“You seem very anxious to fight,” he said in a low, steady voice. “You can, therefore, take that for a starter!” And hauling off with his right fist, he struck Dan Baxter fairly and squarely upon the nose, causing the blood to spurt and sending the bully to the floor like a shot.
If ever there was an individual taken by surprise it was the bully of Putnam Hall. He had not anticipated such a sudden and determined resistance, and for several seconds he lay still, too dazed to move. In the meantime his friends sprang forward, but Dick waved them off.
“My fight is with Baxter,” he said. “I want you to keep your hands out of it.”
“You hit him when he wasn’t prepared,” blustered Mumps.
“And he hit me when I was not prepared. Stand back!”
And Dick made such a show of being ready to attack Mumps that the toady fell back in great alarm.
In the meanwhile Dan Baxter arose, and tried to stop the flow of blood with his handkerchief. “I’ll get even with you, Rover!” he growled behind the stained cloth.
“At any time you please, Baxter,” returned Dick. “But don’t you take me off my guard again, or I’ll have no mercy on you.”
“Do you dare to meet me in a fair, standing up fight?” demanded the bully.
“I certainly do.”
“All right, then. Next Saturday afternoon at three.”
Dick bowed. “Where?” he questioned.
“In the patch of woods behind the cornfield.”
“All right.”
“Mums is the word, fellows,” said Baxter to his cronies. “You will keep this to yourself, Rover, won’t you?”
“How many do you expect to bring to the fight?”
“Only the four fellows who are here.”
“Very well; I will bring a like number.”
“Want to tell everybody, don’t you?”
“No, but I think I am entitled to fair play; and that means that I must have as many friends there as you have.”
“All right,” grumbled Baxter, but he evidently did not like the arrangement. A moment later he hurried off, to do what he could to prevent his nose from swelling.
Dick told only his brothers and his chums of what had occurred, but the news leaked out that a fight was on, and Saturday afternoon found at least twenty cadets in the secret and on their way to witness the “mill,” as those who had read something about prize-fighting were wont to call the contest.
Now, lest my readers obtain a false impression of my views on this subject, let me state plainly that I do not believe in fights, between boys or otherwise. They are brutal, far from manly, and add nothing to the strength of one’s character. It is well enough to know how to defend one’s self when occasion requires, but such occasions occur but rarely.
But I have set out to relate the adventures of the Rover boys, in school and out, and on land and sea, and I feel I must be truthful and tell everything just as it happened, not only in this volume, but in all those which are to follow; and, consequently, I shall tell of the fight as the particulars were related to me by Sam Rover, Fred Garrison and others—details which I am certain are correct.
The spot was a sheltered one, and on the edge of the woods two spies were posted, to warn the contestants should Josiah Crabtree or any of the other teachers appear, for fighting was against the rules of Putnam Hall, and neither Dick nor Baxter wanted to be caught.
Both came to the spot promptly, and, without preliminary talking, took off their coats, collars, ties, and caps. A ring was formed, and Dick stepped forward and faced Baxter.
The bully was several inches taller than his opponent and at least fifteen pounds heavier. His nose was a bit swollen, and there was a sneer upon his coarse face.
“Rover, if you wish to apologize to me you can do so, and save yourself a thrashing,” he remarked.
“I can take care of myself, Baxter. Perhaps you would like me to make a similar proposition to you. If so, let me say it is too late; I came here to give you a well-deserved thrashing, and I mean to stick to my determination.”
“Phew, but we talk big!” muttered Mumps.
“You keep your oar out, Mumps,” put in Tom. “If you don’t I’ll give you a hiding, just as soon as Dick is done with Dan.”
“Will you? Maybe you’ll be the one to catch it,” muttered Mumps. Nevertheless, he said no more.
“Are you ready?” asked the boy who acted as timekeeper.
“I am,” said Dick.
“So am I,” returned Baxter, and hurled himself at his opponent without a second’s delay.
He had expected to catch Dick napping, but he found himself mistaken. A blow aimed at Dick’s face was well parried, and in return Dick hit Baxter heavily on the shoulder.
“Hurrah! Score one for Dick!” cried Larry Colby. “That’s right, old man, keep at him.”
“Keep cool, Dan!” put in Mumps. “You can polish him off at your leisure.”
The blow on the shoulder staggered Baxter, and he fell back, to become more cautious; and then the two boys began to circle around and around, each looking for a favorable “opening.” At last Baxter thought he saw what he wanted, and struck out again, and Dick was hit on the cheek.
“That’s the way, Baxter!” came the cry.
“That was a teaser! Give him another!”
Again Baxter launched out, and now Dick was hit on the arm. He slipped to one side, and struck out like lightning, and the bully caught it in the neck, something which, spun him around like a top.
“Another for Dick!” cried Frank Harrington. “Keep it up!”
Again the two boys faced each other. But only for an instant. With a savage cry Baxter sprang upon Dick as if to fairly tear him apart. One blow landed upon Dick’s arm and a second on his chest.
“It’s Baxter’s fight! Baxter is still king of this school!”
“You might as well give it up, Rover; he’s too many for you!”
So the cries ran on, while the bully, encouraged by his success, renewed his efforts; and an additional blow sent Dick to the ground in a heap.
CHAPTER XII
FAIR AND FOUL FIGHTING
As Dick went down, Tom and Sam uttered cries of chagrin and horror. The eldest Rover had been struck on the chin, and the blood was flowing from a deep scratch.
“Get up! Get up, Dick!” cried Tom. “Don’t say you are beaten!”
“Yes, yes; get up and go at him!” added Sam.
The urging was unnecessary, as Dick was already scrambling up. Dan Baxter made a dash at him, intending to strike him while he was down, but a fierce look from Tom stopped him.
“You’ll fight fair, Baxter,” were Tom’s words.
“Yes, he’ll fight fair,” repeated Dick, throwing back his head as if to collect himself. “Fellow-students, Dan Baxter is not fit to be a pupil at this academy.”
“Why not?” came in a chorus.
“He is not fighting me fairly.”
“What do you mean?” blustered Mumps.
“Don’t find fault because he knocked you down,” added another of the bully’s cronies.
“I say he is not fighting fair,” repeated Dick stoutly. “He has something in each hand.”
At this unexpected announcement Dan Baxter started back and changed color. Then of a sudden he placed both hands into his trouser pockets.
“He is putting the things out of sight!” cried Tom, who saw through the bully’s intentions.
“Come, Baxter, show us what you had.”
“I didn’t have anything,” growled the bully. “If you say I had I’ll punch your head off. This is only a ruse to, let Dick gain time to get his wind.”
“That’s it!” cried Mumps. “Go at him, Dan, and finish him!”
“Baxter daren’t turn out his pockets,” said Sam, “Do it if you dare.”
“Turn the pockets, out!” demanded Dick.
“Yes, turn ‘em out!” added Fred, and a dozen others took up the cry.
“I won’t do it,” growled Baxter, but it was plain to see that he was growing uneasy. “I’m a gentleman, and I can whip Rover with ease, and do it fairly, too!”
While he was speaking Larry Colby had come up behind him. Ere Baxter could stop the movement, Larry pushed his hand into one of the bully’s pockets and turned it out. A jagged stone as big as a walnut dropped to the ground.
“There, see that!” cried Larry. “For shame, Baxter!”
“I didn’t have the stone—you placed it there!” blustered the so-styled king of the school.
“Didn’t you though?” said Fred Garrison, who had also come up behind Baxter, and he quickly hauled another stone from the other pocket.
“That is how he scratched me,” said Dick. “I was sure he had something in his hand.”
“It’s a put-up job!” howled Baxter, growing red in the face. “If you want to continue the fight, come on!” and he squared off again.
“That’s the talk!” said Mumps. “Let both show their hands! Perhaps Rover has some stones, too!”
Both opened their palms, then doubled up their fists. Baxter was the first to strike out. But, as quick as lightning, Dick dodged the blow and landed vigorously upon the bully’s chest. Before Baxter could recover, Dick struck out again, and the bully caught it straight in the left eye.
“Oh!” he yelled in pain, and put his hand up to the injured optic, which began to grow black rapidly. Then he struck out wildly half a dozen times. He was growing excited, while Dick was as calm as ever. Watching his opportunity, Dick struck out with all his force, and Baxter received a crack on the nose which caused him to fall back into the arms of Mumps. As that nose had been struck heavily in the gymnasium, it was decidedly tender, and Baxter roared with pain.
“Have you had enough?” demanded Dick, coming up to him.
Yes—Baxter had had more than enough; but he did not wish to acknowledge it. He made a sign to Mumps previously agreed upon, and Mumps raised his cap as a signal to one of the spies set on guard.
“Stop the fight!” cried the guard instantly. “Somebody is coming!”
“Nonsense—nobody is coming!” said the other spy, but Baxter would not listen to him.
“I’m not going to be caught—I’ll finish this some other time,” he said to Dick, and hurried away with Mumps and his other friends, leaving Dick the victor beyond question.
“I knew you could do it!” cried Tom, as he fairly hugged his elder brother.
“I’ll wager he won’t bother you again.”
“No, indeed!” put in Sam; and Fred and the others said the same. That was the first and last time that Dan Baxter fought any of the boys openly, but he was their bitter enemy in secret; we shall learn in this and other volumes.
As soon as Baxter had retreated, Dick and his brothers hurried to a near-by brook, where the elder Rover took a wash, and tried by other means to remove the traces of the contest from his person. He had a slight swelling on the scratched chin, but that was all, and inside of an hour felt quite like himself once more.
With Baxter it was very different, and the Sunday following he asked to be excused from attending church services in the Hall, saying he had fallen on some rocks and hurt his face. On hearing this, Captain Putnam came to see him.
“Sorry to hear this, Baxter,” he said. “Do you think you need a doctor?”
“No, sir; I’ll be all right in a few days.”
“Where did you fall?”
“Down by the brook, while we were playing tag.”
“Indeed! Well, you want to be more careful in the future,” was Captain Putnam’s advice, and then he left Baxter. If he suspected anything he did not let on. To a certain extent he believed in letting boys fight out their own battles.
The Rover boys had come to Putnam Hall in the fall, and now summer sports were cast aside among the pupils, and football and hare and hounds became the rage.
As we know, Sam was an excellent runner, and hare and hounds just suited him.
“We must ask the captain to let us take a long trip next Saturday afternoon,” he said; and the boys went to the owner of Putnam Hall in a body and obtained permission.
It was decided that Sam and Fred should be the hares, while Larry Colby was to be leading hound. As Frank Harrington had a trumpet he was made whipper-in. Captain Putnam supplied the boys with a package of old copying books, and these were cut up into small bits and stuffed into two pillow cases loaned by Mrs. Green.
The start was made on a clear but frosty afternoon. The hares stood on the parade ground, with the hounds, to the number of thirty, behind them. George Strong had consented to start them off. The hares were to be given three minutes start of the little scholars and five minutes start of the big boys.
“All ready?” asked the second assistant of Putnam Hall, as he took out his watch.
“All ready,” answered Sam and Fred.
“Then go!” And away went the two boys straight for the cornfield, dropping bits of paper as they sped along. They leaped the fence in the rear, crossed the brook, and then started along a path leading through the woods beyond.
“We mustn’t dream of letting them catch us,” remarked Sam, as he ran on, with Fred directly behind him. “I wonder where this path leads to?”
“The top of the mountain, so Mr. Strong told me. He said there was another path coming down to the westward.”
On and on they went along the path until they came to a narrow mountain road. Here they met a farmer carting a number of logs in his wagon, and stopped him to ask a few questions.
“Yes, that road will take you right up to the top,” he said. “But you want to be careful and not make a wrong turn, or you may get lost.”
“I’m not afraid of being lost,” said Fred with a light laugh; and on they sped again, as rapidly as ever, for Fred was as good a runner as Sam, and the pair worked very well together.
At the top of the first rise of ground they came to a spot that was somewhat bare, and here they halted to look back.
“There are the small fellows!” cried Sam, pointing with his finger. “And the big ones are not far behind.”
“They are speeding along in good shape,” was Fred’s comment. “Come on, before they spot us!” And they hurried up the next hill. Here they encountered a number of rocks, and were brought to a halt several times to determine which was the best path to pursue.
“By jinks! the farmer was right—we are getting lost!” said Sam presently.
“Where is the path?”
“I think it is to the right.”
“And I think it is to the left.”
At this both lads looked at each other, then burst out laughing.
“It can’t be in both directions, Fred.”
“That’s true, and I am sure I am right.”
“All right, we’ll try it,” and they did, but it was a good ten minutes before the path came into view again, and meanwhile the first of the hounds drew dangerously close.
But the game was by no means over, as we shall see.
CHAPTER XIII
WHAT THE GAME OF HARE AND HOUND LED TO
“What a glorious view!”
It was Sam who uttered the words. The top of the mountain had been reached at last, and the boys were feasting their eyes on the grand panorama spread on all sides.
“How beautiful the lake looks!” said Fred.
“And how far one can see!”
“It’s a pity we didn’t bring a pair of glasses
with us, Fred. But, say, I’m hungry.”
“So am I. Let us eat that lunch at once and then start on the return.”
Each had brought a sandwich along, and these were soon consumed and washed down with a drink of cold water from a spring not far away. Then on they went, over the top of the mountain, and along a path which they thought would bring them around its western base. It was now four o’clock, leaving them two hours in which to get back to Putnam Hall.
About a third of the distance down the mountain side had been covered, and Sam was slightly in advance, when suddenly he uttered a cry of alarm.
“Look out, Fred!”
“What is it?”
“A snake!”
“Where?”
“Over yonder! And he is coming for us!”
Sam was right; it was a snake—an angry looking reptile all of six feet long, and as thick as Sam’s wrist. It hissed savagely as it advanced, first upon Sam and then upon Fred.
If there was one thing which could fill Fred Garrison full of terror it was a snake, and the yell he gave would have outmatched that of an Indian on the warpath.
“Save me!” he screamed. “Don’t let him touch me!” “Jump back!” cried Sam, and leaped himself. Then, seeing a tall rock handy, he sprang upon it, and here Fred joined him.
Now, it happened that the snake had its home under the rock, and the movement of the lads made it more angry than ever. With a fierce hiss it came for the rock and disappeared underneath, out of the range of their vision.
“It’s gone under the rock!” panted Fred. He was so agitated he could scarcely speak.
“I know it,” returned Sam. “I wonder if it means to crawl up here?”
“Oh, don’t say that, Sam. I—I—can’t we hit it with something?”
“I haven’t a thing but the bag of paper.”
“Neither have I. Oh, what shall we do?”
“Perhaps, we had better stay here until the others come up.”
“Do you think the snake will keep quiet that long?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
Very much disturbed, the two boys peered over the edge of the rock. They were not versed in the different species of reptiles, and knew not but that the one at hand might be poisonous.
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