Ned, Bob and Jerry at Boxwood Hall; Or, The Motor Boys as Freshmen

by Clarence Young

  CHAPTER XXIII

  SPRING PRACTICE

  “Well, what do you think of her?”

  Jerry asked the question of his two chums a little later as they stoodlooking at the odd craft.

  “She’s big enough,” commented Ned, gazing up at the tall mast.

  “Can she go?” asked Bob.

  “You ought to see her! She’s won more races than any boat of her classon this lake,” said the owner, a Mr. Brown, who was going to move awayand wanted to sell the craft.

  “May we give it a trial?” asked Jerry.

  “Certainly. I’ll take you out in it to-morrow and show you how to runit.”

  “I’ll be glad of that,” Jerry said. “I’ve handled one a few times, butI’m not an expert.”

  Satisfactory terms for the purchase of the _Petrel_ were made shouldshe prove satisfactory on trial, and the next day Ned, Bob and Jerrywent to Mr. Brown’s place. There was a good wind blowing, not enough,the owner of the _Petrel_ explained, to get any real speed out of her,but enough to show of what she was capable.

  “And if I’m going to learn I’d rather do it in a wind that isn’t agale,” Jerry remarked.

  The ice-boat had a sort of open cockpit, in which five or six mightsit, or sprawl over the side if necessary, when it was desired to keepthe weight well out on one runner, to prevent the boat from capsizing.

  “Say, this is great!” cried Bob, as they went skimming over the ice.

  “Do you like it?” asked Jerry.

  “I sure do!”

  “I’m in for it, too,” added Ned. “Show me how to steer and manage thesail.”

  Mr. Brown proved to be an adept instructor, and the boys soon caught onto the knack of handling the swift craft, though they needed practice.

  “Here comes the _Jack Frost_,” said Mr. Brown, nodding toward anotherice-boat down the lake. “We’ll have a little race with her. Mr. Carsonowns her, and he beat me the last time, though I think I can win now,for my boat is better in a light wind than his.”

  A friendly challenge was at once accepted by Mr. Carson, and the twograceful craft lined up for a race. They were on a part of the lakewhere there were no skaters and no other boats.

  Then came a pretty exhibition. Even at first with her rival, the_Petrel_ soon forged ahead, and then Mr. Brown let the boys take turnsat the tiller.

  They did well, too, and at the finish line the _Petrel_ was severallengths in advance.

  “Well, you had the edge on me this time!” called Mr. Carsongood-naturedly, as he came up in the wind. “But I’ll beat you next.”

  “We’ll take you up!” called Jerry. “It’s going to be our boat from nowon.”

  “Then you’ll take her?” asked Mr. Brown.

  “Sure!” Jerry answered, his chums echoing an assent.

  The arrangements were completed the following day, and the motor boysbecame possessed of a new craft. Though once, years before, they hadmade an ice-boat for use on the river at home, which was not much of asuccess, however.

  In the days that followed Ned, Bob and Jerry spent as much time as theycould on the ice, either in the boat or on skates. But the ease ofgliding along without any exertion, the swiftness of the motion and thesport of it caused them to use the _Petrel_ oftener than they did theirskates.

  And so the winter wore on.

  There had been a thaw, a rain and a freeze, and there were indicationsthat an early spring was on the way.

  “Which, being the case,” remarked Ned, as he and his chums sat inJerry’s room one day, “I think I will get out my baseball glove, andsee if it needs sewing.”

  “It’s too soon to do that,” remarked Jerry. “Come on down to the ice.Let’s take out the _Petrel_. We may not have another chance.”

  “I’m with you,” agreed Ned.

  “Same here,” echoed Bob.

  On the way to the lake the three chums met Frank, Bart and Bill.

  “Where are you going?” asked Bart, who, with Bill, was becoming moreand more friendly with our heroes.

  “Out in the ice-boat,” answered Jerry, and then, seeing an eager lookon Bart’s face, the tall lad added: “Come along. It may be the lastride of the winter.”

  “I’m with you!” Bart exclaimed. “Do you mean all of us?”

  Jerry did not hesitate a moment in answering:

  “Yes, sure!”

  “I’ll come,” said Bill.

  Frank, with a sneer on his face, turned aside.

  “You freshmen with your boats and things make me tired!” he complainedas he walked away.

  “Don’t be a chump,” advised Bart in a low voice.

  “You mind your own business!” snapped Frank.

  His two friends paused a moment, as though undecided, and then walkedalong with Jerry and the others.

  “He’s as pig-headed as they make ’em,” commented Bart. “I never saw hisbeat!”

  “Um!” grunted Ned, but what he thought he did not say.

  Up and down the lake sailed the _Petrel_, and as the sun was declining,Bob called to Jerry:

  “Head her down to Simpson’s and we’ll have something to eat.”

  “That listens good,” laughed Bart.

  “Oh, eating is my strong point!” Chunky confessed.

  The ice-boat was skimming down the lake, when there suddenly sounded aboom like the report of a cannon.

  “What was that?” called Ned.

  “The ice cracked,” Jerry answered. “It often does that after a thaw. Iguess----”

  “Look out!” yelled Bill. “There’s open water just ahead!”

  A big crack had opened in the ice, just in front of the ice-boat, andbefore Jerry could steer to one side the _Petrel_ plunged in.

  “Jump!” yelled Jerry, casting aside the mainsheet.

  As the boat splashed into the cold water the boys, leaping free ofher, went in also, but on either side.

  Jerry saw his two chums and Bill strike out as they hit the water, buthe also had a glimpse of Bart throwing up his hands with a gesture ofdespair, and in a flash it came to Jerry.

  “Bart can’t swim!”

  The lad had so confessed some time ago, admitting he had a terror ofbeing in the water, though not afraid to go out in a boat.

  Jerry launched himself through the ice-cold element and grasped Bart bythe collar. Holding him up with one hand, he swam toward the ice-boat,which had turned over on one side. It was floating and would supportthem all for a time.

  Ned, Bob and Bill had already reached the craft, but Bart wasstruggling frantically.

  “I--I can’t swim!” he gasped, spluttering the words as water got in hismouth.

  “Keep still!” cried Jerry. “I’ll save you!”

  This he did. By dint of hard work he managed to get Bart to theice-boat and put his arms over it.

  “Hold on!” panted Jerry. “Help’s coming.”

  Another ice-boat and several skaters who had seen the accident werehurrying to the rescue. Help was given promptly, fence rails and ropesfrom the other boat being secured to assist the boys out of the water.

  Then, dripping wet, and shivering with cold, they were hurried toSimpson’s, where hot blankets and hot drinks promptly administered wereused to prevent pneumonia.

  “You--you saved my life, Jerry,” said Bart, earnestly, when they weresitting before a warm fire, waiting for a conveyance to take them backto Boxwood Hall. “I--I won’t forget it.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” said Jerry, sincerely. “I’m glad I saw you intime, and I remembered you said you couldn’t swim. You’d better learnthis summer.”

  “I’m going to!” was the fervent response.

  No ill effects, save slight colds for Ned and Bart, followed theimmersion. The ice-boat was recovered and put away for the season, asthe ice broke up the next day and a long spring thaw set in.

  Ned, Bob and Jerry buckled down to hard work, or at least fancied theydid, and occasionally they played some trick or joke, but were notcaught again.


  Ned kept on the “typewriter trail,” as he called it, but with nosuccess, and he was not able to fasten any guilt on Frank. After theice-boat accident Bart and Bill were more than ever friendly with thethree chums, Bart especially, and when Frank remonstrated, Bart said:

  “What would you do to the fellow who saved your life, or the life ofsome one you cared for?”

  Frank could not answer, and turned aside. But he did not make friends.

  The winter, not necessarily of discontent, passed and spring came.There had been practice of a sort in the indoor baseball cage when oneday a notice was posted on the gymnasium bulletin board to this effect:

  _Candidates for the varsity nine will report on the field this afternoon for spring practice._

  “Hurrah! That’s the ticket!” cried Jerry.

  “That means us all right,” added Bob.

  “It’ll feel good to get a bat in your hands out in the open,” commentedNed.

  There were days of hard practice, and Ned, Bob and Jerry were assuredby several of their chums that they stood a good chance to make thefirst team.

  “How about it, Frank?” asked Jerry one day, after sharp work, in whichthe team on which our heroes played won from the tentative varsity,mainly by the skillful playing of the three motor chums. Jerry resolvedto take the bull by the horns. “How about it? Have we a chance on thevarsity?”

  “Not in a hundred years while I’m captain!” was the cutting reply.