Barbour Ralph Henry
Captain of the Crew

A circle of interested Hilltonians had already formed, and were grinning their appreciation. Billings appeared somewhat astounded for an instant. Then he thrust his jaw out aggressively, and asked angrily:

“Say, what’s the matter with you, kid? Do you think you can teach me anything about skating?”

“Well, of course, I’m a month or two younger than you, you know” – here the crowd snickered impolitely – “but I rather fancy that I can beat you by a few yards in a half-mile race. Would you care to try?”

For a moment Billings looked doubtful. Possibly he thought that he had unwittingly encountered the school’s crack skater, and feared for the result. If he did the idea was dispelled by Trevor’s next remark.

“They don’t call me much of a skater here, you know; we have several fellows who can beat me without trouble, but they’re all rather busy just at present, and so, if you don’t mind putting up with something ordinary, I’ll be glad to show you what I can about skating.” The gentle patronage of Trevor’s tones was beautiful, and the audience hugged itself gleefully. Billings laughed loudly and scornfully.

“You will, eh? Say, you’re awfully nice, aren’t you? Mama know you’re out?” Trevor reddened but kept his temper.

“I fancy I could beat you by about twenty yards in a half mile,” he said musingly.

That was the last straw, and Billings elbowed his way toward the boat-house landing.

“Get your skates on, sonny, and I’ll show you what you don’t know about skating.”

“Where can I get a pair?” asked Trevor, addressing the fellows about him.

“Get Grove’s; what size shoe do you wear?” asked Carl. “Five? They ought to fit; wait here and I’ll get them.” And he hurried off.

“Do you think you can beat him, ’Ighness?” asked one of the crowd.

“I fancy so; anyhow, I’ll do my best.” Carl returned with Groves skating-boots, to which were screwed a superb pair of hockey skates. Trevor tried them on, and found that they fitted perfectly. News of the proposed race had spread, and those who had started toward their rooms had returned, while the two hockey teams, having taken off their skates and donned their heavy clothing, also joined the throng. Billings swept up majestically, and Trevor, who had been trying his skates in short circles, joined him.

“Suppose you skate around Long Isle and back,” suggested Grove; “that’s about a half mile. We’ll draw a mark here for the finish. I say, French, you might act as judge at the finish. Dick, you start them, will you?”

“Standing start?” asked Dick.

Trevor looked inquiringly at Billings. “Doesn’t matter to me,” growled that youth.

“All right. On your marks,” said Dick. “You’re to skate to the right, around Long Isle, and return here, crossing this line in this way from below. Is that satisfactory?”

Trevor nodded and felt for a hold with his rear blade, and Billings uttered another growl.

“On your marks! – Set! —Go!”

Away they sped, Billings slightly in the lead, having learned the science of quick starting from his hockey experience. They crossed the river diagonally, heading for the down-stream end of the island, Billings bending low, hands clasped behind his back, in the approved style of American racers; Trevor more erect, arms swinging by his sides, and apparently putting forth much less effort than his competitor.

“Carl, can Nesbitt skate?” asked Dick somewhat anxiously. Carl shook his head.

“Don’t ask me. I never met him until the other day. But he can skate; we can see that; the question is how well?”

“I hope he’ll win, if only to shut that bragging mucker up. Hello, look there!”

Carl looked and uttered a groan of dismay. Long Isle, lying almost abreast of the boat landing and about two thirds way across the river, is in reality composed of not one, but two islands, the second, scarcely twenty yards long, being separated from the main expanse at its lower end by a scant two yards of ice-covered channel. This fact had been overlooked, and now the watchers saw, at first with surprise and then with annoyance, that the skaters had parted company. Billings had headed for the channel, while Trevor, holding to a close interpretation of the agreement, was making for the end of the smaller island. The next moment Billings was out of sight; another instant and Trevor too had disappeared.

“If Nesbitt can overcome that handicap he’s a good one,” muttered Dick.

“That’s so,” Carl assented. “It means a good fifty yards lost, I guess.” Some of the boys had hurried across the ice to the island, and from a point of vantage near its northern end were to be seen waving their arms wildly. But the throng at the finish could gather no hint from their gestures as to the progress of the racers.

“Evidently a misunderstanding there,” said French, the St. Eustace captain, approaching Grove. “Which is Long Isle?”

“Both of ’em,” grunted Grove.

“Well, but – ”

“Oh, it’s all right, I guess; Billings wasn’t supposed to know; it was my fault; I forgot about that plaguy little bunch of land beyond there. The fellow that crosses first wins,” he added decisively. “What do you say, Hope?”

“That’s right; Billings couldn’t know that he was supposed to go around both islands.”

“Very well,” answered French, “but I’m sorry there was any misunderstanding. Your man may think that he might have won if it hadn’t been for the mistake.”

“He may win anyhow,” said Dick dryly. “The race isn’t over yet.” French looked to see if Dick was joking, but finding no signs of levity, smiled politely and deprecatingly, and moved off. The next moment the boys on the island left their places and came scrambling back across the ice, and then a skater came into view around the up-river end of the island and headed for the finish.

“It’s Billings,” said Dick in disappointed tones. But ere the words were out of his mouth a second form sped into sight, and a cheer went up from the watchers. Trevor was apparently but a half dozen yards behind, and, although as the racers were coming directly toward the group it was impossible to be certain on that point, seemed to be gaining at every stride.

Carl slapped Dick boisterously on the shoulder and then hugged him ecstatically. “Can ’Is ’Ighness skate, Dick? Can he skate?”

“Can he!” howled Dick. “Look, he’s even with him; he’s – by Jupiter, Carl, he’s ahead of him!”

He was; and not only ahead now, but leading by a good three yards. Every voice was raised in shouts of encouragement, and cries of “Hurry up, Billings!” “Come on, Nesbitt!” “You can beat him! Brace up!” “Bully for Hillton!” broke into the frosty air as the two racers, bearing down swiftly, almost silently, on the finish line, sped nearer and nearer.

Twenty yards away Trevor threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder at his straining rival, and then, suddenly bending lower over the leaden-hued surface, fairly left the other standing and shot through the lane in the crowd and over the line a winner by ten long yards!

And how Hillton howled!

“Even old ‘Turkey’ couldn’t beat that!” exulted Carl.

Trevor swung about near shore and skated leisurely back to where Billings, red-faced and panting, was explaining to French and the rest of the St. Eustace team how it happened. But his friends looked utterly bored at his narrative, and turned away one by one toward the landing steps. Trevor came to a stop a yard in front of the tall, freckle-faced youth, who paused in his explanation and regarded him angrily. The crowd hushed its chatter in delighted anticipation. Trevor thrust his hands under his sweater and regarded Billings with a wealth of genial condescension.

“Any time you’d like to learn more about skating,” he remarked sweetly, “come up. I’m always at leisure Saturday afternoons.”

Then he nodded amiably and skated away ere the outraged Billings could summon his scattered wits to the rescue of his equally scattered dignity.

CHAPTER X
BUYING AN ICE-YACHT

“An ice-yacht,” observed Carl learnedly, “is the nearest approach at the present age to a flying-machine.”

“And I never cared a bit about flying,” answered Dick, without enthusiasm.

The two, with Trevor and Stewart Earle, were gathered close about the fireplace in Number 16 Masters. Two good hickory logs were crackling merrily, and, although owing to the fact that the steam-heating apparatus was evidently on a strike and their backs were constantly caressed by shivers, their knees and faces were radiantly warm; and that was sufficient comfort. A huge paper bag was perched on the table, and the quartet were busily munching big, rosy apples, while close to the ashes four more were sizzling and sputtering in the heat. They had started out with the intention of having a feast of roasted apples, but had found that the roasting process was too slow to meet the demands of their appetites, and so were keeping down the pangs of starvation in the interims by consuming the fruit as Nature had meant they should.

“An ice-yacht,” continued Carl, undismayed, “can be put together very easily and cheaply. All you have to have is four pieces of timber and – ”

“Look here, Carl,” interrupted Dick impolitely, “the last thing you made was a toboggan, and it cost about nine dollars before you were through with it, and you could have bought a good one for five.” Stewart giggled and Carl grinned good-naturedly.

“Well, let’s buy one, then,” he replied. “Let’s go down to Euston Point and see the one this fellow advertises.”

“How much do they cost?” asked Trevor.

“Oh, we could get a second-hand one for fifteen dollars, easy; maybe less. That would be only four dollars apiece, if we all went in. And we could have the biggest kind of fun! Why, some ice-yachts go as fast as ninety miles an hour!”

“Oh, get out!”

“They do; don’t they, Stew?”

“Easy,” answered Stewart gravely. “I’ve seen lots of them do it. I owned one myself once that could go a hundred and thirty-seven miles in – ”

“Shut up, you idiot!” growled Carl. “What do you say, fellows; shall we see if we can get the boat? Think how jolly grouchy the other chaps would be to see us skipping around and – ”

“And breaking our necks,” suggested Trevor.

“Nothing of the sort! Why, it’s not dangerous at all; any one that knows anything about sailing a yacht can manage an ice-boat.”

“Well, who knows anything about sailing among this crowd? Do you, Trevor?”

Trevor shook his head.

“Not a thing.”

“I do, of course,” interrupted Carl.

“Well,” said Stewart, “as far as I’m concerned I think I’d rather have some one else than you do it, Carl.”

“Oh, quit fooling; I’m in earnest. Suppose we go to Euston Point next Saturday and see what’s doing?”

“But, look here,” said Dick, “how do you know Faculty will let us sail the thing if we get it?”

“Why shouldn’t they? They allow skating; ice-yachting’s just skating – with a difference. Besides, as long as there’s no rule against it we have a right to do it.”

This argument was incontrovertible, and it was agreed that the four should journey to the near-by village of Euston Point the following Saturday morning. And then Stewart suddenly discovered that the apples on the hearth had been done for some time, and in the business that followed the subject of ice-yachting was forgotten.

When Dick and Trevor returned from supper that evening they found a fresh, inky-smelling number of The Hilltonian awaiting them in the letter-box. Dick hurried to the room with it and spread it out under the light on the table. Yes, Singer had been as good as his word; the leading editorial was headed The Rowing Situation, and was quite in Singer’s best style.

“My!” ejaculated Trevor, who had been reading the article over Dick’s shoulder, “that’s spiffin!”

“It sounds rather well, doesn’t it?” asked Dick, highly gratified by the effusion. “And you’d think it would bring some of the fellows round, eh?”

“Bound to; you’ll find slathers of them in the gym to-morrow afternoon,” replied Trevor confidently. “Read it out loud, Hope.”

And Dick did so and Trevor listened admiringly and interpolated an applauding “Hear, hear!” at intervals, and Dick went to bed very hopeful of the morrow.

But when at three o’clock the following afternoon he repaired to the rowing-room his heart sank. Aside from the original nineteen candidates, but the veriest handful were present. Dick counted them grimly; there were fourteen of them, and for the most part they not only looked but really were sadly out of their element. A small junior of perhaps fourteen tried to hide himself in a corner, but Dick routed him out mercilessly and asked him cruelly if he was a candidate for coxswain.

“Yes – no – that is, I don’t know,” was the breathless reply. Dick turned away and encountered the mocking gaze of Taylor, who, when Dick’s eyes were turned upon him, smoothed his features into an expression of respectful concern and walked forward.

“What an outfit, eh?” he asked softly. But Dick was resolved that the other should not have the satisfaction of knowing his disappointment. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled carelessly.

“Well, they don’t look brilliant; a bit light on an average; but I dare say we’ll be able to find some good material in the lot.” At that moment Professor Beck entered. After a slow and careful glance up and down the long room he looked fleetingly at Dick, frowned, and turned away. But he made no remarks upon the showing of candidates save once.

“Mr. Kirk will coach the crews again this year,” he announced, “and will be with you every Saturday afternoon until the river opens, when, as last year, he will come up to Hillton and stay with you until the race. I expect he will make his first visit a week from next Saturday, and I’m sure” – he glanced blandly over the audience – “I’m sure he will be greatly pleased with the material he will find.”

Something approaching a shudder passed over the throng, and Dick turned aside to hide a grim smile. Then the first batch of candidates trooped off to the locker room to don gymnasium attire, and the new recruits were registered, instructed to report for examination the following afternoon, and dismissed looking heartily relieved. When the last one had gone Professor Beck heaved a sigh and turned to Dick.

“Hope, are you certain there was no mistake made? You’re sure you didn’t issue a call for candidates for a tiddledy-winks team?” Dick smiled dismally.

“No, there’s no such luck. We’ve got thirty-four fellows, of which a possible two dozen are rowing material.”

“Hum; I think we shall be able to turn out an excellent second eight, but as for a varsity crew – do you happen to have an idea as to where we are going to get that, Hope?”

“No, sir, I haven’t,” replied Dick miserably. Professor Beck polished his glasses thoughtfully for a minute and studied the wintry landscape through the high window. Then he smiled, settled the shining lenses again on his nose, and turned toward the door.

“We’ll have to use our wits, Hope. Above all, don’t allow yourself to become discouraged. We still have a couple of weeks before us, and – well, I guess we can accomplish something in that time. Are you ready?”

Together they passed out onto the floor and in a few minutes the first squad of crew candidates had begun their training. Of the twenty, two had rowed in the varsity boat of the preceding year, four had rowed with the second eight, three had trained as substitutes, and the balance, eleven candidates, represented new and inexperienced material as far as shell-rowing was concerned. Well-nigh all were what Trevor would have termed “wetbobs,” and had paddled about in tubs or perhaps rowed now and then in a pair-oar. Professor Beck and Dick were busy for the half hour that constituted the first day’s exercising. Generally speaking, each candidate required a different work from his neighbors. In Brown the forearm muscles were undeveloped; in Smith the chest muscles had been neglected; in Jones the back was as unbending as a two-inch plank, while Robinson, perchance, was in a state of general flabbiness. The professor viewed attentively the work of each boy, altered the exercise here, stopped it there, increased it elsewhere, while Dick stood beside him, listening to his instructions and memorizing, as pointed out to him, the needs of the different ones. After awhile the fellows were sent to the track for the briefest of trots, and so, having stood for an instant under a shower-bath, dressed, and went their ways full-fledged crew candidates, with an inalienable right to look down condescendingly upon their schoolmates, to cut Friday night lectures, and comport themselves generally in the manner of coming heroes.

And Dick, with Trevor at his side, went back to his room for an hour of study before supper, not overjoyful, but yet somewhat comforted by the professor’s hopefulness and by the fact that real work had at last commenced.

On Friday night Professor Beck announced to Dick that the fourteen newer candidates had been examined, and in five instances found wanting. “Of those that remain,” said the professor, “two look like good men; as for the rest – ” He shrugged his shoulders eloquently. “But we can tell better in a week or two. Meanwhile, we must keep up the recruiting. I have my eye on an upper middle boy, and I think I’ll have him hooked in a day or two. If we can secure say another half dozen good men I think we can pull out all right.”

The next morning – it being a bright and sunny Saturday toward the last of January – Dick, Trevor, Carl, and Stewart boarded the train and traveled to Euston Point, but a few miles distant, where they called on the man whose advertisement Carl had read in a local paper, and by him were conducted to a loft by the river, where a dilapidated-looking triangle of timbers and bolts – which its owner declared loudly was the fastest cat-rigged yacht on the Hudson – was shown to them. The bargain was soon closed, Carl conducting the negotiations and talking learnedly of runner planks, center timbers, and stays. The boat was to be supplied with a new rudder-post, a new sail and rigging, the runners were to be reground, and the whole was to be delivered at the boat landing at Hillton Academy four days from that date for the munificent sum of seventeen dollars and seventy-five cents. Carl was elated.

“We’ve saved two dollars and a quarter,” he declared.

“I don’t see how,” objected Dick. “You told us last week that we could get the thing for fifteen dollars.”

“I know I did; that’s what I thought. But you heard him ask twenty at first, didn’t you? Well, and I jewed him down to seventeen seventy-five. Isn’t that two and a quarter saved?”

Dick had to acknowledge that it was, and Carl insisted on celebrating his successful financiering by treating to very nasty hot soda at the town’s only drug store. And so to Carl’s business acumen may be traced the series of events that led shortly to Trevor’s disgrace.

Their way to the station took them past the open door of a livery stable. When they were abreast of it something round and white shot out, rolled over and over down the little incline, and brought up at Trevor’s feet. It proved to be a young puppy, which, when it stopped rolling, found its four unsteady feet, barked joyously, and tried to gnaw the buttons from Trevor’s trouser cuffs. But he was instantly seized upon and elevated in Trevor’s arms for the inspection of the others.

“Isn’t he a little beauty?” cried Trevor.

“Yes; what is he, a fox terrier?” asked Stewart, allowing the squirming and delighted puppy to chew his gloved fingers to its heart’s content.

“Fox terrier!” replied Trevor scathingly. “Of course not; it’s a bull. Look at that nose!”

“I am looking at it,” answered Dick. “Nice and ugly, isn’t it? What makes it so pink?”

“That’s the way it ought to be,” answered Trevor with fine disdain for his friend’s ignorance. “I wonder who it belongs to?”

“Belongs right here, sir!” The boys glanced around and found a colored stableman observing them smilingly from the doorway. Trevor placed the puppy upon the ground, where it at once relapsed into a state of loud and poignant grief, leaping with snowy feet against his stockings, and crying vehemently to be again taken up. Trevor patted it, whereupon its grief gave place to uncontrollable delight; it stood on its hind legs, buried its short nose in a small snow-bank, and attempted to take the boy’s entire hand into its pink mouth, and all within the instant.

“It’s the liveliest pup I ever saw,” said Carl.

“That’s a fine dog, sir,” said the owner. “His mother took a first and two second prizes at the dog show last week, and his father’s got lots of ’em. Yes, siree, he’s a mighty fine dog, he is.”

“Come on,” said Dick, “we’ll lose the train if we’re not careful.”

But Trevor paid no heed. He was looking intently at the puppy, which, with the boy’s left thumb between his teeth, was radiantly happy.

“He’s got a pedigree as long as yer arm,” continued the stableman.

“Has he?” muttered Trevor.

“He can be registered ter-morrer, he can; he’s blue-blooded right through, he is.”

“Is he?” said Trevor. The puppy was now on its back, legs limply aloft, and Trevor was thoughtfully rubbing a pink-and-white stomach.

“Was you wanting to buy a dog, sir?”

“N-no, I think not,” answered Trevor.

“Say, come on, Nesbitt, or we’ll be late,” cried Carl.

The stableman glanced over his shoulder. “Lots of time, gentlemen; train ain’t due for twelve minutes yet.” Then, addressing Trevor, “I had four of them and sold ’em all ’cept this one; an’ he’s the best of the lot; an’ cheap, too – dirt cheap.”

“How much?” asked Trevor with elaborate carelessness.

“You can have him for five dollars.”

“Phew!” said Stewart.

“Give you fifty cents,” said Carl. The stableman turned indignantly.

“I reckon you don’t know much about what bulldogs is worth,” he said. “This gentleman here knows that that ain’t too much for a puppy as fine as that one; don’t you, sir?”

“I dare say he’s worth that much,” answered Trevor, “but I couldn’t pay it.”

“What would you do with it if you had it?” asked Dick.

“Now, look here; I’ll tell you what I’ll do, sir,” said the stableman. “You can have him for three dollars and a half. And that’s mighty cheap, that is.”

Trevor looked longingly at the puppy, who was now for the moment quiescent, and who was gazing up into Trevor’s face as though breathlessly awaiting his verdict.

“I – I’ll give you a dollar to-day and pay you the rest next Saturday,” he said finally.

“You one of the Hillton young gentlemen?” asked the stableman.

“Yes.”

“Well, you can take him along. What’s your name?”

Trevor gave it amid the expostulations of his friends, who asked wonderingly where he expected to keep his new possession, how long he thought Faculty would let him have it, and how he was going to get it home. To all of which Trevor made no reply. Paying the man the first instalment of the money, he seized upon the delighted puppy and strode off, fearful lest the former owner should regret the bargain and change his mind.

“Well, of all things!” ejaculated Dick. “Where in thunder will you keep him?”

“Don’t you worry,” answered Trevor. “I’ll find a place.”

“What’s troubling me,” complained Carl, “is how you’re going to pay your four dollars and forty-four cents toward the yacht and the three dollars and a half for the pup.”

Trevor looked blank.

“I’d forgotten about the yacht,” he muttered.

“Forgotten about it!” cried Carl. “Why, man alive, we just bought it ten minutes ago!”

“I know. But – I tell you – I’ll write to the pater; I fancy he’ll send me money enough for the puppy; he always gives me any money I may need for useful things.”

The others exploded into violent laughter.

“Call that useful?” gurgled Dick, holding his sides and pointing derisively at the puppy, which lay limp but blissful with half-closed eyes in Trevor’s arms. A warning whistle made unnecessary any reply, and the four boys hurried toward the station.

“You’d better hide him under your coat, or else they’ll make you ride in the baggage car with him,” cautioned Dick. And so Trevor boarded the train with a suspicious portliness, happily unobserved of the conductor, and, when they had yielded their tickets, drew the uncomplaining puppy from under his sweater.

“I’ll say one thing for it,” remarked Carl grudgingly, “it behaves mighty well, considering that it has just been torn from home and parents.” He held out a hand and the puppy went into spasms of delight over the evidence of friendship and licked the fingers deliriously. “Funny little beggar! How old is it, Trevor?”

“About ten weeks, I fancy.”

“What are you going to call him?” asked Stewart.

Trevor shook his head thoughtfully.

“I don’t know yet. I shall wait until I find something appropriate.”

“Talking about names,” said Carl, “let’s find one for the boat. That fellow said she was the Lucy G., but that’s silly and doesn’t mean anything.”

“Ought to be something wintry,” suggested Stewart.

“Something like Blizzard, or Snowflake, or Ice King,” added Dick.

“It can’t be any of those,” objected Carl, “because there are heaps of Blizzards and the other things you said. How would The Polar Bear do?”

Every one sniffed derisively.

“Well,” said Trevor, “if it must be something wintry, what’s the matter with The Ulster or The Cough Drop?”

“Or The Chilblain?” laughed Dick.

“I think a good name would be The Sleet,” Stewart struck in. “That’s wintry enough.”

A vote was taken, and The Sleet carried.

“We can have a sail next Saturday,” suggested Carl.

“So soon?” groaned Dick. “Carl, we’re so young to die!”

“That’s all right, my funny friend, but just you wait until I get to sailing that thing; you’ll see!”

And Carl’s prediction, though vague, proved in a measure correct.