Bobby Blake on the School Nine; Or, The Champions of the Monatook Lake League

by Frank A. Warner

  CHAPTER XIV

  GLOWING HOPES

  The boys all laughed at Fred's declaration, though they hoped ardentlythat it would turn out to be true.

  "Well," conceded Frank, "confidence is a good thing, especially if thereis good hard work back of it. One thing is certain, and that is if anyteam beats Rockledge it will know it's been in a fight."

  "I suppose Larry Cronk will be pitching for Belden," mused Fred.

  "I suppose so, and he's a corking good pitcher too. But Bobby beat himthe last time he faced him and I guess he can do it again."

  "Trust Bobby," replied Fred loyally.

  "Well, I'll have to go now," concluded Frank. "I'm glad you boys thinkthe league is going to be a good thing."

  "The best thing that ever happened," declared Sparrow.

  "I'm tickled to death with it," agreed Fred.

  "Hits me awful hard," said Bobby.

  "Monatook Lake League sounds mighty good to me," added Skeets.

  "There's a lot of work to be done yet in getting it fairly started,"observed Frank. "We'll have to work out a schedule of dates and decideon the kind of pennant we're going to have and a bunch of things likethat. But we'll have plenty of time for that, and everything will berunning slick as grease by the time the season begins. And remember whatI said, Fred, about cutting out all hard feelings," he concluded.

  "I'll do it all right," answered Fred. "I don't like the fellow and Inever will, but I'll forget all about that when it comes to working forthe good of the team."

  "That's the way I like to hear you talk," returned Frank with a smile,as he went away.

  "What did Frank mean by that?" asked Skeets curiously.

  "Oh, it's about that Tom Hicksley," Fred replied. "Frank has heard thathe's a good ball player, and if he is, he wants him on the nine. Heheard Bobby and me talking of the scrap we had with him this morning,and he doesn't want trouble in the team."

  "Maybe Frank's right, at that," conceded Skeets. "But I don't know thatit's good dope to have a fellow like that on the nine, no matter howgood a player he is. He'll be wanting to run things and perhaps break upthe whole team."

  "We'll hope not," said Bobby. "At any rate, there's no use worryingabout it yet. He may not be so good a player as Frank has heard he is,and may not play on the team at all."

  "We'll have to look over our baseball togs and see if they're in goodshape," said Fred. "I know the spikes on my shoes need sharpening."

  "And I'll have to pound that new baseball glove of mine until it's goodand soft and has a big hollow in the middle," added Bobby. "We mustn'toverlook the least thing that's going to help us to win."

  "Won't the Clinton boys open their eyes if we can tell them when we gohome for the summer vacation that we're the champions of the MonatookLake League?" gloated Fred.

  "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched," laughed Sparrow."It's a long time yet before the end of the season."

  "It's all over but the shouting, the way I look at it," persisted Freddefiantly.

  "Don't wake him up, he is dreaming," mocked Skeets.

  "The pennant bee is buzzing in his bonnet," laughed Sparrow.

  For that matter, they all heard the buzzing of the same bee, and it wasa very pleasant sound to them. To these four eleven-year-old boys thewords "league" and "pennant" conveyed a sense of dignity and importancethat they had never felt before.

  From that time on, baseball took up a large part of their thoughts, eventhough the ground was covered with snow and the lake held fast in icyfetters.

  The gymnasium was warm and comfortable, and though they had no regularcage and the limited space did not give much chance for batting practicethe boys got in quite a lot of pitching and catching. And this wasquickened by the news that came to them that Belden had taken up theidea of the league with as much enthusiasm as they had, and were alreadypredicting that they would be the victors in the coming struggle. It wassaid that two of the new Belden boys were hard hitters and could "sendthe ball a mile."

  "But we heard something like that before the last game, and we lickedthem just the same," remarked Fred, who expected to play short stop, thesame position he had held the previous season.

  "Belden's bark is worse than its bite," confirmed Bobby. "But becausethey didn't come through the last time doesn't say they won't now. We'llhave to be right up on our toes all the time. It isn't going to be awalkover for anybody."

  The study hours at Rockledge were not excessive, and had been arrangedwith a view of giving the growing boys all the time they needed forwholesome exercise and recreation. Dr. Raymond knew that a well trainedmind and strong body must go together in order to get the best results.And on the occasions of the big baseball and football games he wasalways sure to be present as a keenly interested spectator.

  Mr. Carrier, too, the second assistant on the teaching staff, hadhimself been an athlete in his college days, and his advice and coachingon the diamond and the gridiron were very valuable to the Rockledgeboys.

  With the lake so near at hand, there were plenty of winter sports. Thesmooth level of the ice, stretching away for miles in every direction,made skating a delight and offered a splendid field for hockey games. Onall fine afternoons and every Saturday from morning till night, the icewas alive with darting figures, and rang with the music of steel againstthe frozen surface and the merry laughter of the skaters as they crackedthe whip or flew by in impromptu races.

  There was plenty of snow on the ground this year and this gave a chancefor some good coasting. Most of the boys had sleds, and Bobby hadbrought along the splendid one that he had received as a Christmaspresent.

  He had had considerable trouble in settling on a name. Billy Barry'ssuggestion that it be called "Lightning" and Betty Martin's laughingidea that it ought to be called "Oyster," because it "slipped down soeasily," had received due consideration, but Bobby had finally settledon "Red Arrow." This seemed to him to cover both its color and itsspeed. And that speed could not be questioned. It certainly shot downhill like an arrow from a how. None of the other sleds at the schoolcould do such fetching.

  Naturally Bobby took great pride in his sled, and the runners wererubbed with emery and oil until they were as smooth as silk and shonelike silver.

  There were several good hills in the vicinity of the school, but most ofthem were dangerous; one because it crossed the railroad at its base andothers because cross streets, along which there was much travel, offeredchances for collisions. These were therefore forbidden to the boys.

  On one hill, however, they were permitted to coast whenever they wantedto do so. This stretched away from the town, and there were no crossstreets throughout its entire length. It was absolutely safe, and as itwas very long and reasonably steep, the boys felt no special regret atnot being allowed to use the other hills.

  For several days before Lincoln's Birthday the weather had been mild andthere was a considerable thaw. The snow on the hill had become soft andmushy and coasting had been impossible.

  This interfered with the plans of the boys in Bobby's dormitory, who hadexpected to have a big coasting carnival on the night of the holiday,when there would be a full moon. Now it looked as if the ground might bebare.

  But on the eleventh of February there came a sudden change in theweather that gladdened the hearts of the would-be coasters. Thethermometer fell rapidly until it was ten degrees below zero. The hillfroze solid and was even better than it had been before, because thewater from the melting snow now formed a glare of ice over the wholesurface.

  Bobby and his chums were jubilant over the change as they got togetherin the gymnasium after breakfast on the morning of the holiday.

  "Isn't it just bully?" cried Fred, doing a handspring.

  "The hill will be like glass," gloated Mouser.

  "I'll bet we fetch further than we ever did before," exulted Bobby, whocould see himself scudding like the wind on his trusty Red Arrow.

 
"But, gee! won't it be tough climbing up to the top again," put in PeeWee, who liked well enough to ride down but hated the task of walkingback.

  "Don't worry, Pee Wee," chaffed Fred. "We wouldn't let a hard-workingfellow like you walk back. We'll take turns drawing you up on oursleds."

  "Sure we will," added Sparrow. "We'll just fight for the privilege."

  "I'd hate to have Pee Wee bark his shins again," laughed Bobby.

  The boys were so engrossed in the lively give and take that none of themnoticed that Tom Hicksley, who had been practicing on the rings and hadbeen near enough to hear their conversation, had quietly slipped out ofthe gymnasium.

  There had been no open trouble between him and Bobby and his friendssince that morning when the coming of Mr. Carrier had stopped thequarrel. None of the boys took any special pains to avoid him but hadsimply left him alone. Hicksley had cast sullen and angry glances atthem as they passed him on the campus or in the halls, but they carednothing for that. They did not doubt that he was nursing his grudge andwould lose no chance to get back at them if he could, but they felt ableto take care of themselves.

  As a matter of fact, Hicksley had only two friends in the school. Thesewere Bill Bronson and Jack Jinks, the two most detested boys atRockledge. They were of the same type as Hicksley, mean and tyrannical.They were two of the largest pupils and took advantage of their size tomake themselves thoroughly disliked by the other boys.

  They had "cottoned" to Hicksley at once, recognizing him as a kindredspirit, and the three were almost constantly together.

  Bronson and Jinks belonged to neither of the dormitories, but occupiedone of the smaller rooms together.

  To this room Hicksley went straight from the gymnasium and rapped on thedoor.