of this
unexpected holiday.

“What did I tell you?” remarked Lanky, in an aside to his chum, as they
discovered a big bunch of high-school fellows, with blue bands around
their hats, coming from the direction of the trolley, and talking
boisterously.

“Some of the Bellport fellows, sure enough,” Frank replied; for he
recognized several familiar faces; and the blue ribbon told the story
by itself.

“Yes, and if you tried to pick out the loudest talkers in all Bellport
you’d be apt to find them in that crowd,” Lanky went on. “Honest Injun,
now, Frank, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had come over here to-day
just to josh our boys, and make trouble. Why, there might be a fight
before the day is done.”

“That would be too bad,” Frank said, looking serious at the very
thought. “We’ve always been on mighty good terms with Bellport, and for
one I’d hate to see any bad blood between the two schools. We’ll try
and warn our fellows not to pay too much attention to what they may
say. It takes two to make a quarrel, you know.”




CHAPTER XI

ALMOST A RIOT


The scene was a lively one. Scores of high school boys, all of them
belonging in Columbia, were working out their various theories for
succeeding in the trials which were scheduled to come off on the
following Saturday. Each fellow seemed to have his own particular way
of trying to excel; and some of these were really remarkable, affording
plenty of amusement to the good-natured crowd of young people, boys and
girls combined, coming from town to watch operations.

When Saturday night came around it was expected that the programme
would have been carried out, and the selections for the grand meet
concluded. The very best in every class would have been chosen; and
after that Columbia could settle down to wait for the day when the
question of supremacy between the rival schools was once more to be
tested in open and square sport, without fear or favor.

A number of the more stocky boys were engaged in putting the shot, and
throwing the discus or hammer. Jack Comfort seemed to be by all odds
the favorite in these events, though there were several who believed
they had a chance.

Even fat Buster Billings was seen in light attire, and perspiring
freely as he hopped around, and finally sent out the weight with about
the grace of a waddling duck. Once he even fell headlong after letting
go, and rolled like a barrel, to the intense delight of the spectators.

Others were practising the broad and standing jump; and close by the
apparatus used for the high jump was in constant use, the crossbar
falling from the uprights again and again, as some aspirant’s foot
caught in going over.

Still there were several fine jumpers among those who kept trying, and
the crossbar was moved up inch by inch as they cleared it handsomely,
amid the plaudits of the admiring throng.

Further on the pole-vaulters were making their swift little run, and
rising to clear their elevated bar. Of course in this particular there
were numerous failures, and some of the jumpers had bothersome falls.
One boy went off limping, and assisted by a friend, having bruised his
leg painfully.

But these things must be expected among a parcel of untrained
schoolboys, whose muscles are not as hard as they should be.

Somehow Lanky and Frank were more interested in the work of the
sprinters, for that was in their own line. They timed some of the
dashes, and exchanged satisfied looks. There seemed to be considerable
talent among this class; and unless the rival schools developed a
marvel or two, they would have all they could do to keep at the heels
of these lively Columbia lads.

From time to time the two boys were hailed by those they knew best; and
Lanky seemed to be in an unusually fine humor, even for him. But Frank,
of course, understood the reason for this. He could see that Lanky
somehow turned his head, and looked at nearly every newcomer. He seemed
to think there would be a messenger from the telegraph office hunting
him up; since the answer to his message was sure to be marked “very
important.”

Loud voices attracted their attention later on, and Frank was sorry to
discover that some of the Columbia boys were engaged in a wordy dispute
with the big crowd of Bellport students who had come over in a fighting
mood.

“It’s a put-up job, that’s what it is!” one of the latter was saying,
roughly.

“Yes, things have all got a string on ’em,” added another, with a
sneer. “It’s no wonder Columbia nearly always wins when they know how
to pull the wires, and get the inside track! On even terms, Bellport
would lick you out of your boots; and I don’t care who hears me say it.”

“Oh! come off now,” remonstrated a Columbia boy; “you know better than
that, Sim Reeves. We’ve been beaten by Bellport and Clifford, and
beaten fairly, too. Did we kick, and set up a howl of fraud? Not much.
We took off our hats to the victors, and said we were sorry to admit
that they were the better fellows that day; but we hoped to tell a
different story another time.”

“Yes, you did!” jeered a third Bellport fellow. “Right now you’ve
got this competition all cooked up, so that the plums will fall to
Columbia. Wasn’t it engineered by a Columbia gentleman, who put up all
the money for the prizes? Sure it was; and the committee just hated to
think of any of those fine medals going to Bellport, so they arranged
things to give the home crowd all the advantage.”

“Prove it by showing us a single thing that isn’t square!” cried an
angry Columbia student, shaking his fist at the speaker.

“Oh! rats! they covered their tracks all right,” the Bellport boy flung
back. “Being used to such tricks, they can do it so nobody could just
put a finger on anything; but all the same the feeling is there that
we’re going to be buncoed right from the start.”

“Huh! if I felt that way I wouldn’t take part in the meet at all!”
called out one of the touchy Columbia boys.

“Perhaps we won’t,” came the immediate answer. “A lot of us have come
over here to-day, not so much to see what you’re all doing, as to tell
you what they think in Bellport of your committee’s work. We know
there are a _few_ square fellers in Columbia; but the majority aren’t
standin’ back on taking advantage of a crooked deal arranged for them
by their committee.”

Frank was shocked at hearing such talk. He knew that the better class
of Bellport fellows would never stand for it; but was afraid that the
two schools might be drawn into a dispute that would put a stop to all
their friendly rivalry in field and track sports.

“Bellport’s sore because of that football drubbing she got last fall!”
called out a Columbia backer, one word leading to another, as is always
the case when boys get to accusing each other.

“And the hockey game that went against her, not to mention baseball!”
echoed still another warm adherent of the local school.

“Oh! be a sport, and take your medicine! You’ve all got an even chance
to win, and I don’t believe there’s a Columbia fellow who’ll accept a
medal, or a prize, if he thought he’d been favored in the least!”

But the war of words went on from bad to worse. All sorts of
accusations began to pass between the two crowds, for the Bellport boys
had come over with the full intention of making trouble.

While they were having it in this fashion who should come in sight but
Chief Hogg, dressed as usual in his resplendent uniform. Someone had
managed to telephone to police headquarters that there was danger of a
riot among the boys at the recreation field; and the head of the local
force had pompously driven out there.

But if anybody expected that the appearance of the stout chief would
stop the tongues of that rough Bellport crowd they were mistaken. They
jeered at the sight of the policeman’s uniform, and matters seemed
getting worse than ever.

The Columbia girls huddled up in groups, watching the excited boys
argue, while arms were waved, and sticks shaken. Frank had seen all
this, and having a sudden inspiration he hurried into the building
where the telephone was located.

“I want to get Bellport in a hurry,” he said to the girl who, during
these times, had charge of the booth at the sporting field.

“I can do that for you right away; but what number do you want?” she
asked; and as Frank looked up from consulting the slender little book
that had the names of all the telephone subscribers in the three river
towns, he replied:

“Give me 57-L, Bellport, please.”

A minute later she called:

“57-L, Bellport. Here you are!”

“Hello! is this Mr. Lee’s house?” asked Frank, and was immediately
electrified by hearing a voice he readily recognized, making reply.

“Yes, who is that talking?”

“Frank Allen, over in Columbia; is that you, Cuthbert?”

“That’s who it is; how are you, Frank; what’s doing in the athletic
line?” came over the wire.

“A whole lot, Cuthbert,” Frank replied quickly. “I’m out at our
athletic field right now. There are some hundreds here, and a lot of
our boys practicing stunts. A bunch of your fellows came over, and are
trying to make trouble. They even jeer at Chief Hogg, and defy him to
lay a hand on them.”

“Thunder! that’s bad; I never dreamed they’d do such a thing,” came
from the astounded boy eight miles away, down in Bellport.

“Unless something is done pretty soon I’m afraid there’s going to be
trouble here, and some broken heads,” Frank went on. “And the worst of
it all is that such a rumpus will break off all friendly intercourse
between the two schools for years, perhaps. Now, I know you have a
great influence over the Bellport boys, Cuthbert. They’ll do more for
you than any fellow living. Can’t you take your motorcycle, and come
over here, licketty-split, and save the day? Please do. It’s the only
chance of keeping peace between the two towns.”

“Frank, I’ll come right away!” answered Cuthbert. “I don’t know that
I can hold those hotheads in check; but I’m willing to do all I can.
So-long!”

Frank went out, hoping that affairs would not reach a crisis before the
athletic leader of the Bellport school arrived. He tried to soothe the
angry and bitter disputants as best he could, and perhaps the respect
they felt for Frank Allen was one reason why some of them did not begin
to use their fists or sticks sooner.

The minutes dragged along, and each seemed an hour to Frank. He knew
that there could be no holding the boys back much longer, for the
insults were growing more and more bitter, and the motions of arms and
sticks more menacing.

“Oh! Frank, can’t you do something to separate them before they fight?”
asked Minnie, when the boy happened to come close to where a group of
girls stood shivering, and looking frightened at the war of words.

“I have done what I could,” replied Frank. “Listen, don’t you hear that
popping sound? It’s Cuthbert Lee on his motorcycle. I ’phoned to him
over home that he was needed here to prevent a clash, and he’s come on
the jump!”




CHAPTER XII

A POPULAR BOY


“Frank, you’re a wonder; and I don’t care who hears me say it!”
exclaimed Minnie, as she saw a cloud of dust down the road, with a boy
on a motorcycle heading it. “Nobody but you would ever have thought of
such a splendid scheme!”

“Well, all I hope, then, is that it works,” replied the boy; “for
they’re just ready to take a whack at each other right now.”

He ran toward the noisy crowd, and shouted at the top of his voice:

“Here’s Cuthbert Lee come over to see us, fellows!”

Even the mention of the name of the most popular boy in all Bellport
acted as a soothing salve upon the excited minds of the wrangling lads.
They drew back just in time to avoid the first blow, which must have
precipitated the battle, and been followed by bloody noses and bruised
faces. Some of them even began to look ashamed to be caught in such a
business as creating bad feeling between the neighboring towns.

Cuthbert Lee was wise enough to know that nothing could be accomplished
by accusing his friends of wrongdoing. He began by asking the cause of
the trouble, and smoothing things down so ably that in a short time he
had the Bellport boys cheering him wildly.

“Don’t let anybody think Bellport has a case of cold feet,” he
declared. “We believe we’ve got the athletes to carry off some of those
prizes, anyhow, and we’re just going to prove it when the time comes.
I’ve watched every arrangement closely, boys, and I give you my solemn
word for it, I honestly believe the arrangements have all been made in
a spirit of fairness.”

“Hear! hear!” shouted a Columbia boy, beginning to be once more drawn
toward the old rivals of Bellport, whom they had cheered wildly many a
time after a game had been won or lost, and respected in the past as
true sport-lovers.

“Why,” continued Cuthbert, feeling that his case was already as good
as won, “at the meeting which I had the honor to attend, the gentleman
who offered these fine prizes was _very_ particular to say, time after
time, that he wanted the neighboring towns to feel that they had just
as good a chance to win as Columbia. He was so broad-minded, fellows,
that once our representative had to actually object, and say that
Bellport didn’t need to be favored. Does that look like the committee
meant to side-track us? I never knew of a fairer arrangement between
schools than the one governing this meet. And that’s positive truth,
believe me, fellows. You know I wouldn’t deceive you for anything in
the world.”

They began to look very foolish now and the Columbia boys were giving
Cuthbert Lee a salvo of loud cheers. Such friendly sentiments touched
their boyish hearts as nothing else could do.

“Let’s call it off, boys!” cried one Bellport fellow, who had been
among the noisiest of the disputants.

“I’m sorry we made the trouble at all!” said another, frankly.

“We’ve been a lot of silly jacks, that’s what!” cried a third; “and for
one I’m in favor of asking the pardon of every Columbia High fellow,
right here and now. Hear that, Frank Allen? It was all a mistake, and
we’re sorry.”

“We hope you’ll forget the unpleasantness, Columbia!”

“And let’s be better friends than ever because of it,” called out
Cuthbert Lee. “When we felt the disappointment of defeat on the
gridiron or the diamond I tell you it took a lot of the sting out of
it to hear fair and square Frank Allen and his crowd giving a bully
cheer for Bellport. And, fellows, we can’t afford to show such a nasty
little spirit as to believe those honest enemies of last summer and
fall could get down low enough to even think of cheating. Who’s with me
in giving three and a tiger right now for the boys of Columbia High?”

Well, they were given, and with a roar. Not a single Bellport boy felt
that he could afford to hold back when Cuthbert Lee led the shouting.
And in five minutes the change in the aspect of things on that athletic
field was magical. Instead of keeping together in a crowd, and
badgering the workers, the visitors separated, and each fellow seemed
to be the center of a group of Columbia students, both boys and girls,
as they watched the continuance of the practice games.

Good-natured chaffing had taken the place of jarring remarks intended
to cut to the quick. The clouds had rolled away, and a fair sky
overhead had succeeded the storm signals.

“That was the brightest thing you ever did, Frank,” remarked Cuthbert
Lee, as he stood with a number of others, and chatted together
concerning the various contests scheduled for the great athletic meet
on the following week.

“_One_ of them, perhaps,” remarked Minnie, proudly; at which there was
a general laugh from the boys and girls, and consequently more or less
blushing on the part of the pretty speaker.

“I’m glad I had the idea, anyway,” replied Frank; “because it began
to look as if there was going to be a riot, sure thing. When boys
get warmed up they never mince words; and I heard some pretty strong
language used. But it’s ended just as it should, and maybe has drawn
the rival schools closer together.”

“I guess they let off all their spare steam, anyhow,” remarked Ralph
Langworthy, who had been engaged in some of the sprinting trials, and
was showing considerable speed in the hundred-yard dash.

Evidently the news had reached Columbia, for men were constantly
arriving at the athletic field. They seemed anxious on coming, but soon
discovered that there must be some sort of mistake about the trouble
that had been reported imminent; for Columbia and Bellport had never
appeared so friendly as just then, and Chief Hogg was telling humorous
stories to the keeper of the grounds.

Lanky was very glum as he stood around. Frank could easily guess the
cause for this. Dora had stayed down in Columbia over the holiday,
instead of going back to the farm; and she was to be seen in the
society of the good-looking Walter Ackerman ’most all the morning.
Indeed, Frank, seeing her glance quickly toward his chum a number of
times, could understand that she was carrying on in this way simply to
annoy Lanky. And as he declined to notice her even a little bit, it
began to look as though the breach had grown too great to be easily
bridged.

“H’m!” said Frank to himself, “it doesn’t look as though Minnie had
been very successful in making Dora see how silly she was in quarreling
with poor Lanky, after he’s been taking her around everywhere since he
met her up on the farm, at the time we saved the house from burning
down. I must get her to try again, though. But in cases like this it
isn’t much use. Dora is set on snubbing him; and Lanky wouldn’t shake
hands with her, when she started to make up.”

Frank and Lanky managed to get together on the trip home, though a bevy
of girls walked close by; and Minnie doubtless wondered what important
business took Frank from her side even for five minutes.

“If you get a wire, call me up, Lanky, sure,” Frank was saying.

“Will I? Well, you can wager I will, right speedy now,” came the
answer. “I need your advice all the time, so’s to keep from makin’ a
botched job of this thing. I hope it comes by to-morrow, though, or
Saturday.”

“Well, if it don’t, I’ll be disappointed myself,” remarked Frank.

“For one thing,” the other went on, “those gyps aren’t a-goin’ to hang
around these diggings forever, you know.”

“Of course not,” agreed Frank.

“They’ll be foldin’ up their tents and silently stealin’ away, as the
poem has it,” Lanky continued; “and then where’d I be if I got word,
when it was too late, that the lost child did wear that same kind of a
little bonnet, with the blue ribbon on it?”

“Perhaps there might be some way to coax them to stay a while longer,”
suggested Frank, thoughtfully.

“How, for instance?” questioned Lanky, eagerly.

“Well, they’re sharp enough to know that with a big event coming off,
like our athletic meet, a crowd of people will be coming to Columbia;
and such a time is always good for horse trading, and such things. I’m
going to set the wheels going, so as to make them see this. One camp
is just as good as another to them, I guess, and so they’ll be glad to
stay over.”

“Well, if you ain’t the greatest hand at gettin’ up schemes I ever
knew!” declared Lanky, warmly, as he gripped his chum’s hand and shook
it. “Now, why didn’t I think of that plan? A gay old head I’ve got;
ain’t worth shucks sometimes. Reckon some people are just about right
in shaking such a fellow!” he added, gloomily.

“Cheer up!” said Frank, slapping him on the back. “All this is going
to be changed, just as if a wizard touched it with his magic wand. You
wait and see what’s going to happen. I just feel it in my bones.”

Lanky did brighten up a little; and then, as he happened to catch sight
of that aggravating couple ahead, Dora chattering away like a little
magpie, and that handsome curly head of Walter so close to her brown
tresses, he gritted his teeth again and lapsed into his former gloomy
state.

So Frank went back to Minnie and the laughing group of which the gay
girl was the center and the life.

No call came over the wire from Lanky that afternoon or evening, much
to Frank’s disappointment. And when he met his chum at school on
Wednesday morning, there was a skeptical look on the thin countenance
of Lanky that told of “hopes deferred making the heart sick.”

“No use talking,” the other declared, in a disgusted tone, “I’m a
regular Jonah nowadays. Never touch a thing but it flops upside-down.
Now, if it’d been only you connected with this racket, Frank, chances
are you’d ’a’ had a message before now; and the father and mother’d
be on their way here. But I’ve just queered the game, that’s what.
Everything’s against me, I do believe.”

“Oh! wait a while,” said Frank, encouragingly. “It’s plain that your
wire hasn’t reached the gentleman yet; because, if his little girl
hasn’t been found you can just believe that he’d seize on any chance to
hear news. And when he does get the telegram you’ll know it. If he’s
off somewhere, it may be several days before they can reach him; but it
will come, Lanky, it’s bound to come. So I say wait, and just hold your
horses the best you know how.”

“All right, Frank,” replied Lanky. “I’ll do the best I can; but I’m
badgered if I don’t feel sore, the way things are knocking me. But I’m
all trimmed for making that long run Saturday; and you and Bones’ll
have to hustle if you want to get home anywhere near my time; for I’m
going to show _somebody_ something, you understand!”




CHAPTER XIII

ON THE HARRAPIN


Saturday saw quite a big crowd gathered in the afternoon at the
athletic field, to witness what they called the “elimination trials.”
By this means all who could not take part in the grand meet the
following week would be weeded out.

There were plenty of young people present from both Bellport and
Clifford; for it was expected that these trial heats would prove
almost as interesting as the real thing later on. Of course this was
a Columbia day entirely, a sort of home affair, since only local boys
could compete.

One event after another was carried out by the judges who were
appointed to decide upon the merits of the numerous candidates. Even
sack racing was indulged in; and the antics of fat Buster Billings
when he strove with might and main to come in ahead of his more nimble
rivals afforded great fun. He even started to rolling when unable to
get on his feet again after a fall, and might have won, only that this
method of making progress was declared barred by those in charge.

Some of the jumping tests were well carried out; and those who watched
and figured on the marks made nodded their heads as though satisfied
that Columbia had a good chance in this quarter.

The high-jumpers also held a carnival of their own, and brought out
loud cheers by their showing; while the pole-vaulters, the shot-putters
and hammer-throwers and the short-distance sprinters gave every
evidence of being grimly determined not to lose the prizes offered in
their departments, if grit and pluck and muscle could win out.

Finally, at four o’clock the long-distance runners lined up; and as
this was the last, as well as the most important event, on the program,
everybody crowded around to witness the start. There was a lot of
cross-fire talk between some of the ambitious aspirants and their
friends on the side lines.

Besides Frank, Lanky and Bones Shadduck, the three who were fully
expected to carry off the honors, and get tickets to enter the Marathon
in the big meet, there were almost a dozen others, who seemed to have
hopes of developing into wonders; or else meant to start, just for the
fun of the thing.

Since that day in school, when the fire occurred in the basement,
nothing had been seen or heard of Bill Klemm and his two cronies, Asa
Barnes and Watkins Kline. Asa’s father, the local butcher, had been
searching all over the country for his son; but thus far nothing had
been heard from him. It was believed that, thinking they must have
caused the destruction of the school by fire, the frightened trio
of boys were hiding far away, not daring to return home. And among
the crowds that gathered on this Saturday, their names were often
mentioned, as all sorts of queer theories were advanced to account for
their disappearance.

But then, as they were most unpopular boys, no one cared very much
about it. And really the games that were being carried out were ten
times more worth talking about than the fortunes of such a town bully
as Bill Klemm, or his followers, who were trying to walk in the same
trail he followed.

It had been determined that since this was only a trial race, with the
result really a foregone conclusion, the boys would not have to go
over the entire circuit as laid out for the great meet. Instead of ten
miles, they would cover just half that distance.

With the crack of the starter’s pistol the long line jumped away.
Several ambitious beginners immediately sprinted, and took the lead.

“Look at Ginger Harper, would you?” cried a spectator; “why, he’s a
wonder, for a fact. He can run around the rest of that bunch, and not
half try. There he goes, grabbin’ off the yards like fun. It’s going
to be a procession, with Ginger first!”

“Is it?” remarked Jack Eastwick, with a grin of pity for the ignorance
of the shouter, who was a particular friend of the Harper boy, he knew;
“maybe so, maybe not.”

Those who knew better saw that the good runners did not start at
headlong pace. They held back in a bunch, and were saving their wind.
In a run that covers five or ten miles it is the height of folly to
make any effort at great speed at the start. By degrees experienced and
knowing runners get into their stride, and in this fashion are able to
finish strongly. That home stretch to them means everything, and when
the crack of the pistol announces that it has been entered, they seem
to exhibit all the freshness of those just starting.

So the last of the runners disappeared from sight, and the crowd went
back to watch a few more minor events while waiting for the return of
the five-mile contestants.

“Pretty near time they began to show up; isn’t it?” asked Jack Comfort,
who was well pleased with the showing he had made that day, and fully
assured that he would be the one selected to compete for Columbia with
the weight-throwing and shot-putting squad.

A shout was heard just then.

“A runner in sight!” passed along the lines, and immediately everything
else was neglected, while the crowd formed a long double lane from the
outskirts of the field to the tape, which the contestants had to breast
in order to have their time taken.

“Who is it? Ginger Harper making it a sweep?” cried one, mockingly.

“Say, Ginger’s been back here these ten minutes and more,” called out
another. “He gave out at the first half-mile stone, and came home to
see the run-in!”

“It’s Frank Allen!” arose the shout.

“You’re all mistaken, for it’s Lanky Wallace. Don’t you see how tall he
is; and aren’t we all of us on to his way of running!” whooped Buster
Billings, red in the face with all he had been attempting in various
lines.

“Lanky Wallace leads!”

“Three Lankies for cheers!” shrieked Red Huggins, who always managed to
get his sentences twisted when excited, and as some of the boys said,
“got the cart before the horse.”

“And he’s beat his best time by a whole lot, too!” announced another
enthusiast.

Some of the Bellport and Clifford boys were seen comparing watches
as Lanky came bounding along with tremendous strides, making for the
tape-line, and apparently they were staggered to realize what small
chance their athletes had in comparison with this wonder.

“If he kept to the track he’s the best ever!” one fellow said, shaking
his head as though he could hardly believe it.

“There’s another runner, and this time it is Frank Allen!”

“With Bones close behind him; and the field out of sight!”

“Oh! some of those fellows will be comin’ in for the next hour!”
laughed Buster.

Lanky shot along the double line of shouting admirers, and breasted
the tape in gallant style. And had Frank been there to notice, he
would have smiled to see how the winner’s first thought was to cast a
contemptuous look over to that quarter where pretty little Dora Baxter
stood clapping her hands gleefully, just as though for the moment it
was forgotten that she and Lanky had ever had a falling out.

Frank was delighted with the wonderful time made by his long-legged
chum. Surely Lanky had improved very much since the last time they
entered for a long-distance run. And if either of the rival schools
could show a better runner, he would have to be a marvel indeed.

Of course the three who were to enter for Columbia were those who had
come in first, second and third. The fourth did not arrive for ten
minutes or more after Bones Shadduck passed the tape; and when most of
the crowd had left the field the others were still showing up--some
limping from stone-bruises, and others utterly fagged out from the long
grind.

And if five miles could put them in this condition of exhaustion, it
was very evident that they could not have a grain of hope of ever
getting over the entire course of double that distance.

Lanky had gone to the dressing-room, and soon appeared in his ordinary
clothes. He took his honors meekly; indeed, Frank suspected that the
boy would really have cared more to hear one girl say a single word of
admiration, than to hear scores load him down with praise.

But Dora had gone off with a group, and was not to be seen. Evidently
she had rightly interpreted that look of scorn Lanky had thrown toward
her at the moment of his triumph, as though to tell her he did not care
to see her applauding anything which he might do.

“Hey! Lanky, come and go back with us to town on board the _Harrapin
Belle_!” said Ben Allison, whacking the tall boy between the shoulders
as he started off alone.

“Oh! don’t care if I do, Ben,” replied Lanky, never dreaming to what a
strange end this trivial incident might lead him; “if your boat isn’t
too crowded.”

“Huh! nothing’s too good for you this day, Lanky,” replied the other;
“and I’d pitch a few of the others overboard to make room for the boy
who’s going to bring victory our way next week. We’re sure proud of the
way you covered that five-mile course to-day, and that’s the truth.
Here, hook your arm with mine. It’s an honor to be seen walking with
you, Lanky, let me tell you.”

“Is it?” queried Lanky, gloomily; “some people don’t think that way,
Ben. But I’m wondering if Frank Allen couldn’t have run me a hot race
if he wanted.”

“Rats! Frank did the best he could,” retorted Ben. “I heard him say so.”

And so, arguing in this friendly spirit, they finally came to the
river, where a number of boats of all sorts lay, having come for the
most part from the other towns.

The _Harrapin Belle_ was a big launch that Ben’s father had bought
early that season. It had been second-hand, but was in fair condition.
More than a dozen boys and girls were going back to town on board,
having been invited by generous Ben, and evidently bent on enjoying a
little river trip to vary the monotony of things.

Lanky discovered, when it was too late, that Dora and Walter Ackerman
were aboard, sitting far up in the bow. He kept away from that quarter
studiously; and, as the boat started up the river, busied himself in
appearing to be utterly care-free.

They had not gone more than a few hundred yards before the pilot
managed to run against some sort of snag, which was unseen above the
surface of the water. No particular damage to the boat resulted; but
there was quite a little shock. And then came a scream in a voice that
seemed familiar to Lanky.

Springing to his feet he dashed toward the bow. The boat was floating
with the current now, the power having been turned off. Several of the
boys and girls were bending over the side, gazing in alarm at something
that was occurring there; and among them Lanky could see Walter
Ackerman.

But he failed to discover Dora; and the truth broke upon him that it
must be the girl who had once been so dear a friend to him, who had
fallen into the river at the time of the collision!




CHAPTER XIV

LANKY FINDS HIS CHANCE


“There she is!”

“Oh! why doesn’t somebody jump overboard, and save her, poor thing?”
cried Helen Allen; at the same time clinging to Paul Bird so
desperately that he could not have attempted the rescue act, even
though inclined that way.

Lanky seized hold of Walter Ackerman.

“She was with you!” he shouted; “why don’t you go in after her?”

The handsome boy never looked as he did then, white in the face, and
frightened.

“I would; indeed, I’d do it in a minute--but I can’t swim a stroke!” he
gasped.

Without waiting to hear another word Lanky threw him contemptuously
aside, “just as he might a sack of oats,” Helen afterwards said, in
describing it all to Frank.

One look Lanky cast over the side, as he kicked his shoes off, and sent
his jacket flying after them. This showed him a white face in the
midst of the water, and, he thought, a pair of hands held out toward
him.

Then Lanky jumped.

The _Harrapin Belle_ careened far over on the port side, because
everyone aboard had hastened to that quarter, in order to learn what
happened. They saw Lanky come to the surface after his dive, and fling
the water out of his eyes. Then he struck out for the spot where the
girl seemed to be struggling, trying to swim perhaps; for Dora was
known to possess that accomplishment, though her skirts bothered her
considerably now.

“Hurray! he’s got her!” whooped Ben Allison, in great excitement.

“Bully for our Lanky; he’s just the screamer to-day, though! Won the
long run; and now saved the prettiest girl outside of Columbia town!”
shouted another boy.

The girls were clapping their hands, and almost wishing that fortune
had been kind enough to let them figure in the rôle of a heroine;
though the water did look pretty wet, and it was evidently very deep
right at this point in the Harrapin.

“We must get them in, fellows!” called Ben, as he gave the signal for
the boy at the engine to back the boat down the current.

“Oh! be careful, Ben, and don’t run over them!” begged Helen, as a new
fear began to tug at her heart.

“I’ll look out,” came the confident reply, as the boat started slowly
to follow the current, and gain on the struggling couple.

But Lanky was not worrying a bit. He had his arm tight around the waist
of Dora, and was easily keeping himself afloat, for he was a good
swimmer--almost like a duck in the water, his mates used to say.

“Are you all right, Dora?” he asked, wondering whether she had retained
her senses through it all.

She clung all the tighter to him, as though that alone ought to answer
his question. Perhaps, after it was all over, Dora would treat him just
as coldly as ever; but while it lasted Lanky was not “caring whether
school kept or not,” as he described it.

They were soon enabled to reach the side of the boat; and as some
of the boys above reached down their hands, Dora’s dripping figure
was quickly drawn up. But it might have been noticed that the girl
studiously avoided touching the hand of Walter Ackerman. He was bound
to pay a heavy penalty for never having learned to swim.

“His cake is dough, all right!” was the way Paul Bird expressed it to
Helen, after he had seen this aversion on the part of the rescued girl.
“And I guess there’s just going to be all peace between Lanky and Dora
after this.”

“It’s just wonderful, that’s all I can say!” exclaimed Frank’s young
sister. “If it had been a page out of a story it couldn’t have happened
nicer. But they’re helping Lanky up now. Oh! isn’t he just dripping,
though?”

“But he rather likes it,” Paul went on to say. “Lanky always was a sort
of water-dog. I’ve known him to spend the best part of a day in the
river. You couldn’t drown him if you tried. See him grin, will you,
when he looks at poor Walter, who’s got to take a back seat after this,
I reckon.”

“Well, serves him right!” declared Helen. “Every boy ought to know how
to swim, if he ever expects a girl to feel confidence in him at all.
And I’m so glad that _you_ can, Paul.”

Lanky Wallace no longer looked glum and unhappy. He realized that
fortune had beamed upon him that day in a way he could never have
dreamed would happen. It was not enough that he should come in far
ahead of the field in that long run, beating the best amateur time
known in that section of the country for a five-mile race; but now this
had come about in the bargain.

Dora was wrapped in a rug they had aboard. Lanky disdained to bother
himself about his wet clothes. He managed to get his shoes on, after
an effort and covered his shoulders with his jacket. He said he felt
as “warm as toast”; and perhaps from the way his heart was pounding
away inside, he had good reason for declaring this.

And now, when he caught those dancing eyes of Dora which he used to
think were the prettiest and sauciest he had ever seen, he found no
reason to scowl, and hasten to avert his gaze, for they sparkled with
happiness, and his every glance met a smile.

Finally, before they reached town, he saw Dora beckoning imperiously to
him; just as in those old days before the quarrel, Lanky jumped to obey.

She held out her little hand, and he clasped it eagerly.

“I’m going with Helen to dry my clothes,” the girl said in a low tone,
“and if you could come for me in about half an hour in some sort of a
vehicle, Lanky, I’d be ever so much obliged to you to take me up home.”

“Will I? Well, I guess yes, and glad in the bargain, Dora,” he replied,
with a happy look that told her the bitterness had all gone out of his
heart.

“You’ll forgive me being so unkind to you; won’t you, Lanky?” she
continued, as Helen very considerately turned away.

“Never mention it again to me, Dora. I want to forget we ever had a
falling out,” the boy went on, rapidly.

“And we’re going to be friends again, then, good friends like we used
to be?” she continued, gladness in her voice.

“Better than ever--that is, if you care to have me take you around,
instead of _him_,” Lanky replied suggestively, and her pretty face took
on a very scornful look as she went on:

“Him! Oh! I despise him now, too much for me to tell you. I never did
care so much for him, Lanky, and was only trying to make you believe I
did. But to think of him willing to see me drown there! Oh! the coward!
I never, never mean to even speak to him again!”

“Well,” said Lanky, feeling a little compunction in his generous heart
toward the unlucky object of this girlish disdain; “p’raps he isn’t to
blame so much after all, because he says he can’t swim even a little
bit; and if that’s so, you know he couldn’t ’a’ helped you a whit, even
if he had jumped over.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she persisted, girl-like; “if he’d been real
brave, like some boys I know, he’d have jumped in, anyway. Why, I might
have saved him then, don’t you see, Lanky? Mr. Walter Ackerman had
better go and take lessons in swimming before he expects any Columbia
girl to be his company again. They all know him now.”

Lanky looked at her a little queerly. He was in reality wondering
whether, after all, the plucky girl might not have been pretending to
be in greater peril than was actually the case, after finding herself
dumped into the river, just to see which one of her boy friends would
do the life-saving act. But he never knew whether there was any truth
in this far-fetched idea or not.

Although Lanky Wallace had won considerable renown that day by reason
of his leading the string of long-distance runners, and by such
remarkable time, he seemed to think more of the fact that he was
expected to get a rig, and take Dora to the farm of her parents, quite
a number of miles north of Columbia, where the Harrapin became almost
like a creek.

Lanky could look back to pleasant days spent at that same farm. And yet
he really believed that he had never contemplated visiting the Baxter
home with more lively anticipations of pleasure than on this occasion.

Promptly at the time appointed he drove up to the Allen house with
a horse and buggy. That it was not a thoroughbred Lanky privately
admitted to Frank, when the other joked him on the appearance of the
steed.

“That’s all right,” he said in Frank’s ear; “takes longer to get there.
Some people, when they’ve got a good thing, don’t know how to string
it out. I do. That’s why I declined the use of a horse that could go
a mile in three minutes. Why, honest now, Frank, this nag’s so steady
that the livery man said a one-armed boy could drive him.”

No doubt, on the long ride up to the farm a full explanation and
reconciliation took place between Lanky and Dora. He only too gladly
forgave her when she pleaded that she was only a silly little girl, but
that she had learned a lesson; and they agreed to be as good friends as
ever.

It must have been fully midnight when Lanky drove that “very steady”
horse at a pretty swift pace back into town, and the way the animal
covered the ground on the return journey might have surprised Dora,
could she have known of his performance.

And Lanky had good reason to feel rather well satisfied with the events
of that Saturday, which must always be marked with a white stone in his
history.

There was now only one more thing on his mind--the clearing of the
mystery concerning the identity of the little child in the gypsy camp.
No word had as yet come from the party to whom he had sent that long
message, costing himself and his chum more than three dollars. In
another week the great athletic meet was to take place.

“Well,” mused Lanky, as he prepared to go to bed in the small hours of
Sunday morning, after returning the rig to the livery stable where it
had been procured; “I hope something _will_ turn up before the gypsies
move away. I’d hate to spend all that coin for nothing; and never know
whether I was a smart guesser, or just a simple fool, for thinking that
baby girl could be the long-lost Effie Elverson. P’raps I’m due for
another little streak of luck. They say it always hunts in threes. But,
as Frank tells me, I mustn’t worry. This business came out jolly well;
and p’raps the other may. Wow! but I’m sleepy, though, and that bed
looks fine. So it is good-night for me.”




CHAPTER XV

AN ACCIDENT BETRAYS RUFUS


“I guess yesterday was your big day, all right, Lanky!”

Frank laughed as he made this remark. It was Sunday afternoon, and he
was taking a little stroll with his chum, “just to show the natives
that they were as fresh as daisies after that five-mile Marathon
yesterday,” as Lanky put it.

“Well, it did come pretty thick and fast, for a fact,” admitted the
one for whom the remark was intended. “But my mother had pity on me,
and let me sleep late this fine Sunday morning. Just got up in time to
dress, have my breakfast, and then go to church.”

“I’m sorry I missed that little affair on the river,” Frank went on.
“From all the accounts I heard, it must have been a great time.”

“It sure was a dandy picnic, Frank,” admitted the other, without
hesitation, and drawing in a long breath, as imagination once more
transported him back to the moment when he held Dora up with his right
arm, and used the left to keep both of them afloat.

“And you went all the way up to the Baxter farm afterwards, they say,
Lanky?”

“Oh! it isn’t so very far,” remonstrated the other. “The river makes a
lot of turns, you know; and when a fellow is skating, it seems longer
than when you’re in a buggy, on the main road, alongside a girl, and
there’s just _heaps_ to be explained.”

“That’s right, Lanky, it does,” replied Frank, with a knowing look.
“And I reckon it was all explained, too, long before you got to the
Baxter place?”

“Smooth sailing from this on, Frank,” the other quickly retorted. “You
see, when poor old Walter, with all his good looks, had to own up that
he couldn’t swim a little bit, with Dora in the river a-waitin’ for
somebody to do the rescue act, even if she can swim better’n any girl
around Columbia, it just made her disgusted with such a poor stick.
Anyhow, she told me she never had cared much for him, and was goin’
home from choir meetin’s with Walter just because she was mean, and
wanted to hurt me. But it’s all right now, Frank; and I guess we’re
better friends than ever before.”

“Well, that’s going some,” remarked Frank, knowingly. “But, Lanky,
how in the wide world did you put on such an immense amount of steam
in the last half mile? Why, I saw in a jiffy that I was a back number
yesterday, and there was no use of a fellow trying to head you off. You
went like the wind, I tell you. Give me the secret, if you don’t mind.
It might come handy in the big, long run.”

“Shucks! it’s nothin’, after all,” replied Lanky. “I just kept thinkin’
of her, and how sorry she’d feel that our friendship was busted, when
she saw me come in first, and heard everybody yelling. And she was,
Frank, she admitted that to me. Why, she even couldn’t help jumpin’
up, and clappin’ her little hands, forgettin’ right then that there
had ever been a wide gulf come between us. But it’s all right now,
Frank, and there’s no such silly spat goin’ to happen any more. We both
promised that.”

“Well, I’m glad that Walter has become a back number,” Frank observed;
“because I knew you were worrying a lot about losing such a good little
friend as Dora. You always did think a heap of her, right from the
start. Remember the time that tramp set their farmhouse afire, after
robbing them; and when we were skating up that way we had a roaring
time putting out the blaze?”

“That was sure a screaming old time, Frank; I think of it often, and
how pretty Dora did look, with her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.”

“Hold on, let’s change the subject,” broke in Frank, with a laugh. “I
suppose now, you’re beginning to think your wire went astray, and that
we’ll never hear from that Mr. Elverson?”

Lanky sobered up instantly.

“Say, three and a quarter gone up the flume, Frank,” he remarked,
shrugging his shoulders in an expressive way. “Not that I’m carin’ so
much for the hard cash, if only it ended in somethin’. But it comes in
too slow to be just thrown away like that.”

“Wait,” said Frank, as he had done before; “the game isn’t over yet,
by a long sight, Lanky. Sooner or later that message is just bound to
catch up with Mr. Elverson; and if he hasn’t found his little Effie
yet, it’ll bring an answer as fast as he can get it on the wires.”

“But the gypsies’ll sure vamoose long before that!” expostulated Lanky.

“Let ’em go,” Frank went on, as though he did not mean to worry over
such a little thing. “Between us we ought to be able to find out some
way to keep tabs on the tribe, no matter where they wander. And once
we hear from the gentleman, if he hasn’t found his girl, and she _did_
wear such a baby bonnet as you described, why, it’ll be easy to get on
a train, and go to the town near where they’re camped right then.”

“Of course it will, Frank,” Lanky admitted, brightening up like magic.
“There never was a chum like you to see ahead. The fog can’t get so
thick but what you manage to punch a hole in it, and glimpse light on
the other side. Why, of course we can do what you say. It’s easy as
fallin’ off a log.”

“Then stop bothering your head about it, Lanky.”

“Guess I will,” answered the tall boy, resolutely.

“I told you that other business would come out all right, sooner or
later; didn’t I?” Frank demanded.

“That’s straight goods, Frank.”

“And it did, you noticed, Lanky?”

“It sure did,” was the candid admission of the other; “but see here,
Frank, with all your smartness, I don’t reckon you ever dreamed it’d
happen the way it did, now?”

“Well, I should say not,” returned Frank, highly amused. “Why, I never
even had the slightest idea that you meant to go back to town aboard
that old tub of Ben Allison’s; or that a certain young lady would be a
passenger, too. And as to expecting Ben to steer into a sunken snag,
and knock Dora overboard, why, who’d ever dream of such a thing? And
it all worked out as fine as silk for you. But you seem to be wanting
to turn off the main road here, and take that one leading to Budd’s
Corners?”

“I see you’re onto me, all right,” confessed Lanky. “Fact is, Frank,
since we’re out for a little walk, I thought it wouldn’t matter much if
so be we turned in the direction of the gypsy camp.”

“Oh! I’m willing enough, if you promise me you won’t go to prowling
around when we strike there, so as to make the men folks notice us.
Remember, Lanky, once we give that sharp old queen any reason to
believe we’ve got an interest in what she’s got hidden away in that
wagon, the game’s up.”

“I hold up my hand and promise you to be careful,” the tall boy
returned, as he went through the performance. “But looky there what’s
comin’ along back of us like a house afire!”

“Only a boy on a bike, but he’s whooping it up rather fast,” Frank
admitted, as he turned his head to look.

“Say, I know that feller, all right,” Lanky declared, as the boy on the
wheel rapidly drew nearer to where they stood on the narrow road.

“Seems to me there’s something familiar about him, too,” said Frank.
“His name is Rufus, isn’t it, Lanky?”

“Right the first guess--Rufus Kline.”

“Wasn’t that the name of one of Bill Klemm’s cronies--Watkins Kline?”
continued Frank, still observing the approaching boy on the wheel.

“Yep; and they say his mother is nigh crazy because nobody’s seen
a sign of any of that crowd since they skipped out, after the
schoolhouse fire,” Lanky went on to say.

“Looks like Rufus must have been sent on an errand this fine Sunday
afternoon,” Frank next remarked; “because I notice that he’s got
something of a bundle tied to the handle-bars of his wheel. It’s clumsy
enough to make him wobble more than a little as he rides, too.”

“Huh! that surprises me some, too,” Lanky remarked, as he stood there,
watching the boy, who was now rapidly drawing nearer to them, and
appeared to be wondering whether the two meant to stand aside and let
him pass, or hold him up; in fact his actions seemed to indicate that
Rufus was bothered not a little.

“Why should it?” demanded Frank, always ready to learn facts when he
could.

“You see,” his chum hastily replied, “Mrs. Kline is a very religious
woman, which makes it all the more queer why she lets her boy go with
such fellers as Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes. Now, I never’d ’a’ believed
she’d sent Rufus on an errand, and carryin’ a package like that, on a
Sunday.”

“Oh! you never can tell,” replied Frank. “Perhaps he’s taking something
to a sick woman friend of hers. There are lots of times when rules have
to be broken, I reckon. But you don’t think of holding him up, just to
ask; do you, Lanky?”

“I thought I’d inquire, Frank, just from curiosity, you see,” with a
grin. “They say women-folks have all the curiosity there is, but I
notice that boys--yes, and men, too--seem to have their share.”

“Hey! get off the road there, and let me past!” called out Rufus,
slackening his speed somewhat, and looking bothered.

“Where you goin’ this fine Sunday afternoon, Rufus, and carryin’ that
big package, too?” demanded Lanky. “Don’t you dare run me down, or
somethin’ll happen right quick, understand. Keep off, now, I tell you!”

Something did happen, and just as speedily as Lanky had prophesied.
Rufus, in his eagerness to slip by, made a miscalculation; and being
also unbalanced by the sudden swinging of the large bundle hanging from
his handle-bars, he slipped off the road into the shallow ditch that
ran alongside.

As a natural consequence, boy and wheel came down with a crash.

“Oh! that’s too bad, Lanky; you’ve made him take a header!” exclaimed
Frank. “I hope he isn’t hurt!”

Rufus was struggling to regain his feet, feeling of his left leg at the
same time, and apparently hardly knowing whether to cry or get angry.
He finally compromised by whimpering.

“See what you did, Lanky Wallace, by bein’ mean, and wantin’ to take
the whole road?” he exclaimed, for Rufus was red-haired, and had a
temper, too, in the bargain.

Lanky stepped over to the wheel, and began to lift it out of the ditch.
Perhaps he was already sorry for interfering with the lone rider.
It had really been none of his business where the younger Kline boy
happened to be going on his bicycle. The fact that it was Sunday, and
Rufus had a strict mother, who would not on ordinary occasions allow
him to use his wheel on that day, might have excited Lanky’s curiosity,
but it was no excuse for him to crowd the boy off the road.

“I oughtn’t to have done it, Rufus,” Lanky spoke up, with evident
contrition in his voice and manner; “it was sure none of my business
where you happened to be meanderin’ this Sunday afternoon. The road is
free to everybody, gypsy as well as citizens of Columbia. Here’s your
wheel; and outside of this bent handle-bar it doesn’t look like there
was any damage done. I can straighten that in a jiffy.”

This he proceeded to do, after hauling the bicycle up on the road again.

“Frank,” he added, immediately afterward, “will you pick up that
bundle, and tie it on again to the handle-bar after I get it a little
straighter? It went flyin’ when the wheel slipped on the road, and
took a flop.”

But Rufus sprang forward, and snatched the package out of Frank’s
hands. There was almost a fierceness in his manner, that surprised the
other very much.

“Don’t you dare meddle with my things, Frank Allen!” he cried. “Guess
I can tie it up again myself, without any of your help. Next time
you fellers better keep to one side, and let a wheel go past without
blocking the road. It’s pretty small potatoes to have two big fellers
pick on one little boy!”

“That’s right, Rufus; and I’m ashamed of myself for botherin’ you,”
admitted Lanky; “there you are; and nobody’d ever know that handle-bar
had been twisted. It’s weak, anyway, and I reckon this isn’t the first
time she’s bent on you. Want me to give you a send-off, Rufus?”

“Naw!” snapped the boy, crossly; “just let me be; and as soon as I’ve
got this package of clothin’ my maw’s sendin’ to a sick woman, tied up
again, I’ll be all right. I’d thank you to keep away. I might ’a’ broke
my neck takin’ that header.”

He quickly fastened the recovered package to the front of the wheel,
and mounting from the rear, was off along the road. Lanky looked
queerly at Frank.

“That was a silly thing for me to do,” he said. “I ought to be ashamed
of myself to bother a smaller fellow. That curiosity is a terrible
business, Frank. But looky here, what ails you?”

“I was thinking, that’s all, Lanky. An idea seemed to just jump into my
mind. You noticed how he didn’t want me to tie up that bundle; didn’t
you?”

“Why, yes, he was some touchy, that’s a fact,” answered the other,
slowly, as if unable to understand what Frank was driving at.

“I saw something of what it contained; and Lanky, a sick woman might
want the loaf of bread, wedge of cake and the other food; but tell me,
what would she care for boy’s trousers made of corduroy, like the pair
I’ve seen Watkins Kline wear on Saturdays, when he was off playing?”

Lanky stared all the harder, but the truth began to seep into his brain.

“Tell me about that!” he exclaimed. “I see what you mean now, Frank;
Rufus is taking supplies to his brother, who is hiding somewhere in the
woods with Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes! And he didn’t want us to know
it.”




CHAPTER XVI

LANKY BECOMES A “BARKER”


“That’s what I was thinking, Lanky,” Frank remarked, smiling at the
excited appearance of his lengthy chum, who had never fully mastered
the secret of controlling his emotions.

“Well, now, if that don’t just beat the Dutch!” exclaimed the other, as
if almost too amazed to express himself properly. “And Frank, I don’t
believe either of us would ’a’ got on to the curves of Rufus, if it
hadn’t been for the accident he met with, that broke open his bundle.”

“You’re right there, Lanky,” answered Frank, nodding his head in the
affirmative.

“The boys are hiding out somewhere in the woods, afraid to come home,”
went on the tall boy, with a wide grin; “here days have passed, and yet
they haven’t showed up. Most people are shakin’ hands with themselves,
and sayin’ it’s a good riddance of bad rubbish; but their folks are
worryin’ some, Frank. It’s low-down mean of Watkins Kline to scare his
mother so bad. She never would believe he was bad, you know.”

“I wonder what’s up, and why they hang out there all this while?” Frank
mused.

“Tell you what I think,” remarked his companion, with a wise look; “I
reckon it’s all Bill Klemm’s doings.”

“What makes you say that, Lanky?”

“Why he daren’t come back, you see, till it blows over,” Lanky went on.
“They lay it all to Bill, and there was a lot of talk about havin’ him
sent off to the reform school. Ten to one Bill’s got wind of that, and
he’s bound to hang out till the people of Columbia forget the worst of
it. Then some fine day he’ll show up in his old haunts; and ’cept for a
ripple of talk, it won’t be noticed.”

“I guess you’ve hit the nail on the head, Lanky,” Frank continued,
approvingly. “And not wanting to stay out in the woods all alone, Bill
has put the screws on Asa and Watkins, keeping them for company.”

“That’s the talk, Frank, as sure as you’re born. P’raps they calculate
to drop in next Wednesday, when the whole place is wild with interest
in the athletic contests; and nobody’ll have time to bother any about
such small fry as three boys who’ve been makin’ trouble at school.”

The two had been walking swiftly along while chatting in this manner;
and were drawing near the crossroads known far and wide as Budd’s
Corners, because Tom Budd’s father owned most of the property round
about that section.

It was here the gypsy tribe camped, year after year. Their appearance
always created considerable of a stir through the country. Men visited
the camp to talk horse gossip with the knowing male members of the
tribe. Women sometimes accompanied them, on the pretense of “just
looking around,” and finding out how these nomads lived; but secretly
in the hope that a chance might arise whereby they could get their
fortune told by someone connected with the tribe, possibly the queen
herself.

There were a few couples in sight, even then, coming from or heading
toward the gypsy camp. The boys were glad to see this. It would serve
to keep any of the gypsies from suspecting that their visit had any
particular meaning.

“What do you suppose that crowd is standin’ there for, gapin’ at
somethin’ fastened to that tree yonder?” Lanky asked, as they drew near
the spot where the gay wagons, and the tents of the road wanderers,
could be seen among the trees.

“Looks like they might be reading some notice; and there are a number
of gypsies in the lot, too,” Frank replied.

“Shucks! I know,” exclaimed the other, suddenly.

“I think I’ve guessed it, too,” Frank went on to say. “I remember that
bill-poster said he had a few more notices of the meet to stick up;
and the chances are he’s been along here in his buggy. Pudge Watkins
wouldn’t stop because it was Sunday. You never saw him at church in
your life.”

“That’s what!” echoed Lanky. “And looks like the gyps might be some
stuck on that colored show-bill, too, Frank. Hope they like it well
enough to figure on staying around this section till after the athletic
stunts have been pulled off.”

“Suppose we stop here a bit, and listen to what they say?” suggested
Frank.

“I’ll go you on that idea,” replied Lanky. “It may put us wise about
what they mean to do.”

Accordingly the two lads drew in toward the group that stood in front
of the placard tacked to the tree, where it could be easily seen from
the road. Just as both of them had guessed, it was one of the posters
gotten up by the wide-awake committee of arrangements, telling in
glowing language of the splendid program that had been made up for the
coming Wednesday afternoon.

Of course the boys had read it many times before. Indeed, they knew
about the whole thing from beginning to end. And yet, as both their
names occurred among the numerous entries for the prizes about to be
competed for, it was only natural that they should be pleased to stand
there, and listen to the various comments.

Some of the gypsy men were curious about the nature of the affair.
Evidently they had never been given the privilege of witnessing such
a tournament; and feeling a certain amount of interest in things that
pertained to manly sports, they were even then trying to get additional
information by “pumping” an old farmer, who, with his wife and three
small children, happened to be sitting in a wagon near by.

As he turned out to be almost as unfamiliar with the nature of the
meet as the road-roamers themselves, their success was not very
flattering. A couple of very small town boys who had wandered out that
way endeavored to supply the lack of knowledge, but did not seem to be
making much progress when Frank and Lanky came along.

Some of the gypsy men turned to the new arrivals with a list of
questions, and Lanky was only too willing to answer to the best of his
ability.

“Greatest thing that you ever saw, or will see, if you live a thousand
years,” he went on, in a way that made Frank smile, thinking that
his chum might get an engagement as a “barker” for some side show to
a circus. “Yes, sir, there will be the greatest crowd in and around
Columbia that was ever known. You’ll be mighty sorry to miss it, I
tell you. And the farmers who want to trade horses, they always just
flock to these athletic meets. I reckon anybody could do more business
in that line in two days, than a week at other times.”

Frank saw some of the gypsies look at each other and nod, as though
they rather fancied the idea. Business with them was already the first
consideration. They may have thought that they had about exhausted the
horse trade around the immediate vicinity of Columbia; but if farmers
for a radius of twenty miles and more would be in town with their
vehicles on that wonderful occasion, well, that certainly put another
face on the matter.

“It’s working, Lanky,” Frank managed to say in a low tone to his chum.
“Keep it up, and you’ll get the whole lot to see things your way.”

“Huh! takes your Uncle Lanky to do the grand chinning act,” muttered
the tall boy, proudly. “I can soft-soap to beat the band, when I want
to. Got ’em started on the right track; and now I’ll just say a few
more words to clinch things.”

Some of the gypsies, after talking between themselves, started to
ask questions; and as these applied to the actual events that were
scheduled to take place, Frank felt that he could take it upon himself
to answer as well as his comrade.

He described some of the competitions that seemed to puzzle the
nomads, as shot-putting, throwing the hammer, hurdle racing, sack
racing, and such things so familiar to all schoolboys in these days.

The group grew around the two boys. Others of the campers began to
be drawn to the spot, as the two lads continued to talk and explain
things. Presently even a few of the women wandered that way; and the
children were already clustered in knots, listening, nodding their
black locks, and looking wise from time to time, as if what was Greek
to their elders might not be so unfamiliar to them.

Lanky was very much in earnest. He did not feel that the success of the
athletic meet depended at all upon whether the gypsies voted to remain
over a few more days or not; but he did believe that the carrying
out of the plans he and Frank had arranged would be affected by this
decision.

By degrees the men seemed to be impressed with the brilliant chance
that opened up before them for doing a land-office business in horse
trading with the army of “hoosiers” who Lanky declared would flock to
the meet, many of them remaining over in town several days to do their
summer shopping, thus killing two birds with one stone.

“I’ve got ’em on the jump, Frank,” he whispered to his chum, as he saw
the group of men excitedly discussing something that seemed to be of
considerable importance. “They’re set on stayin’ over, you see. Looky,
there goes a bunch back to camp; and I’m thinkin’ they’re going to see
the queen, to put the thing up to her. Hope now she listens to ’em, and
says stay.”

A few minutes later the same men came hurrying back.

“No use askin’ what they did, Frank,” remarked Lanky, exultantly; “just
take a peep at their grinning faces; doesn’t that tell the story?”

“I reckon you’re right, Lanky,” admitted the other, readily enough.

“That means they stay right here; doesn’t it, Frank? They’ll be on
hand if that telegram only happens to come along to-morrow, Tuesday
or Wednesday. Hope it gets a hustle on by then. If it doesn’t, I’ll
give the game up as a bad job, and call myself a poor detective, who
couldn’t detect a clue as big as Squire Perkins’ new barn.”

“Well, the way you ran this little dodge, and tempted the men to stay
over, tells me you’re going to do better things right soon!” declared
Frank.

“Do you really believe that?” demanded the other, who was always glad
to hear Frank praise him.

“I certainly do, Lanky. And what you’ve done right here is no little
job. It gives you the extension of time you wanted, and holds the gates
wide open.”

“They’re going to stay, Frank!” said Lanky in a low tone, after
listening to what those who had just come from the camp said to their
comrades still clustered near the tree bearing the flaming placard.
“Three days’ grace, Frank. Isn’t that just bully for us, though? Sure
that telegram must get here before all that time slips past. Say, our
folks might read us a lecture if they saw us here, blowing our horns
about the grand athletic tournament; but, Frank, when I just remember
what we’re doing it all for, I don’t feel that it’s wrong. I’d go
still further to help----” but his chum held up a finger, and gave a
significant warning hiss, to cut his impetuous exclamation short.




CHAPTER XVII

THE GYPSY QUEEN’S MOVE


“Unless you want to queer the whole business, Lanky, you’ve got to hold
yourself in check better,” Frank said, cautiously, making sure that
none of the gypsy men was close enough to hear him whisper in this
fashion.

“That’s right,” muttered the other, in a penitent fashion. “I’m always
forgettin’ and blurtin’ things out. And it’s sure lucky for me I’ve got
you handy to put me wise to things. I’ll try and chuck it from now on,
Frank, believe me, I will.”

“Then laugh right now, and don’t look as sober as if you’d got word
your great-grandfather’d died, and forgot you in his will,” Frank went
on to say, jokingly. “Because I can see someone watching us from the
big wagon of the queen, right now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s
spotted us as the two boys who were in the camp that other time, and
means to keep tabs on us.”

“Oh! I’ll be on my guard, I promise you, Frank,” Lanky went on to say,
with his teeth tightly clenched. “It’s a shame to upset all our fine
work by a mistake on my part. But do we turn away now; or hang around
the camp a little, to see if we can’t get a peep at that girl?”

“Might as well stay here a while,” was the reply his chum made. “It’d
look sort of queer if we pushed along in too big a hurry. What we want
to do is to act natural, and do what any fellow would be apt to, if he
just happened along.”

So they walked over to the camp. Most of the gypsies had returned by
now. After being so familiar with the two boys, and receiving such
important information from them, they seemed to look at Frank and Lanky
in rather a friendly way. The boys might wander all about now, and see
whatever they wanted, without being greeted by the usual black scowls.

“Say, Frank,” remarked Lanky, presently, as they were watching some of
the women hang a black kettle over a fire by means of a chain, that had
a hook at one end, the other being secured to a stout iron bar above.

“Well, what is it now?” asked his companion, without turning his head,
as he found himself very much interested in the operation.

“She’s beckonin’ to us!” Lanky continued, in a somewhat awed voice.

“Who do you mean?” asked Frank, beginning to take notice.

“The old lady, the queen bee of the hive, you know,” replied the other.

At that Frank turned his head.

“That’s right, she is,” he remarked; “and we’ll have to step over that
way, Lanky. Now, keep your wits about you, and don’t give yourself
away. Like as not she only wants to ask us some questions about the
athletic meet.”

They started toward the place where the old queen sat on a three-legged
stool, close to the steps leading up to the rear of the huge, painted
van that served as her house, as well as means of conveyance over the
roads.

Lanky felt sure he would now find some sort of opportunity for proving
whether his belief about the little girl could be founded on facts, or
imagination. At the same time he was inwardly resolved to let Frank do
most of the talking, content on his own part to just “look around.”

“You are the boy who brought me the paper to sign; am I right?” asked
the gypsy queen, as Frank reached her side.

“Yes, we were here the other day, and brought that paper,” he replied.

“My men have been telling me much about some sort of circus that will
be in your town this week; and they said you could explain what it
was?” she continued, keeping her sharp black eyes fastened on their
faces.

“Why, yes, sure we can,” Lanky spoke up. “Frank, oblige the lady; I’m
talked out.”

So Frank did explain about the rivalries of the three schools, and how
they came together at various times to find out which could excel in
all sorts of sports such as healthy boys like.

He described these things so well that he really interested the gypsy
woman. She could understand how boys liked such sports, for the lads of
the camp were always wrestling, boxing, shooting, or fishing, as the
chance arose.

Lanky could not keep his eyes away from the big wagon. It seemed to him
that he heard some sort of slight movement within the van; and no doubt
he was picturing in his mind the frightened, yet eager, little girl
crouching there, wanting to show herself to them, yet shrinking from
arousing the anger of the black-eyed old queen.

“Your friend seems to be interested in my new wagon,” remarked the
gypsy, suddenly, and Lanky started, fearing that he had betrayed a
fatal curiosity; but he drew a breath of relief when she continued,
using language that surprised Frank, as it told him the woman must have
a certain amount of education: “If you would like, I will be glad to
show you how it is arranged inside. It is what they call the last thing
in road wagons. And you have been kind to tell my people about the
chance of trading horses in the crowd that is coming to the circus.”

Frank saw her eyes sparkle while she was saying this. He immediately
guessed that she had a very good reason for talking in that way, though
he could not understand what it might be.

“If you don’t mind,” he remarked, showing a fair amount of eagerness,
“we would like to see how it is fixed inside. I’ve never really
examined one of these road wagons, and always wanted to.”

“Come inside with me, then, both of you,” continued the queen, rising
from her stool, and starting up the three steps leading to the closed
door.

Frank heard Lanky draw a long breath. He laid a hand on the other’s arm
as they started after the gypsy woman; and Lanky understood that this
was meant for a warning to him.

“All right, Frank,” he muttered, calming down again.

When the door of the big van had been opened, the interior was exposed
to view. And the first thing the two lads discovered was a girl of
about eight or nine years of age, sitting curled up on a cushion. She
had big dark eyes, and hair that was almost purplish black. Her skin
was as dusky as that of any of the men.

“This is my grandchild,” explained the old woman, with something
like pride in her voice, for the girl was decidedly handsome, though
very bold looking. “When I die she will be the queen after me. It is
understood by the tribe. She comes of royal blood, does Mena.”

Then she began to explain what the many appliances were for, that they
saw in the wagon. The girl seemed to understand that she had better go
away while the old queen was telling these two town boys about her new
van, for she left the vehicle.

Lanky followed her with his eyes. Frank could see a puzzled expression
on the face of his chum, and that he was shaking his head, as though
unable to make out how he had come to mistake a girl like that for a
little thing begging for his assistance.

Evidently Lanky’s ambition had dropped until it was now very near the
zero mark.

Frank was genuinely interested in all the wonderful arrangements which
the new traveling van had for sleeping, cooking, and even writing;
though a gypsy is not supposed to do much of this last.

He asked numerous questions, just as the men had done when seeking
information concerning the coming athletic contests. And the old woman
did not seem at all averse about telling him whatever he wanted to know.

Frank, however, was not so wrapped up in his desire to learn facts
but what he could use his eyes to good advantage. And he noticed that
several times while she was thus explaining things, the old gypsy would
shoot a triumphant glance over in the direction of Lanky.

Apparently she must have guessed something of the motive that
influenced that Columbia High student to wander out to the camp on this
Sunday afternoon. And no doubt she was chuckling to herself over her
success in hoodwinking Lanky. His blank face gave her satisfaction,
Frank felt sure. And he believed he knew the reason for it, too.

After spending at least fifteen minutes in the big van talking with the
owner, who seemed much more intelligent than Frank had ever believed
any gypsy could be, the boys made a move as if to go.

“Will you come again?” she asked, seeming to direct the query toward
Lanky; and that worthy took it upon himself to reply.

“I hardly think so. You see, we’re in the big run that winds up the
meet, and after school we’ll have to be practicing, so as to keep in
condition. Besides,” with a sigh, “I guess we’ve seen _everything_
now.”

Lanky was plainly much disheartened as he started to leave the gypsy
camp. He even failed to answer the parting remarks from several of
the men, who seemed to rather look upon the two boys in the light
of friends, after receiving so much information that promised to be
valuable to them as horse traders. And so Frank had to wave a good-bye
for both of them.

They walked down the road side by side, heading toward the town. Lanky
appeared to be wrapped up in his gloomy thoughts, and presently Frank
gave him a sly punch in the ribs, bringing out a grunt.

“What ails you, old chum?” demanded Frank, in a joking tone. “You pull
a long enough face to stand for seven first-class funerals.”

“It’s all off, Frank!” grumbled the other.

“Oh! you mean the little racket you were working; is that what makes
you look so sad?” demanded Frank.

“I was foolish and that’s the trouble!” said Lanky savagely.

“Well, I don’t like to dispute a gentleman’s word, when he’s bent on
giving an opinion of himself; but I’d like to know why you say that?”
Frank remarked.

“To think that I’d mistake that half-grown gypsy girl for a little one
has me badgered some, I tell you, Frank.”

“Perhaps after all, Lanky, you didn’t make such a big mistake as you
think!”

“What’s that you’re giving me, Frank; not taffy, I hope?” cried the
tall boy, as he whirled around on his companion, eagerly.

“There may have been a small child in that wagon, Lanky, when we first
came near the gypsy camp. I didn’t tell you before; but the fact is,
I sure saw the old woman hustle some little figure, bundled in a red
shawl, down those three steps, and then another gypsy woman lead her
off into the woods!”

“Oh! Frank, is that so?” burst from the delighted Lanky, his eyes
sparkling once more with renewed interest. “You saw all that, did you,
when we were talking with the gypsy men? Aren’t you the swift bunch,
though, to get on to everything, while I stand around with my mouth
open, but my eyes stuck fast? Then she sent the little girl away, and
asked us to take a look around in her wagon just to pull the wool over
my eyes? And, Frank, she’d ’a’ done it for me, right up to the notch,
only for you being so smart!”




CHAPTER XVIII

FINDING OUT


Lanky was once more himself. The look of gloom had vanished from his
thin face, and he turned an eager glance on his comrade.

“I’ve been thinking,” Frank went on, slowly, as he sometimes did when
he was trying to grasp an idea, “that we ought to do something to
settle this business about whether there really is a little child in
the charge of the old queen, or not.”

“Hear! hear!” burst out the other, pretending to clap his hands.

“If it turns out that there isn’t any such thing as the child you
believed tried to attract your attention, then the sooner we give up
all this foolishness, why, the better; you understand, Lanky?”

“But if there _is_ such a little girlie, Frank?”

“We’ll stay in the game, make sure of that,” replied the other, in a
determined tone that told Lanky what he might expect.

“Oh! I agree with you all right, about that, Frank,” he observed; “but
the question is, how under the sun can we do it? That sly old queen
knows how to slip the child away every time we happen to be seen coming
around the camp.”

“Well, we must make out _not_ to be seen, then, next time,” was the
matter-of-fact way Frank put it.

“Do you mean we’ll sneak back, and see what’s goin’ on, right now;
sorter creep up through the bushes, Injun fashion, and peep, unbeknown
to any of the gypsies? Tell me, is that what’s got you, Frank?”

“Well no, hardly that, Lanky,” replied the other. “In the first place
it’s getting kind of late, and I promised to be home by five, sharp.
Then, though perhaps you haven’t noticed it, there’s a gypsy boy
trailing us right now. No, don’t turn around and look, because that
would tell him we knew all about his following us. Wait till we get to
that bend, and then you can see without showing that you’re bothering
your head about him.”

“Wow! that’s what I call going some, Frank,” remarked Lanky, presently.

“You saw him then; didn’t you?” asked the leader of the boys.

“Right you are; and he’s certain sure follerin’ us, to see that we
don’t play a double game, and sneak back in the direction of the
camp,” was Lanky’s admission.

“And you can understand that a boy wouldn’t be up to any such trick
unless some other person had told him to do it?” Frank continued, with
convincing force.

“That must mean she did it,” Lanky admitted.

“The old queen, and no other. So, you see, we couldn’t turn back now
without her knowing about it; and that would give the alarm. Why, by
to-morrow morning these same gypsies would be miles away on the road to
nowhere; and it’d be the hardest kind of business getting on the track
of them again.”

“Well, when _can_ we come back?” asked Lanky; “to-morrow afternoon?”

“For one, I don’t feel like waiting that long,” the other declared.

“Say, could we try it to-night, Frank?” asked Lanky, eagerly.

“I’m willing to come,” replied his companion; “if your folks will
let you out. Look over here to the right, and you’ll see a little
rise of ground. And, Lanky, if a fellow sat on top of that, with a
pair of field glasses in his hands, what would hinder him from seeing
everything that happened in the camp?”

“There’s a clear line between, as sure as anything,” admitted the other.

“And if they have their fires going, as they generally do in the early
evening, why, the glass would work O. K. I’ve looked through it at the
moon, and Jupiter, Venus and that crowd of worlds in the night sky. Is
it a go, Lanky?”

“Put her there, Frank,” replied Lanky, thrusting out a hand with a
boy’s impetuosity. “Why, I’d back you up, no matter what sort of a
harum-scarum scheme you gave me. But this isn’t anything like that; I
consider that it’s the boss idea. Why, we can crawl up there and just
watch for keeps, without a single gyp bein’ any the wiser. Call it a
go, Frank!”

“Then that’s settled, and I’ll meet you at the big elm at, say, seven,”
Frank proposed. “It doesn’t get real dark till after eight nowadays,
you know; and we’ll have plenty of time to wander up this road.”

Lanky was greatly pleased over the new development. Coming on the tail
of his recent gloom, it was all the more acceptable to him. When he
later on parted company with his chum, his last words were:

“Don’t fail to be there at seven sharp, Frank! It’d knock me into
flinders if you didn’t show up. I’d be tempted to come alone, and make
the try, though chances are I’d only turn it into a foozle by my
clumsiness.”

“You can depend on me,” was what the other said, positively.

Frank would have liked to take his father fully into his confidence,
and get his sanction for the strange little errand that was about to
occupy the time of himself and Lanky that night. But it happened that
Mr. Allen had stayed at the house of a friend whom he had been visiting
that afternoon; and Frank’s mother was lying down, with a headache; so
it seemed that even had he wanted to, he could not have taken either of
his parents into his secret just then.

A little before seven he went out, without anyone paying any particular
attention to his action. Possibly the mother supposed Frank was going
to church, for he and Lanky both sang in the volunteer choir.

But the boy really believed he had good reasons for absenting himself
from his regular seat in the organ loft that night. And under his coat
he carried the field glasses which he had spoken of to his chum.

Lanky was waiting for him, and kicking his heels against the base of
the big tree that had been appointed as a place of meeting.

“Gee! aren’t you late, Frank?” he asked, a little pettishly.

Just then the church clock boomed out the hour of seven, as if saving
Frank the trouble of making a reply.

“I reckon I’ve been here half an hour, and countin’ the minutes,”
admitted Lanky, candidly, as they started off on a brisk walk.

Evening was just coming on, and there were some clouds covering the
heavens as the sun went down, which gave Lanky new cause for anxiety.
He would not be happy a single day if things went too smoothly.

“Reckon now there’s a storm just wantin’ to sail along this way, to
upset all our calculations about Wednesday,” he grumbled.

“Oh! I guess not,” Frank tried to console him by saying; “weather
reports say dry weather and warmer for the whole eastern half of the
country for the first three days of the week, beginning to-morrow. I
looked it up this morning. Forget it, and let’s think only of what
we’re trying to do right now.”

When they saw anyone approaching they stepped into the nearby woods,
and let the other pass by. Perhaps this looked a little suspicious,
but then Frank was afraid that one of the gypsy men might happen that
way, and hurry back with a report that was apt to create some little
excitement in the queen’s van.

“Aren’t we gettin’ pretty near that little rise, Frank?” asked Lanky,
when they had been making progress for some time.

“Be there in five minutes or so,” was the confident reply; for Frank
had the happy faculty of taking note of distances, by objects to be
seen along the way; and as a rule he was able to tell to a fraction
just where he was, when going over a route he had traversed before.

He turned out to be a true prophet, too; for about the time that limit
had expired Lanky remarked in a thrilling whisper:

“I can see the rise right now, Frank; we’d better turn off the road,
too, because there’s somebody coming with a rig. It might be one of
those jockeys from the camp.”

Frank hastened to comply with the suggestion, and they were soon making
their way through the woods that led up to the bare mound, which the
boys had selected as a place for making their observation.

They crept along with extreme caution, because the camp was not far
off, and both of them feared lest a gypsy man might be wandering around
about that time, and would discover them unless they used unusual care.

Presently they ascended the little rise.

“Say, this is a good place to see from, all right,” commented Lanky.

Frank, instead of replying, was starting to focus the field glasses on
the camp of the nomads, plainly seen through the open lane. Although
night had by this time fallen fully, several fires were burning in the
camp, and these lighted up the entire place where the wagons and tents
were.

The gypsies were either moving about, or else sitting near the fires,
evidently eating their supper. Lanky almost held his breath while Frank
looked.

“See anything of her?” he asked, finally, unable to hold out longer.

“Take a chance, and see for yourself,” was the reply, as the glasses
were thrust into his hands; and there was a note of satisfaction in
Frank’s voice that gave the other a thrill.

He quickly held the ends of the twin tubes to his eyes, and ten seconds
later Frank heard him chuckle, as though greatly pleased.

“She’s there, Frank, sure as you’re born!” Lanky ejaculated.

“Softly, now, old fellow,” warned Frank.

“You saw her; of course you did, Frank?” continued the tall boy,
quivering with delight. “She’s eating beside that girl we met--Mena,
the queen called her. There, the old woman is scolding her, Frank! I
can see her shaking a finger at the child, and I believe the little
thing’s crying, too.”

“What happened?” asked Frank.

“The old queen leaned over and slapped the little thing twice right on
her ear. She’s pointin’ up at the wagon right now; and, yes, siree, the
girl climbs in, as if she was afraid to stay outside any longer. Frank,
that settles it; doesn’t it? The girl is there, we know that now; don’t
we?”

For answer Frank clutched his chum’s groping hand, and squeezed it.

“And we keep right along in the game, waitin’ to hear from Mr.
Elverson; don’t we, Frank?”

“That’s what we do; and I’m hoping that it comes out just as you’re
expecting, Lanky, because you sure have got yourself keyed up to
top-notch speed right now. But perhaps we’d better be getting back to
town. If we hurried, we might reach there by eight, and lend a hand at
that anthem in the choir.”

“Oh! I’m willing, all right, Frank,” declared the now light-hearted
Lanky; “we just hit the right nail on the head when we came out here,
and spied on that camp. Poor little thing! Say, that old woman’s got a
temper, all right; and I reckon that child ought to be taken away from
her, even if she doesn’t prove to be the long-lost Effie Elverson. Come
on, Frank, let’s run a little along the road.”




CHAPTER XIX

THE GREAT DAY


It was Wednesday at last.

Time had dragged fearfully to all the young people in Columbia; and
doubtless the same could be said of Clifford and Bellport, during those
last two days of school.

The annual examinations would soon be coming on, so that it was just as
well that the great athletic meet should be carried through before this
period of stress.

And it was a glorious day, too, with a clear sky, and not too hot for
the strenuous work which those young athletes expected to engage in.

All morning vehicles kept coming into the town of Columbia, some of
them from great distances, and containing entire families. The former
meetings of the three rival schools in various contests had resulted in
such thrilling scenes that their fame had gone far afield; consequently
farmers hitched up, and gave the entire day to merry-making with their
families.

As afternoon came along the crowds began to flock out along the road
leading to the field where Columbia always held these events. As has
been stated before, this was about a mile from town, and somewhat down
the river, the trolley from Bellport, which was being extended to
Clifford at the time, leaving loads of eager spectators at a point near
the grounds.

An hour before the time set for the start of the exercises it seemed as
though every seat in the grand-stand was taken; and even the bleachers
had overflowed into the field. Apparently the day would see such a
throng as Columbia had never before drawn together in all her history.

Young athletes were as plentiful as blackberries in August. They could
be seen here, there, and everywhere; some exercising to keep in trim
for the coming of the event in which they expected to take part; others
conferring with the coach, or chatting with groups of admiring friends.

It was a poor contestant who did not have at least a few devoted
adherents, who declared it to be their honest opinion that he was bound
to make all the others in the same event “look like thirty cents,” as
they were fond of putting it.

Lanky was the center of a great deal of attention. After his
phenomenal run of the trial day, he was looked upon as the one best
hope of Columbia in the long race, which some of the boys called a
Marathon, though it could be hardly classed under that head.

Of course they still had faith in Frank Allen and Bones Shadduck,
either one of whom they believed could win in case any unlucky accident
happened that would cripple the long-legged racer, who looked like a
greyhound as he stepped so lightly around among his fellow students.

Clifford and Bellport had their legions present. They seemed to mass
together as a rule, so that they might make the most noise, and thus
encourage their respective candidates for high honors.

The noise began to be deafening, what with boys yelling; horns tooting;
girls singing their class songs; and automobiles honking merrily, as
they came in shoals, to leave their passengers or secure positions
where the latter could sit still, and see all that was going on.

Chief Hogg was there, and looking spick and span in a new uniform,
with his silver shield glittering as splendidly as a newly polished
decoration could appear. He had his assistants all in line; and in
addition there were a dozen deputy sheriffs sworn in for the occasion
by the high official who graced the meet with his presence.

Once upon a time there had been nearly a riot come about at one of
these athletic affairs, caused by some turbulent spirits; and the
committee in charge had determined to leave no stone unturned on this
occasion to prevent a recurrence of that sad event, when several heads
were broken by flying stones.

Roderick Seymour, who was said to have been the best leader Columbia
ever had, was taking charge of things on this particular day, having
come home from the city, where he was in business, especially to see
Columbia boys once more show their mettle, and to hear again that
slogan:

“Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! _veni! vidi! vici!_ we came, we saw, we
conquered! Columbia! Rah!”

Ah! how it must have thrilled that graduate, as he listened again
to it pealing from the throats of the score or two of boys whom the
cheer captain, Herman Hooker, was leading in the concerted shout! What
memories it must have awakened in the mind of Roderick Seymour, who
during his four years in the school had always held the respect of
every boy worth knowing, as a lover of clean sport, and of a square
deal. It was surely worth coming two hundred miles just to see such
inspiring sights, and listen to that battle cry of Columbia as she
again faced her bitter rivals of Bellport and Clifford, always eager to
make her athletes take their dust.

“Hello! Frank!” was the way Lanky greeted his chum, whom he had not
seen that day up to the minute they met.

“You’re feeling pretty perky, I reckon, Lanky,” remarked the other,
smiling as he saw the look of confidence upon the thin face of the tall
runner.

“Never felt better in my life, Frank; and if I fall down to-day I ought
to quit trying the long-distance act. But, Frank, if you happen to run
across a messenger boy who looks like he was huntin’ somebody, just
remember me; won’t you?”

“What’s up?” questioned Frank, laughing at the earnest air of his
friend.

“Why, you see, I just got a hunch that there might a telegram come for
me while the meet was takin’ place,” Lanky explained; “and so I told
Conrad at the station that if so be anything came buzzing along the
wires, meant for Lanky Wallace, he ought to send a messenger down here
on the jump with it.”

“And did he promise he would?” asked Frank.

“Huh! he just had to,” grunted Lanky. “Why, right now there isn’t a
feller in all Columbia that’d dare deny me anything I wanted. Conrad
said he’s bound to do it, because he’s been and heard that like as not
I’m goin’ to be the one that’ll win the long-distance run; and somehow
they all think that, Frank, just because I had that little spurt the
other day, you know.”

“Well,” said Frank, impressively, “just you see that you have another
of the same kind to-day; and make those people from Bellport and
Clifford take notice. They’ve made a lot of changes in their runners
from last season, and think they’ve got it in for poor old Columbia.
That’s the way they talk, Lanky; but some of the boys were here to see
you come in Saturday, and _they_ know better.”

“Yes, I hear that Coddling, their old pitcher in Bellport, has
blossomed out something in the phenom class as a long-distance runner;
and I guess, Frank, that we’ll have to keep an eye on that tricky old
scout more’n anybody else.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. There’s a new fellow up in Clifford that
they say never gets tired, and can come in from a ten-mile skip without
hardly a hair turned. That may be just talk, or as you say, hot air;
but, Lanky, don’t be over-confident. It’s all well enough to be _sure_
you can win; but never let up in your pace because you think you’ve got
the thing cinched. A swift runner may dash past you in a second, and
after that it’s up to you to get him! because he sets the pace, not
you.”

“Frank, it’s mighty good of you giving me these pointers, and you going
to be a runner in the long race, too.”

“Oh! whether I win, or you, or Bones, makes little difference to me,
so long as the Columbia purple and gold crosses the line first. That’s
what we call school loyalty, you know, Lanky. Of course it’s always
fine to be the one to get all the cheer, but first of all the school!
But there goes the head man of the committee climbing the band stand.
The music’s stopped, so I reckon the games are going to begin pretty
quick now.”

After the great throng could be quieted down, the heavy voice of the
gentleman who had agreed to serve as the head of the arrangements
committee started to address the thousands gathered in that field
devoted to boys’ sports.

As briefly as possible he explained what clean athletic games would do
for the maintenance of health in the bodies of those engaging in them
up to a reasonable limit; and also what grand times the three schools
had had in the past. He congratulated the people of the towns lying
along the Harrapin that there had been so little unpleasant friction
in the past; and expressed the hope that the present meeting of their
representative young athletes would further cement the bonds of good
fellowship among the boys of Columbia, Clifford and Bellport.

After the hearty cheers had subsided he started again to tell of the
various contests that had been arranged, as well as to mention a list
of prizes donated by the leading merchants of the three places, and
which would be awarded to the winners in the numerous events.

Then the first contest was called, and immediately everybody in that
great throng became intensely interested.

It was a fifty-yard dash; and there were just nine contestants; since
the limit had been placed at three for each school.

In this tournament it had been wisely decided to let each contest stand
on its own merits. There were just seventeen events, and as each would
count just one point, the school winning a plurality of these prizes
would be adjudged the grand champion for the season in track and field
athletics.

In this way even the absurd sack race would count just as much as the
ten-mile run. But what was fair for one was fair for all, and there was
no grumbling because of these arrangements.

As their event was scheduled to come off at the very last of the meet,
Frank and Larry could take things easy, while waiting for the time to
arrive when the long-distance race would be called.

“Have you noticed that quite a lot of our dark-faced friends of the
gypsy camp are present?” Lanky asked his chum, as they stood waiting
for the crack of the pistol which would send the sprinters on their
furious rush over the short distance that had been marked out for them.

“Yes, and I saw a couple talking with a farmer,” replied Frank,
laughing. “Guess they’ve got a dicker on with him, from the way they
acted. Say, they’ll be glad they took your advice, and held over here.
Perhaps they’ll do the biggest day’s business ever. Look at that
Clifford football snapback, will you? They say he’s winged lightning on
the short dash; and I want to see if it’s so.”

“Well, the referee is gettin’ ready to send the bunch off, so keep your
good eye peeled on him then; because if he can go that fast, we might
lose sight of him altogether. Wow! they’re off, Frank! That was a great
start, I tell you!”




CHAPTER XX

CLIFFORD’S NEW HOPE


Almost before some of the crowd knew it had begun, the fifty-yard dash
was over. Coddling had won!

“White Wings just flew the coop, and landed the first prize!” whooped a
wild Clifford enthusiast, as he jumped up and down in his excitement.

“And we’ve got a few surprises like Coddling up our sleeve, Columbia!”
cried a second proud student, who wore the colors of the down-river
school.

“He did carry it off, sure as anything!” remarked Lanky, feeling a
little discouraged. “And I thought our man, Paul Bird, had a sure
thing.”

“Paul entered in the wrong class there,” remarked Frank. “Just wait
till you see him run in the hundred-yard race, and the quarter-mile.
They’ve got them so scattered that he can rest up good, between each
one. Didn’t you notice that while the Clifford fellow went like the
wind at first, Paul was cutting down his lead in great shape when they
crossed the line?”

“That’s a fact, Frank,” admitted Lanky.

“If that race had been twice as far, Paul would have had him easily
beaten. Well, let Clifford roar all she wants, right now; perhaps the
poor thing won’t have another chance to whoop it up all day.”

“She generally does get it in the neck, somehow, before the end comes,”
admitted Lanky. “There never was such luck, the Clifford boys say. But,
all the same, Frank, they are talking loud about what they’re going to
do to us in that long run.”

“They’re welcome to say what they please,” the other remarked, calmly.
“Talk is cheap, and boasting hurts no one but those who carry it to
excess. The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof. We’ll talk
less, and _do_ something, Lanky.”

“That’s the stuff, fellows!” cried a Columbia boy who happened to be
passing, and caught the last few words of what Frank said.

“There comes the new Clifford runner, who’s going to make us look like
thirty cents, they say. What’s his name, Frank; did you notice it on
the program?” Lanky asked.

“Larry Parker,” Frank replied; “and I rather think he’s coming right
over now to take a look at the three Columbia fellows who will be
against him in that race. Of course he’s heard a heap about your
doings on Saturday; and he means to size you up. We’ll have to be
agreeable to him, remember, Lanky. This is our ground, and to-day
Clifford and Bellport are our guests.”

“Sure thing,” muttered the tall lad, eyeing the approaching runner; who
had a large “C” on his sleeveless shirt to indicate to which school he
belonged, just as if the colors he sported would not do that.

Evidently Larry Parker was somewhat of a breezy sort, for he came up to
the two Columbia boys, whom he had never met before, and extended his
hand.

“Hello! fellows!” he exclaimed. “I’m told that this is Frank Allen, and
Lanky Wallace, two of Columbia’s star long-distance runners. And as I’m
entered in that little jaunt myself this afternoon, with a few foolish
Clifford boys thinking I’ve got a fighting chance to win, thought
I’d like to know you a little, before I see the last of you over my
shoulder.”

There was a cool assurance about the fellow that impressed Frank
against him. It was not that he felt the utmost confidence in himself,
for that is no crime; but he acted as though treating the others with
disdain.

Frank did not like the face he saw. There was a sly, crafty expression
on it, he believed. To his mind, then, this new Clifford hope, Larry
Parker, would not hesitate about descending to trickery, if by means
of it he might increase his chances for winning his race. The means
did not count in such a fellow’s mind, only what lay at the end. And
in this case the handsome prize offered was a gold watch, surely worth
exerting one’s very best powers in the hope of winning.

Another thing Frank noticed, for he was quick to discover little items
that might stand for a great deal.

“Um! a cigarette smoker, eh?” was what he said to himself, as he saw
that the first and second fingers of the other’s hand were stained
yellow; and Frank knew just what that meant. “Chances are, that if he’s
a good runner now, he won’t be a year from to-day. And I’d like to
wager a good deal that he falls down in the last part of this ten-mile
race. So this is the chap who never turns a hair after he’s clipped off
his cool ten, is it? I guess he won’t win against a clean fellow like
Lanky, with no bad habits to weaken him for the strain.”

Frank knew that Larry Parker had only come across from the Clifford
benches to size them up at close quarters. He was doubtless trying to
discover some signs of weakness about them. Besides, it might pay him
to know two of the contestants before the race was called.

He stood there, and chatted for a little while, laughing at some of
the accidents that accompanied the next few events. One fellow from
Bellport, who tried to beat Jack Comfort’s throw of the weight, forgot
to let go; and was whirled around like a teetotum, or a dancing dervish
as seen over in Northern Africa. They took him off the field with a
dislocated shoulder, so that he needed the attention of a doctor.

Frank did not like the way Larry Parker seemed to enjoy a thing like
this. On his part he felt genuinely sorry for the poor chap; but the
Clifford newcomer looked on it as extremely funny.

Watching his hands after this, Frank noticed that they seemed to
tremble constantly, which was a rather strange thing in a mere lad.

“That’s what they say excessive cigarette smoking will do for a fellow,
Lanky,” he managed to whisper in the ear of his chum a little later on;
for be it told, Lanky at several times had been known to indulge in
a smoke of the “coffin nail,” as he scoffingly called it. “Watch his
hands, and see them flutter. It acts on his heart. If he keeps it up, a
year from now he’ll never be able to run at all.”

Lanky gave a grunt, and turned a little red; but immediately looked
away. It was apparently more satisfactory to turn his eyes toward
that corner of the stand where a certain little rosy-cheeked girl
sat, waving her Columbia flag every time he looked that way. And
doubtless the sight of Dora Baxter inspired Lanky with more and more
determination to do himself proud on this day.

Presently the wiry-looking Clifford athlete betook himself off,
apparently satisfied with his view of his two rivals at close quarters.

“What do you think of him, Frank?” asked Lanky. “Is he the great wonder
they say, and do we need to fear him?”

“He’s got all the points of a good runner in his make-up,” replied
Frank. “To tell the truth, he makes me think of some of the Indian
long-distance runners whose pictures I’ve got at home--Longboat in
particular. Yes, if that fellow let tobacco alone, and paid attention
to himself, I rather think he’d look at the bunch of us over his
shoulder as he led the procession all along the ten miles.”

“But he does use cigarettes; I saw his stained fingers,” Lanky went on;
“and do you expect that is going to hurt his chances?”

“I don’t doubt it any more than I doubt my eyes when I see you in front
of me,” Frank went on, earnestly. “And another thing, Lanky, I must say
I don’t admire his face very much.”

“Why, what’s the matter with it, Frank? Now, all things considered, I
was sayin’ to myself that he’s a heap handsomer than Lanky Wallace ever
can be.”

“Oh! well, we’re not talking about good looks now, you know,” laughed
Frank. “Anybody could take just one glance at your face, and know that
he’d be able to trust you to the limit. But, Lanky, there was something
that I think bordered on treachery and cunning in his shifty eyes, and
the sneer on his face.”

“Whew! that’s layin’ it on pretty thick, Frank!”

“I wouldn’t think of saying it to a living soul, only you; and I do it
now because I honestly believe that fellow would be mean enough to do
something to disable you, if he saw that you were going to pass him,
and no one seemed to be looking. He would stick out his foot, and trip
you, hoping you’d strain an ankle in the tumble, and have to give up.”

“Great governor! you don’t say so, Frank!” ejaculated Lanky; “but he
might know I’d tell it on him after I did limp in!”

“And he’d claim that it was entirely unintentional on his part--that
he slipped, and came near falling himself, when he tripped you. All I
want to remark is this, Lanky; keep your eye on him, and look out for a
trick, if you do start to go ahead of him. That fellow believes in the
rule or ruin policy, if ever it was written on a boy’s face. But see,
here comes the sack race; it ought to be funny enough to make us forget
all our troubles.”

The crowd was in a mood for something comical; and if sack races are
properly conducted, they afford plenty of fun; except for some of the
unfortunate participants who in falling manage to skin their noses.

As the sacks had been secured from a regular sporting goods house in
the city they were made substantially, and doubly reinforced at the
bottom. Being tied around the necks of the contestants there was no
possible way in which they could make use of their arms in order to
block a stumble, or save themselves in the event of a fall.

At the signal they all started hopping or wriggling along in such
manner as each bagged contestant thought would best advance his
interests. And soon the vast crowd was shrieking with laughter to see
the comical sight, as each lad made the most desperate efforts to get
ahead.

“Almost down to the last event, Lanky,” said Bones Shadduck, an hour
later, crossing over to where a number of the Columbia boys stood
clustered around Frank and the tall boy.

“If Bellport takes this pole vault, as I’m afraid she will,” declared
Buster Billings, dejectedly, “the score will stand a tie between
Columbia and Bellport, with seven wins apiece, and two for Clifford.
That means you’ve just _got_ to come in ahead of the Bellport runners,
Lanky, Frank or Bones. Oh! please get wings on your feet, and don’t let
those Bellport crowds go through Columbia this afternoon, shouting and
howling like crazy Indians, because they’ve licked us at last!”

“Well, here goes the pole vaulting contest,” remarked another Columbia
student; “and Captain Lee looks fit to jump over a two-story house.
He’s bound to beat our man, Ginger Harper, hand over fist.”

His words turned out to be the truth, for Cuthbert Lee easily beat the
best record that either of his contestants could hang up. This made the
excitement intense; for as the nine long-distance runners came slowly
to the scratch, everybody realized that the score was tied between
Bellport and Columbia, just as it used to be in a tight baseball game.
And if one of their entries won this last match, the long run, it would
mean victory for his school!

And knowing this, the runners themselves were nerved to do their level
best when they drew up in a line, and began to get ready to jump at the
crack of the pistol.




CHAPTER XXI

WHAT HAPPENED TO BONES


Crack!

It seemed to the mass of spectators, craning their necks to see what
took place, as though that whole line of lithe runners sprang forward
as one.

Every fellow doubtless had his favorite way of waiting for the signal;
though a quick start is of far less importance in a long run of ten
miles than when the race is a short dash. Some crouched in all sorts of
weird attitudes, doubtless assumed for effect; but several simply stood
with the body bent for the plunge.

“They’re off!” shrieked hundreds of voices, as the nine boys were seen
to speed away like the wind.

Eager eyes followed their every move, for everything depended on the
result of this race; that is, with Bellport and Columbia. If Clifford
won, why the other two schools would of course be simply tied for
honors; and must have another test at some later date. This would be
a bad thing all around, since the tension under which the pupils
would continue to labor must affect their ability to pass the annual
examinations with credit.

Many became anxious because the new wonder from Clifford, Larry Parker,
had shot into the lead, and seemed capable of increasing the distance
between himself and his competitors at will.

“It’s a walkaway!” whooped the Clifford boys; for if they could only
pull off the most important event of the great day, that victory would
go far toward healing the wounds caused by the poor showing of their
athletes in other contests.

But very few Columbia fellows were anxious at this early stage in the
race. They knew only too well that ten miles was a long distance to
cover, and all sorts of things could happen before the goal was in
sight.

“Frank and Lanky and Bones make a team that is simply unbeatable!”
they continued to say, one to another, as the last of the nine runners
vanished from view up the road in the distance.

“Yes,” others would add, “don’t we know the tactics of Frank Allen to
a dot? You never would catch him letting himself out in the start of
a grilling ten-mile run, like that new fellow does. He works up to
it by degrees, and the result is at the last quarter he feels fresh,
while the sprinter is all in. And the other fellows have been ordered
to do the same as Frank. Just wait! The one that shouts last, shouts
loudest. We’re holding our wind for the end!”

As time would hang heavy while the runners were away, and in order to
amuse the great crowd, the management had arranged to have several
spirited contests for additional prizes. But although these were full
of go and spirit, and evoked considerable enthusiasm when decided, it
was plain that the throng thought only of the runners coursing over the
country roads, and who in good time would begin to show up.

The course was in the form of a great loop, though both the start and
the wind-up of the race followed a single track for half a mile. And
when the returning runners struck this neck of the bottle on the return
trip, the discharge of a small cannon would announce that the home
stretch had been entered, when everyone was supposed to exert himself
to the limit of endurance.

But as our interest lies almost entirely with the runners, it is only
right that we should follow them in their long race.

Frank and Lanky had managed to keep pretty well together during the
first few miles. Their position was something like midway; for while
there were several of the contestants ahead of them, others were in the
rear.

Bones had been unable to restrain his eagerness, and chased after the
two leaders--Parker for Clifford, and Coddling for Bellport. Just back
of the other two Columbia entries ran Wentworth, that sturdy Clifford
fellow, who had always worked so hard on diamond and gridiron for
the honor of his school. Then, not far back of him came Mallory and
Keating, two new Bellport “wonders,” who failed in the pinch to get
even a showing. Far in the rear trailed Atkins, the third Clifford
contestant, who seemed either gone “stale” from overtraining, or else
was having trouble with his shoes, for he had stopped twice to do
something.

That was the way the runners were spread out when the three-mile mark
was passed. Now and then Frank could catch a glimpse of those who were
ahead. He wanted to make sure Parker did not gain such a tremendous
lead that he could not be overhauled later on.

Lanky was fretting some, as usual. He seemed like a mettlesome horse
chafing because of the restraining bit.

“Frank, say the word, and let’s pick up a bit!” he complained.

“Just a little, then,” was the reply the other made.

The fewer words that passed between them the better, for breath was
valuable. And it was more to quiet Lanky than because he believed there
was as yet any need of shortening the distance between the leaders and
themselves, that Frank gave in so readily.

Two of the racers seemed to be running neck and neck. They bore the
Clifford and Columbia colors, which would indicate that Bones must have
made a grand spurt, and overtaken the leader. Perhaps he would not rest
content with that, but try to pass Larry Parker before the five-mile
mark had been reached.

Already the pace had become so grinding that several at the tail-end
of the procession had dropped out. Atkins had given up, and Keating
was seen wobbling when a stretch of straight road allowed Frank to
look back. The other fellows were still booming steadily along, grimly
hoping that if they kept within striking distance, fortune might favor
them by some accident to the leaders, when they might jump in and win.

All at once, as Frank, side by side with tall Lanky, broke around a
bend of the road, they discovered a lone figure seated by the wayside,
and evidently nursing a sprained ankle.

Frank saw with more or less dismay that the figure wore the well-known
Columbia colors. He knew to a certainty then that it must be their
chum, Bones Shadduck, who had met with an accident.

And it was perhaps not strange that just then Frank should remember
what he had said to Lanky as a warning, with regard to Larry Parker,
in case he ever found himself in a position to pass the new Clifford
wonder.

“It’s Bones!” Frank snapped out between his teeth; for it is no easy
thing for a fellow who has been running speedily over four miles to
talk while continuing to rush on.

“Oh! poor old Bones, he’s in the soup!” grunted Lanky; and it could be
seen that he was genuinely sorry to know the third Columbia contestant
had been thrown out of the race by an accident.

“Looks like he’d sprained his ankle!” remarked Frank, as they bore down
on the spot where Bones sat, hugging his left leg with both hands.

He looked up as they approached. The expression of intense pain on his
face gave way momentarily to one of concern. It was the school spirit
conquering mere physical distress.

He made quick motions with his hand, at the same time shouting ere they
had gained a point abreast of where he lay:

“Go on! Don’t you dare stop a second for me! I’m all right! Sprained my
ankle in the queerest way ever, just when I was passing Parker. Stone
must have rolled out from under his foot, and right in my way! It made
me stumble, and down I came ker-flop! Go on! Beat ’em both out! You
can do it! Columbia forever! Oh!”

The last was an exclamation of acute pain. Evidently the patriotic
Bones, in endeavoring to wave his hand above his head as he cheered,
had given his sprained ankle a new wrench, causing him to nearly shriek
aloud.

Frank was almost tempted to stop then and there; but he knew that a
sprain, while painful enough, was not dangerous. And one of the fellows
far in the rear, who had no chance whatever to win the race, would
undoubtedly give poor old Bones a helping hand to some nearby house
where he could get a rig to carry him home.

At the same time, upon hearing those significant words uttered by the
injured Columbia student, he and Lanky exchanged looks.

It seemed almost impossible that even a tricky fellow, such as Larry
Parker appeared to be, could manipulate things so that he might throw a
competitor out of the race in this remarkable way. And yet if it were
really an accident, then Frank would be forced to believe that Parker
must have been born under a lucky star indeed.

“S’pose he did the trick, Frank?” asked Lanky, showing that he too was
wrestling over the possibility of such a thing.

“Not unless he’d practiced it a hundred times,” replied Frank. “But it
shows you what might happen when you’re trying to get ahead of Parker.
Look out for him, and give him a wide berth, Lanky, when you pass him!”

“Huh! how about you?” grunted the other.

“Same here, if I get the chance,” was all Frank said in reply.

Then they lapsed into utter silence again. Talking might be all very
well when out for a spin, just to get exercise; but it is the height of
folly when pushing along at full speed in a race, with over five miles
still to be run.

They had picked up some on the leaders. Parker and Coddling were not so
very far ahead now. Most of the time they could see the two boys, and
were thus able to gauge the distance separating them. Lanky showed an
inclination to cut down the gap still more, and Frank had to humor him
a little; for he saw that his chum was able to make a burst of speed
that would overcome anything possible from that pair in the van, when
the right time arrived.

Now and then people along the road cheered them; but none of these
shouts gave the young Columbia athletes one-half the inspiration that
the agonized cry of the injured Bones did, when he urged them to
leave him there, and hurry on to win the grand race, for the honor of
Columbia.

Now the five-mile mark had been turned, and they were once more
circling, with the intention of heading for home.

It was time, Lanky undoubtedly thought, that something were done to
oust those two persistent runners from their hold of first and second
place. And as for Frank, he knew that the impetuous one could not be
much longer held in leash.




CHAPTER XXII

COLUMBIA’S LAST CHANCE


On the run out they had been heading almost due west, with the sun
shining directly in their eyes. Now that the turn had been made, they
had it easier; for they were no longer half blinded by that glare.

The railroad was not so very far off but that a train passing at one
place, the passengers leaned out of the windows waving hankerchiefs,
and shouting words of cheer. For everybody loves a boy athlete,
and seems to be drawn to utter strangers, when coming upon them
unexpectedly.

Frank had already made up his mind on several matters. One was that
he did not feel his best somehow, on this important day; and that if
it all depended on him, there was a strong possibility that either
Clifford or Bellport would land the prize, and carry off that gold
watch.

This might have worried him considerably at another time, but it did
not now; for he had been keeping a watchful eye on his running mate,
and realized that Lanky was in fit shape for the greatest effort of
his life.

Barring accidents, Frank really believed the long-legged fellow could
overtake the leaders inside of a quarter of a mile, no matter how
desperately they strove to maintain their present advantage.

He was content that it should be so. And in times to come he would
never envy Lanky that splendid timepiece, which was to be the reward of
his pluck and running ability.

Still, he deemed it wise to hold back as much as he could, and not
allow this impetuous comrade his head. Letting the two who led the run
set the pace, was the wisest thing that could be done. They were apt to
vie with each other in little spurts that were calculated to exhaust
their vim; while those behind could continue to push steadily along
in a grinding, irresistible way, always keeping a certain amount of
reserve speed on tap for an emergency.

It was about this time that the runners entered upon the gloomiest
part of the entire course. Frank remembered the stretch of dense woods
full well. He had even hunted for gray squirrels here, more than a few
times; though as a rule the boys of Columbia seldom came this way, when
the river offered them such a field for most of their sports, summer
and winter.

The trees were of unusual size, and grew so thickly that there was
always an aspect of gloom hanging over the district. It had rather a
bad name, too, on account of a peddler having met with his death here
years back; and though the authorities had done their duty as well as
possible, the tramp who undoubtedly was responsible for the forest
tragedy had never been apprehended.

Still, there did not seem to be any chance for even a schemer such as
Frank believed Larry Parker to be to play any trick upon his opponents.
He could not slacken his own pace; and it was altogether unlikely that
he would influence any Clifford comrade to lie in wait, so as to trip
the runners, or in some other way bring them to a stop.

Besides, just then Parker was in the lead, and could not know what a
surprise was in store for him when Lanky Wallace broke loose. He seemed
to have only the wily Bellport runner, Coddling, to fear. And that
fellow was too smart, Frank believed, to give his rival any chance to
come in contact with him.

Four miles more to run!

How slowly time seemed to pass! Why, it was as though an age had
elapsed since the pistol cracked that sent the contestants flying like
the wind on their way.

“Can’t we go a _little_ faster, Frank?” Lanky asked, as they struck the
big woods; and the look he turned on his chum was more expressive than
even his words.

Frank shook his head in the negative. Knowing the impulsive nature of
the tall Columbia student, Roderick Seymour in the beginning had given
Lanky to understand that he must govern his actions by those of Frank
Allen. If the other gave him the word to let himself out at any time,
then he could start on his own responsibility. For it was understood
before the race started, that the contestants of each school could
assist one another by advice, or in any other legitimate way, while
endeavoring to land the prize.

A minute later Lanky suddenly cried out; and it gave Frank a shock,
for he instantly conceived the thought that his running mate must have
wrenched an ankle, and that would put him out of the running.

“What is it?” he gasped.

“Look ahead, at the side of the road!” answered the other, between his
set teeth.

Frank did so, and immediately echoed Lanky’s cry.

“Another fellow put out of the race, just like Bones was!” he
exclaimed, feeling that this time it certainly could not have been an
accident that had disabled the second rival of Larry Parker.

But the sharp eyes of Lanky had made an additional discovery. It was
not any too bright there under those great trees; but Lanky was noted
for his keen eyesight.

“It isn’t Coddling at all!” he called out, as he ran on.

“That’s a fact; because he’s dressed in regular clothes; but it’s a
boy, and he acts like he was suffering like anything!” Frank went on,
slackening his pace just a little as they drew nearer the recumbent
figure.

Just then the boy who had been lying there like one nearly dead, heard
the sound of their voices, likely enough; at any rate, he lifted his
head, and seeing them, made a desperate effort to scramble to his feet.

The first thing Frank saw was that one of his legs seemed utterly
helpless. Then he felt a thrill of horror, for he discovered that blood
was trickling down, as though the wound might be most severe.

“Wow! it’s Bill Klemm!” burst from Lanky, who had been staring at the
pained face of the boy.

The fellow immediately stretched out both hands toward the runners, and
called to them in a weak voice that quite wrung Frank’s heart.

“Fellers, get help fur me, quick! I’ve nigh bled to death. Fell out of
a high tree, and broke my leg, I ’spect. Oh! the bone come through, and
it keeps on bleedin’ to beat the band! Please don’t leave me like them
other fellers did. I’ll die, sure I will. Oh! it’s terrible, the pain!
Frank, Lanky, help me!”

The two long-distance runners stopped short. The lure of that golden
prize was for the moment utterly forgotten by both of them. Here was
a boy whom they had never liked, and who was known as the latest
scapegrace of the town. Even then he was hiding from justice, fearing
punishment because of that fire at the high-school building, which was
laid at his door.

But for all that he was one of their schoolmates. They had played with
him from time to time in the past. And there could be no doubt in the
world but that poor Bill Klemm was suffering dreadfully; there was no
make-believe about that expression of pain on his dirty face.

“We must help him, Frank!” said Lanky, firmly.

He wanted to win that race above all things. Glory and victory,
together with that fine prize, had been ever before his mind. Then
there was his promise to Dora that he would do his very level best to
bring the Columbia colors in ahead of all competitors.

But above all else Lanky had a heart. He could not pass by, as
evidently Parker and Coddling had done, without extending even a word
of sympathy to the stricken bad boy of Columbia.

Frank had to do some pretty tall thinking just then. He would not
desert Bill, but was there any necessity for both of them to give up
the run?

He could hardly believe that Coddling, at any rate, would have been
quite so cold-hearted. Perhaps he had not understood what it really
meant. He may even have suspected that some wily Columbia student,
hoping to delay the leaders, had gotten himself up in this fashion to
play the injured act. All sorts of expedients had been practiced in
former long runs, to break in upon the winning spell of the leaders;
and clever Coddling was alive to such tricks.

But with Frank and Lanky there could be no such excuse for wantonly
deserting the boy who begged for their help. They could see for
themselves that he was in a serious condition; and that unless someone
stood by him, to assist in stopping that flow of blood, Bill might even
die.

Frank knew that his work was cut out for him. He did not relinquish the
last hope of being in the run to the finish without a sigh; for there
was always some expectation that Columbia might have to look to him for
victory, should Lanky fail in the pinch.

But he sturdily put the clamps on when he felt this spirit trying to
choke the generous impulses of his heart.

  [Illustration: “GO ON, I TELL YOU, LANKY, YOU MUST WIN THIS RACE!”

  _Boys of Columbia High in Track Athletics._      _Page 205._]

Lanky must go on, and do his level best for Old Columbia; leaving to
him the less pleasant duty of caring for the injured Bill Klemm.

“I’ll look after him, Lanky; you keep right along, and beat them out!
Hear?” he exclaimed, turning on his chum.

Lanky shook his head in the negative.

“You go, and let me stay, Frank!” he said, crushing down the feeling
of rebellion because so miserable a specimen as Bill Klemm, of all
Columbia boys, should interfere with the successful carrying-out of
their part in the race.

“I’ll not stir from this spot until I’ve seen Bill taken in charge,”
was the way Frank spoke. “And it’s silly to think that both of us must
stay. There will be others along after a minute or two, and they can
help me. Go on, I tell you, Lanky. You _must_ win this race. Think of
Dora; and the proud colors of Columbia that will be trailed in the dust
if you fail them. My duty is here; yours to beat out those two runners
ahead. Now you’re off!”

Frank actually turned Lanky around, and gave him a shove. The tall boy
glared once over his shoulder, and gave his chum a last look, in which
affection mingled with the stern resolve that filled his soul.

Then he was away like the wind. Around the bend beyond he flashed as
might a departing sunbeam; and Frank Allen, as he turned once more
toward the injured boy, was saying gladly to himself:

“Lanky will do it! he’s keyed up to making a record run; and he’ll just
pass the other fellows like they were standing still!”




CHAPTER XXIII

THE END OF THE LONG RUN


“Where are Asa Barnes and Wat Kline?”

Frank asked the question as he was bending down over the wounded boy,
making a rude tourniquet, with which to stop the flow of blood, by
compressing the leg above the broken part.

He put this question from a double motive; being curious to know why
Bill’s cronies had not attempted to assist him in his trouble; and also
to keep the mind of the wounded boy off his pain as much as he could.

“The skunks deserted me at the last!” grumbled Bill, gasping with the
agony he was doubtless enduring.

“Do you mean they ran away, and left you like this?” demanded the
amateur surgeon, twisting the stick he had inserted in the handkerchief
that was already knotted around the leg.

“Naw, they never knowed anything about me bein’ hurt,” whimpered Bill,
and then he gave a little snort, going on: “Ouch! that hurts like all
get out, Frank! Let up on a feller a little, can’t you? I know I ain’t
always treated you white; but sure you wouldn’t take it out on me, now
I’m down!”

“You don’t understand, Bill,” Frank replied, giving even a firmer twist
to the handkerchief by means of the grip he maintained on the stick
which was passed through the upper part; “I’m trying to press down on
the artery, and stop the flow of blood. It may hurt some; but be a man
and bear it. I’m doing all I can to save your very life, Bill.”

The wretched Bill began to cry, and Frank hardly knew what he could do,
since he had his hands full with holding that knotted handkerchief,
and the stick with which he had turned it again and again, until the
knot pressed down exactly on the artery under the knee, and stopped the
blood from flowing.

Just then a runner came along. It was Wentworth, of course. And he gave
signs of meaning to stop to ask what it all meant.

Frank knew that possibly this runner might have a ghost of a show to
come in either first, or second. Those further back would be out of the
running by the time they arrived here; and he could depend on one of
them to assist him.

So he waved his hand to Wentworth, and called out:

“Go on! Don’t stop for a second, Wentworth! You’ve still got some show!
One of our Columbia boys here has been hurt. I’ll stop Mallory or
Keating when they come on, to help me get him out of this before he
bleeds to death. Get along with you now, Wentworth. Take the will for
the deed! Your school wants you to make a try for that prize!”

Thus urged, Wentworth did push right along, though be it said to his
honor that he gave evidences of reluctance in so leaving Frank. He must
have seen from the appearance of the wounded boy that it was a serious
matter.

“Oh! why did you let him go on?” complained Bill, who was getting a
trifle light-headed, the result of the pain and excitement combined.
“Looks like you just wanted me to die right here, Frank Allen.”

“There are two other fellows coming along soon, and they’ll stop to
help us,” Frank tried to console him by saying. “Yes, I can see one
right now, and he’ll sure be here in a minute, Bill. Just keep up your
pluck a little while more. It’s going to be all right; and you’ll pull
through, never fear.”

But poor Bill was almost in a state of collapse by the time Mallory
reached the spot. Frank did not know this boy, for he was a newcomer
in Bellport. But he had a good face; and sure enough, as soon as he
understood what the matter was, he evinced a perfect readiness to stand
by.

“My chance for making that prize has gone anyway, Allen,” he said,
with a sigh of keen disappointment. “I worked too hard the last week,
and you can see I’ve just gone stale. Can’t get any speed out of my
legs, no matter how I try. So I call quits right here, and stay with
you to help get this poor chap to a doctor.”

“Doctor, yes, that’s what I need, boys!” muttered Bill, weakly.

“Here comes Keating along,” Mallory continued presently; “and he’s
pretty well winded, too; so I reckon he’ll hold over, and give us a
hand. That’s better than coming in at the tail-end of the procession,
anyhow. People’ll say you might ’a’ had a _little_ chance, only that
duty held you on the road. Hi! Keating, we want you here!”

The runner was not averse to stopping, for his wind seemed about gone.
Indeed, he was even then possibly debating whether he wanted to keep
up the hopeless race, or head for Bellport on a walk, to strike the
trolley line further down the road.

“What’s all this mean?” he asked, in a gasp, as he came up.

“A fellow has been badly hurt, and we’ve got to get him to town,”
Mallory explained.

“If one of you could keep hold of this stick, and not let up on the
pressure a little bit, I’d try and find a farm somewhere near, where
I could borrow a horse and wagon, to carry him back to town,” Frank
remarked just then, knowing that it was their only chance.

“Sure, we’ll stick by you, Allen!” was the ready response of Keating,
who proved to be a pretty fine sort of a fellow. “Skip out, and get
back as soon as you can. I’d like to pike on to the grounds, and see
who won the race before all the crowd gets away. But we’ll wait, no
matter how long you take, Allen.”

“Oh! rats! what have we got to lose?” replied the other, laughingly.
“We’re long since out of the swim, anyhow. But I say, Allen, where’d
you learn how to put on a tourniquet so well? My dad’s the new doctor
in Bellport, and I wager he’d say he couldn’t have done it better
himself, in an emergency. If this fellow gets through alive, he’ll owe
a heap to you, believe me.”

But Frank did not wait to listen to any words of praise. He was on
the run even as Keating spoke in this strain. For he had remembered
that when hunting squirrels in these woods, he had come on a little
farm that was almost lost among the tall timber; and secured a most
refreshing drink of buttermilk from a pleasant woman who seemed to be
running the place.

It was to look for this that he now set out. And he was cudgeling his
brains as hard as he could while hastening away, trying to figure out
just how he could best reach this hidden farm. A mistake might lose
him much time; and if the life of the wounded boy was to be saved, they
must surely get him to the doctor as speedily as possible.

Fortunately Frank was a boy who noticed everything; and once he had
visited a place, he could find his way there again because of this
habit of observation. So now he called things to mind, and remembered
how he had passed that crooked tree that made him laugh because of its
queer shape, just after he came out of the lane that led direct to the
hidden farm.

And so he found what he sought, and turning in, sped lightly along,
rapidly nearing the farm. The only thing that worried him now was the
possibility of the occupants being away; for nearly everybody around
Columbia for twenty miles had in some way heard of the great athletic
contests, and doubtless made it a point to be present on this eventful
day.

If that happened to be the case, and he could find a spare horse, as
well as any sort of vehicle, Frank was resolved to appropriate them
without any compunction. When a human life depends on rapid action, it
is no time to stand on ceremony; and he felt sure he could depend on
that cheery little woman of the farm to applaud his action.

Sure enough, there was no one home at that hour. Chickens were in
evidence; a litter of pigs grunted near the barn; several sheep
were cropping the grass in a nearby pasture; just beyond a group of
gentle-eyed cows looked curiously at him as he came hastily up, and
called out.

But the house was closed, and the door locked!

Frank ran straight out to the barn and stables. Here he found an old
horse, and a wagon that would serve his purpose. Managing to hitch the
animal between the shafts after some fashion, Frank threw armfuls of
sweet smelling hay into the bed of the vehicle, upon which the wounded
boy could lie.

Then he was off, using the whip on the old animal in a fashion that
doubtless astonished Dobbin not a little. But the beast kicked up his
heels, and went on a gallop down the lane until the road was reached.

So, before a great while had elapsed, Frank was back again with the
boys who were bending over poor Bill, dressed only in their running
togs as they were. With as much tenderness as possible they lifted the
wounded lad, and deposited him in the wagon. He cried out with the
agony several times, though they tried to be very careful.

Frank drove the old horse, while the other two sat alongside Bill, and
endeavored to cheer him up; though the boy began to close his eyes, and
seemed as though he might be faint with what he had gone through.

While the road was good Frank hurried the animal as much as he dared.
And since they must pass the athletic grounds on their way to Columbia,
he would not have been human had he not listened, with his heart
seemingly in his mouth, to catch the tenor of the exultant shouts that
were being raised by the departing hosts of spectators.

They were streaming in various directions, in knots and crowds, and the
greatest enthusiasm seemed to abound; as though the finish of the long
run might have been very dramatic.

Borne on the late afternoon breeze came the familiar chorus of voices
that the efficient cheer captain, Herman Hooker, led with such powerful
effect.

The sound thrilled Frank Allen as nothing else could have done. He
found himself involuntarily joining in with that never-to-be-forgotten
rallying cry that had so often aroused himself and his mates to
undreamed-of endeavors on the field of strife:

“Ho! ho! ho! hi! hi! hi! _veni! vidi! vici!_ We came, we saw, we
conquered! Columbia! ’Rah!”

That told the story! The departing hosts seemed to be all Columbia
people, judging from the shouts that arose. Then Lanky--good, reliable
old Lanky--had passed both Parker and Coddling in the race, and landed
the colors of his school across the tape, winner of the long run!

And Frank felt content that it was so.




CHAPTER XXIV

WHEN THE MESSAGE CAME


“Oh! Frank!”

There was Lanky, dressed in his everyday clothes, and looking very
unlike the proud victor of a long, grueling run. But Frank could
understand that his chum was tremendously excited.

The three boys had just seen poor Bill taken into his own home, with
his mother crying over him, and the father hastening to ’phone for
a doctor to come without delay; for they, like all other parents,
instantly forgave the erring son when they saw him so terribly injured.

Frank had accepted the offer of Mallory that he and Keating take the
horse to a livery stable, and they had just driven off, to communicate
with the owner later, when Lanky hailed in the manner stated above.

“What’s up, Lanky?” asked Frank; “They tell me you came in ahead, all
right, and that Columbia will blaze with bonfires to-night because of
your great work.”

“That’s all right!” exclaimed Lanky, breathlessly; “tell you all about
it later. Get into your everyday togs as fast as you can, and come with
me.”

“Why, what’s the matter now?” demanded Frank; though perhaps he began
to have a dim suspicion as to the cause of his chum’s new excitement.

“Had a message over the wire,” Lanky went on, tersely, as though breath
was more valuable now than when on his long run; “little Effie had on
just such a bonnet when she disappeared. Mr. Elverson and his wife were
away, and just got my wire. They’re coming along right now, and’ll get
here to-morrow, Frank.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” asked Frank.

“Get the little girl before those gyps hike out,” came the reply.

“Just us two go into that camp, where there are something like five
husky men, with faces I don’t altogether like?” questioned Frank.

“Shucks! no. Don’t you understand, I’ve fixed it up with Chief Hogg,
and he’s to go along, with two of his men. And more’n that, Frank, I’ve
been and got an order of arrest on the charge of kidnapping for that
old gypsy queen. Didn’t tell you about that before, did I; eh? Well, I
thought I’d spring a surprise, if the thing worked out right. Hit her
up now, and get dressed. I’ll go along and hurry things.”

Frank was almost as excited now as Lanky had been from the start. The
great race had been won by Columbia; and as if that were not enough
glory for one day, here they were about to prove that they could play
the part of detectives as well as win juvenile Marathons.

Frank had to be urged to hasten no longer. He ran like a greyhound for
home, and to don an extra suit of clothes, his ordinary wearing apparel
being down at the dressing-rooms of the athletic grounds, where he
could get it on the next day.

The way Frank got into those clothes would have opened the eyes of
some boys, who, having no bump of order, can never find anything that
belongs to them. And as soon as he had finished, he found that Lanky
had already made a break for the outer air.

“We’ve got to get a wagon at the livery!” was what the leader called
back over his shoulder; and about three minutes later a couple of
panting boys were demanding that a vehicle capable of holding half
dozen at least be hitched up.

After that came the job of getting the co-operation of the police.
Luckily Chief Hogg had arrived home from his duties of repressing the
smaller boys at the athletic grounds. And not being averse to figuring
in a matter that was apt to get his name printed in the big daily
papers of the metropolis, he at once hustled a couple of his men around
to the big wagon.

Frank saw that they were, as he expressed it, “loaded for bear”;
since every man swung a club; and moreover made it a point to have a
suspicious bulge under the tails of his coat, showing that he carried a
big revolver in a hip pocket.

The Chief himself drove the horses attached to the wagon. Doubtless
people, seeing them pass, might wonder what was going on; but then
that day had been so filled with thrills that they could not bother
themselves any great length of time in useless speculation.

“Now tell me something about how you came in,” demanded Frank, after
they were well started on the little run to Budd’s Corners.

“Oh; on the jump, sure!” replied Lanky, with one of his usual laughs.

“But go on and tell me about it,” Frank persisted. “You must have
overhauled the two runners ahead of you before a couple of miles had
been laid away. How was it when you went ahead? Did anything happen?
Was there anything said, or attempted, about that time, Lanky?”

“I passed Coddling first of all,” the other remarked. “I think he
made some sort of sarcastic remark; but then that was only what you’d
expect.”

“And Parker?” persisted Frank.

“He looked back just then,” Lanky remarked. “P’raps he heard Coddling
call out; but all I know is he turned his head and saw me. And Frank,
he looked like he was too mad for anything. I knew he wouldn’t let me
pass him if he could help it. And I just remembered all you’d said
about what I must do.”

“Yes, go on, Lanky,” urged Frank; while even the police officers
listened with apparent interest as the boy told his story of how the
long run was made.

“I kept getting closer and closer to Parker,” Lanky continued. “He was
doing all he knew how just then to hold his own; but, Frank, I was
feeling that frisky I reckon I c’d ’a’ drawn circles around that dub if
I tried.”

“But you didn’t go to all that trouble, Lanky?” remarked Frank,
laughing at the way the other put it.

“When I was just back of him I kept my eyes open for any of his little
tricks,” the tall boy explained. “You see, I didn’t want to get hit by
any stone that might just take a notion to fly up from his feet, and
get in my way, like poor old Bones. And I was watchin’ for a chance to
flip past Parker when he didn’t expect it.”

“Which I take it you did after a little?” Frank suggested, to hurry
Lanky on; for they were even then drawing near the camp of the Romany
tribe.

“Yes, I saw him make a movement of some sort; and thinkin’ he was
goin’ to drop something in front of me, I just skipped across to the
other side of the road in great shape, and then lit out for all I
was worth. Heard him tryin’ to say somethin’ or other, but he was
too late; because, you see, I was ahead. And after that I could give
Larry the grand laugh. I just romped in, with him fifty yards behind,
and Coddling picking up on him fast; because, you see, the wonder was
played out. That’s all. I tried to duck when the boys made a grab
for me; but they insisted on carryin’ me around the field on their
shoulders, while they roared our school song. And there’s the camp,
Frank!”

“I’m going to look at your watch later on, Lanky; but it sure gives me
great pleasure to see you wearing it,” Frank remarked.

“It might have been yours, if you hadn’t made me go on, and leave you
with Bill,” grumbled the unselfish tall chum.

“Oh! no, that’s where you’re away off, Lanky,” came the reply. “I knew
that you were the only one who could head that Parker with the lead he
had. But now let’s hope the same sort of success falls to us here as
came in that long run.”

The gypsy camp looked rather quiet. Frank was glad to see no men in
evidence, and could give a pretty good guess that they were all off,
occupied with driving hard and fast bargains in horse trading with the
many farmers in town for that day.

This pleased Frank, because if the gypsy men were absent it diminished
the chances of a riot all the more, should Chief Hogg carry off the old
queen. He expected to do this on the strength of the warrant Lanky had
sworn out, charging her with abducting a child belonging to Mr. and
Mrs. Elverson of a neighboring State.

When the wagon had arrived close to the camp those aboard jumped down,
much to the surprise and consternation of several dark-faced women and
children, who had run out to see the police wagon pass by.

“Which is her wagon, Lanky?” demanded the Chief, hurriedly.

“That biggest one, with all the gold paint, and pictures on the panels,
over yonder,” replied the boy, pointing.

“This way, men, and surround that van! Be sure you let not a single
person escape from it!” called the Chief, holding his long night-stick
out in a threatening manner, as he led the charge through the camp;
where kettles were kicked to one side, piles of bright-hued cushions
leaped over, and a few dogs frightened off by the hostile demeanor of
the men in blue uniforms.

In this manner, therefore, did the valorous Chief Hogg, and his several
equally brave men, manage to reach the big van, which they speedily
surrounded. The boys only hoped that no warning of their coming might
have been conveyed to the queen; and that she would be caught inside,
together with the child whom they had from the beginning been trying to
rescue from bondage and tyranny.

In making this movement the head of the local force had been careful
to take up a position himself that gave him command of the door in the
rear of the traveling wagon. He looked about him as if to make sure
that everything was arranged, and his men in their proper positions.
Then he turned to Lanky.

“The warrant, if you please, Lanky!” he said in his heavy voice.

Lanky only too willingly surrendered the precious document which
called upon the officers to bring the persons of the gypsy queen, and
the small child which would be found in her care, before the nearest
magistrate, and charging her with having kidnapped the little girl, for
some purpose unknown to the court.

Then the pompous Chief knocked upon the closed door of the van. It was
immediately opened, and the astonished face of the old queen became
visible. She looked at the men in their uniforms and then at the two
boys. Evidently the sight of Lanky excited her anger, just as a red
flag will that of a bull. She shook her fist at him, and burst out in a
flow of furious words:

“You are to blame for this! I knew you were not coming here to our
camp, and prowling around, without some reason. Now, what does all this
mean, and what has the queen of the gypsies done that she should be
disturbed in her home by the officers of the house-dweller’s law? By
what right are you here? Speak up, you fat man with the silver badge on
your breast, and tell me of what crime Queen Esther is accused!”




CHAPTER XXV

THE STOLEN CHILD


With her eyes sparkling with rage the old queen looked very ferocious.
But Chief Hogg did not quail. It would be a pretty thing to tell if he
had shown the white feather in the face of a woman, no matter if she
was a swarthy gypsy queen.

“I have here,” he went on to say, pompously, never noticing the slur in
her language when she addressed him; “a legally sworn warrant, charging
you with having in your wagon a small child--yes, a girl at that--which
it is claimed you have abducted, kidnapped, carried away from its
proper parents or guardians. And by virtue of my office, and this
document, I am directed by the justice to bring both woman and child
before him at once. So produce the child, and prepare to accompany us
back to town.”

He made a motion, and his men closed in. The old queen looked as though
she might defy the authorities of Columbia; but a glance around showed
that not a single one of her men was within call. So she knew she must
give up.

“I have a child, I confess,” she said, scornfully, addressing Frank
rather than the big policeman; “and it does not belong to my tribe, but
I expected to adopt it after a while, if no one claimed it. A woman
came to us several months ago, when, we were camped far away from here.
She seemed to be out of her mind, and we took her in. The little girl
was with her. She died soon afterwards, and the child was left with us.
All this can be proved. What have I to fear?”

Turning, she spoke to someone behind her, when the girl the boys had
seen before, and whom the queen had called her granddaughter, Mena,
shoved forward. She, too, looked scornfully at the big policeman, and
undoubtedly the defiant nature of the old queen had descended to the
child.

She was leading a small girl, whose hair seemed to be black enough, and
her skin as dusky as that of the genuine gypsy, but whose eyes were a
bonny blue.

She looked eagerly at the boys, and seeing Lanky, held out her hands
toward him.

“What is your name, little girl?” Lanky asked, ready to give a shout,
so filled with excitement did he seem.

“Effie!” was the quick reply, in a childish voice, as the little one
shrank from the old queen, who must have been very cruel to her, Frank
thought.

“That settles it!” yelled Lanky, as he turned on Frank, the light of a
second great victory in one day filling his dancing eyes.

The Chief would take no delay. He realized that should the gypsy men
return and find him arresting their queen, trouble of some sort was apt
to ensue. And while Chief Hogg could look very imposing in his fine
uniform, and possibly frighten boys, and hungry hoboes, everyone knew
he did not particularly like a rough-and-tumble fight.

And so they all climbed up into the wagon, when the return journey to
town was begun. Fortunately they happened to meet none of the gypsies
on the way. And the old queen seemed to be sure that she could prove
her statement, so that she would be held guiltless. If anyone was
guilty of abduction it must have been the half-crazed woman who came
with the child. And she had long since passed to a land where human
laws could never reach her.

It turned out just as the gypsy queen had said. She had been wise
enough long before to write an account of the happening, and have it
published in some little country paper, that, having no circulation
outside of the village where it was printed, was never seen by those
who searched far and wide for traces of the long-lost daughter of the
rich Elversons.

And when she produced a copy of this it was seen that she could not
be held on any charge, unless that of cruelty toward the child. But
she had been smart enough never to whip the little girl in a manner
that would leave any traces; and so, there being no witnesses, and a
mere child’s word not holding against that of the whole tribe, she was
finally allowed to go.

The tribe disappeared that same hour, nor did they ever again come back
to the vicinity of Columbia.

On the day after the rescue of little Effie, her parents arrived. Frank
and Lanky met them at the train. When they saw a beautiful, though
sad-looking, lady, accompanied by a tall gentleman, get off the train,
and look hungrily around, they waited no longer, but rushed up to them.

“I’m the Lanky Wallace that sent the message, Mr. Elverson!” cried the
boy; and his happy face caused the lady to cry:

“Oh! tell me, have you found her, my poor little lamb?”

For answer Lanky just turned and gave a whistle he had arranged with
Effie, who had been left in the station. And as the child came running
toward them, the lady started in amazement; for as yet nobody had been
able to remove the stain that had been used to color her hair and her
whole body, so that even her mother did not recognize her.

But when her childish voice piped up the one word “mommy,” and the lady
had a single look into those laughing blue eyes, she doubted no longer,
but squeezed the little waif to her heart, laughing and crying at the
same time.

Of course they made a great ado over the two boys, and Frank in vain
tried to prove that it had been all Lanky’s doings. His chum declared
that they were partners through it all; and that he would never have
been able to do the least thing toward learning the truth if it had not
been for the advice and backing of Frank.

Later on they had to go over the whole story, telling everything that
had the slightest connection with the gypsies and little Effie.

And before they went away with their recovered darling, Mr. Elverson
and his wife made the two boys accept a most generous reward as a
slight token of their esteem.

“It is only what would have been paid to a stranger who recovered our
child for us,” the former declared, “and which has long been standing
as an inducement for the detectives of the country to exert themselves;
but outside of that, my dear boys, we can never forget what you have
done. Our home shall be open to you always, as though you were kith
and kin to us. And Effie will expect to see you there as often as you
can make it convenient.”

Of course the boys enjoyed all this. The story had leaked out, and was
told in every home in Columbia. Chief Hogg seemed to have an added
strut to his walk; and it puzzled everyone to decide whether this came
from seeing his name mentioned in the big New York dailies, as helping
to recover the long-lost child of the millionaire, Adolph Elverson; or
on account of the bulge in his pocket where he kept his wallet, after
Mr. Elverson had visited him at headquarters.

Columbia High soon settled down to the duties of the season, and that
year Prof. Tyson Parke admitted that the averages had never been so
high. He secretly gave it as his opinion that the encouragement which
clean athletics met with in his school, backed by the far-seeing
trustees, was the cause for this increased interest shown by the pupils
in their studies.

Lanky was very proud of his gold watch. He had to show it about twenty
times a day for weeks after the long run, and the victory won, had
gained him such a prize. And then his father, fearing that it was
making him vain, bought him a dollar nickel timepiece, which he said
was good enough for the rough-and-tumble school life of a boy. The
prize was put away; only to be worn on Sundays, and special occasions;
for it would do him when he grew up.

During the vacation that now loomed up before them, some of the
boys who have figured extensively in these stories were to decide
whether they would go to college, or, as Frank had suggested, take a
post-graduate course under Prof. Parke; since their parents considered
them rather young to break away from all home ties, and face the many
temptations that beset the college student, especially in his freshman
year.

Bill Klemm recovered, though he was laid up for two months. And there
were many who echoed what the good doctor told Bill and his parents,
that only for the first aid to the injured tactics of Frank Allen, the
boy would hardly have pulled through. It doubtless would serve as a
lesson to Bill, and everybody hoped for the sake of his parents that he
would reform his ways.

If, as seems likely, Frank and a number of his chums who reached the
graduation class on the last June school exhibition decide to stay in
Columbia High another year, we shall hope and expect to meet them again
amid scenes of boyish sports, where the honor of the school is the
magnet that leads the contestants on to do their level best.


THE END.




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:


  Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

  Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

  Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.





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