Stratemeyer Edward
The Putnam Hall Rivals

CHAPTER XIII
A CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

Captain Putnam looked at both cadets sharply.

“Both of you suspect somebody, is that it?” he said, slowly.

“We do,” said Pepper.

“But you are not certain?”

“We are not certain, and therefore it would not be right for us to mention any names,” said Jack.

“Now tell me the truth of your trouble with Mr. Crabtree,” pursued the captain, after a thoughtful pause.

Thereupon, the two boys told how they had been taken from the cold storeroom and placed in the cellar, and how they had escaped through the clothing closet above. At the recital the captain had to turn away his face, to conceal a smile that hovered around his mouth.

“We didn’t think it was fair at all,” went on Jack. “So when we got out we determined to hide until you got back and then come to you. And that is just what we have done.”

The captain was silent and nodded slowly to himself several times. Then he took a deep breath and rubbed his chin reflectively.

“Boys!” he exclaimed, decisively. “I am going to take you at your word. You can return to your studies and forget what has passed. Does that suit you?”

“It suits me!” exclaimed Jack, and his heart gave a bound.

“Suits me, too,” added Pepper. “I am much obliged, sir.”

“There is some mystery here, and some day perhaps we shall get at the bottom of it. I expect you to help me all you can to clear it up.”

“Captain Putnam, am I to – re – to – ” Jack could not go on.

“To what, Ruddy?”

“Mr. Crabtree said I was to – er – to give up being major of the battalion – ”

“You will take your place as formerly, Major Ruddy.”

“Oh, thank you!” And now the youthful major’s face fairly beamed.

“I will attend to this matter so far as it concerns Mr. Crabtree,” went on the master of the Hall. “You may go.”

“Thank you!” cried both cadets, and ran off with hearts as light as air.

“Hullo, glad to see you back!” whispered Andy, as they took their seats. “How did you get out of it?”

“I’ll tell you after school,” said Jack, and Pepper said the same.

Josiah Crabtree tried to question them, but they referred the assistant teacher to Captain Putnam. Later in the day the master of the Hall and Crabtree had a long session together, but what was said none of the students ever learned. But after that Josiah Crabtree was decidedly meek for a long while to come.

“I think he got a calling-down,” said Pepper, to Jack.

“Well, don’t you think he deserved it?” returned the young major.

After this affair Dan Baxter and his cronies were more bitter than ever against Pepper, Jack, and the others. Of course the plot to injure the boys had been gotten up by the bully, to pay them back for spoiling the proposed feast.

“Crabtree must have made a mess of it,” growled Dan Baxter.

“That’s it,” answered Reff Ritter. “Well, we’ll have to try something else.”

“Right you are,” answered the bully. “And next time we’ll make a sure thing of it.”

Several weeks passed along rather quietly. During that time the weather changed rapidly. The rain had washed away the snow and most of the ice, and now the grass began to grow green and the trees pushed forth their leaves and the bushes their buds.

“I am glad spring and summer are coming,” cried Andy. “I’ve had enough of winter.”

“Right you are,” said Pepper. “Hurrah for baseball!”

“And rowing,” put in Dale.

Nearly all of the boys loved to row, and at the earliest opportunity the boats at the new boathouse were repaired and gotten out. At first the lads were a bit stiff at the oars, but soon limbered up.

“This is something like,” said Andy, while he and some of the others were out in two of the boats.

“Let us have a little race,” suggested Jack, and off the two boats started, up the lake a distance of half a mile. They kept side by side, and presently the race was declared a tie, and then the rowers stopped to rest.

“I’ve got news,” said Dale. “Some of the students from Pornell Academy want to row us a race.”

“Didn’t they get enough last summer?” asked Andy.

“This is something of a new crowd,” went on Dale. “Do you remember Roy Bock, and Grimes, and Gussie?”

“Do we?” cried Pepper. “The chaps who stopped us in the woods one night and wanted us to promise that we would not visit the Fords again. I rather guess we do!”

“What a bully that Roy Bock was!” put in Jack. “Almost as bad as Baxter.”

“That’s so,” said Stuffer. “And that chap Grimes is about his equal. The Pornell students must be sick of that crowd.”

“Some of the Pornell students are nice enough,” was Dale’s comment.

“So they are!” said Emerald. “So they are! But not Bock – no, not Bock!”

“Well, what about this race, Dale?” questioned Jack.

“Roy Bock, Grimes, Gussie, and four others of their crowd want to race a crew of seven, composed of you, Pepper, Andy, Emerald, Stuffer, Henry Lee, and myself, and they want to race us for two miles.”

“When do they want to race?” asked Pepper, with interest.

“Next Saturday afternoon.”

“Humph; that’s rather short notice,” was Andy’s comment. “For all we know they may have been practicing on the rowing-machine in their gym.”

“Better put it off until the following Saturday,” said Jack.

“No, Bock says he can’t put it off, because they have got to row elsewhere.”

“Do they want to put up any prize?”

“Yes, a silver cup worth fourteen dollars, each fellow to chip in a dollar for the trophy.”

“Well, that is fair enough,” said Hogan. “But if they have been after practicin’ on their rowin’ machine – ”

“Never mind, let us row them anyway!” cried Pepper. “If we refuse they’ll think we are afraid.”

“I don’t think we’ll lose,” said Jack. “That is, not if we practice hard between now and racing time.”

“We can do that,” said Stuffer, with determination.

“We’ll put you on a diet, Stuffer,” said Pepper, with a wink at the others.

“All right – anything to win,” said the boy who loved good eating. “I am glad it is only four days off instead of three weeks!”

That night a letter was sent accepting the challenge from the Pornell Academy students, and on the following day the Putnam Hall cadets started to practice in earnest. Dale was made the coxswain, and he coached those under him to the best of his ability.

It soon became noised about that our friends were going to row a race against Roy Bock and his crowd, and at once nearly all of the cadets of the Hall became interested. As a consequence some other races were arranged, one between Baxter, Ritter, Coulter, and Paxton on one side and four boys from the rival school. The bully and his friends went around everywhere declaring that they would surely win.

“But Dale Blackmore and his crowd will lose, mark my words,” said Dan Baxter.

“I don’t think so,” answered Henry Lee, who chanced to hear the remark.

“Well, you will, I’ll bet on it.”

“Thank you, but I don’t bet,” said Henry, quietly.

“That’s because you are afraid,” sneered the bully, and walked off.

CHAPTER XIV
THE BOAT RACES

The day for the boat races dawned clear and bright. There was no breeze and the surface of Cayuga Lake was almost as smooth as a mill pond.

“What an ideal day for the contests!” cried Jack, as he and Andy walked down to the boathouse. “It couldn’t possibly be better.”

“If it doesn’t blow up a storm by afternoon,” answered the acrobatic cadet.

The boys went rowing for an hour in the morning, and Dale coached them as before. George Strong came down to watch them and gave them a few “points,” for he had rowed in the crew of his college years before.

“You have not had quite enough practice,” said the teacher. “But you do fairly well.”

When the time came for the races quite a crowd assembled along the lake shore, and many were out in rowboats and sailboats and also in gasoline launches.

“I wonder if Mr. Ford is out?” said Jack. He referred to a wealthy gentleman of that district who owned a beautiful yacht. The season before Jack, Pepper, and Andy had saved Mr. Ford’s two daughters, Laura and Flossie, from being drowned, and the gentleman had been their warm friend ever since.

“I think not,” said Stuffer. “Their mansion at the Point has been closed up for the winter, and they are not yet back.”

It was not long before Roy Bock and his crew appeared, in a brand-new rowboat which was certainly a beauty. It was painted black, with a gold stripe, and cut the water like a thing of life.

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

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

“Hurrah for Pornell Academy!”

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

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

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

“What did we tell you!”

“Now go in and win the next race!”

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

“Baxter’s crew is going to win!”

“Wait, the race isn’t finished yet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a tie!”

“No, the Pornell crew is ahead!”

“There they go over the line!”

“Pornell wins by a full length!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready?” was the question put.

There was a moment of silence.

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

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

“Looks like a tie!”

“No! the Pornell boat is crawling ahead!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Putnam Hall is crawling up!”

“They’ll win out yet!”

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

“Gosh! this is a pace!” panted Andy.

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

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

“It’s Pornell’s race!”

“Hurrah for Roy Bock and his crew!”

“This is a great day for Pornell Academy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XV
TARGET PRACTICE

“Hurrah! Putnam Hall wins the race!”

“That was a dandy, wasn’t it?”

“Our boys rowed for all they were worth!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In a twinkling Peleg Snuggers was lifted up.

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

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

“Up he goes!”

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

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

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

“I ain’t no circus actur, I ain’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know what to say!”

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

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

“Overflowing with joy,” suggested Jack.

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

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

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

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

“It’s going into the lake!”

“Can he swim?”

“I don’t think he can!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mad dog! Mad dog! Save me! Save me!”