Gif Garrison had also received a letter, and this he read with tremendous satisfaction. His face was aglow as he called the Rover boys to him.
“I’ve got an important announcement to make to you fellows,” he said. “Let us go up to your rooms and talk it over.”
“What is the announcement?” questioned Andy eagerly.
“I’ll tell you when we are alone,” answered Gif.
CHAPTER IV
SOMETHING ABOUT CEDAR LODGE
“Oh, go ahead, Gif, and get it off your chest!”
“Don’t keep us waiting.”
“Has some one died and left you a fortune?”
Such were some of the remarks made after Gif Garrison had said that he had an important announcement to make to the four Rover boys.
“Not another word until we get to your rooms,” said Gif. “And, Andy, won’t you please run off and get Spouter Powell? I just saw him heading for the gymnasium.”
“All right, Gif. But don’t you dare to let the others in on the secret until I get back,” returned the fun-loving Rover boy, and away he sped on his errand.
A few minutes later all of the lads mentioned were assembled in the Rover boys’ sitting room, some on chairs, one on a table, and two on a couch. Andy playfully started to throw a pillow at Fred, but Gif at once put up his hand in protest.
“Any horseplay, and I’ll call it all off,” he warned.
“I’ll be good, Gif!” cried Andy reluctantly, and got rid of the pillow by using it for a back rest.
“This letter is from my Uncle Louis, who is a partner with my father in the ownership of a large tract of land not far from the seacoast,” began Gif. “There is a small but comfortable bungalow on it, known as Cedar Lodge. Nobody was going to use the Lodge this winter, and I suggested to my folks and Uncle Louis that they allow us fellows to occupy it during the holidays.”
“And what did they say?” questioned Randy eagerly.
“They said I could go there if I wanted to, and I could take you Rover boys and Spouter with me, provided you could get consent to go.”
“Isn’t that dandy!”
“Of course we’ll go, Gif. Horses couldn’t hold us back!”
“How is the hunting there? Can we get a deer or a moose?”
“How do you get there?”
These were a few questions hurled at Gif after he had made his important announcement. He placed his hands over his ears in despair.
“One question at a time, please!” he begged. “What do you think I am, anyhow—an encyclopædia? To get there you go from here to Portview, and then along the coast to a place called Timminsport. From Timminsport you have either to take a sleigh or else hike to the camp, which is about five or six miles away. There is an old fellow, named Jed Wallop, who lives near the property in a little shack some distance from the bungalow. If we want him to, he will get a sled and drive us to the place, and he will also assist us in getting settled, and in getting what stores we may need—that is, provided you fellows can really go.”
“You can count of me,” declared Spouter promptly. “My folks said I could do as I pleased during the holidays, provided I kept out of mischief. And what mischief could a fellow get into in the midst of those grand primeval forests where perhaps the woodsman has never dared to lay his axe to the heart of the sturdy oak, and where the timid deer, in fancied freedom, ambles through the darkening glades, and—”
“Turn off the spigot, Spouter, or you’ll have us flooded!” burst out Randy.
“Save your orations for the day before election,” came from Fred.
“You can give us the rest of it, Spouter, when we are in camp some night and have nothing to read and don’t know what to do,” suggested Jack.
“That’s it—always cutting my rhetorical effusions short,” remarked Spouter reproachfully. “Some day, when you are aching to have me make a speech, you’ll find me dumb.”
“Tell us more about this camp, Gif,” cried Fred.
Thereupon Gif Garrison related all he knew concerning the camp, which was located on a small stream of water that in the summer time ran down to a bay emptying into the Atlantic Ocean. There was a good deal of timber on the tract, and, so far as Gif knew, there was quite some small game.
“I don’t know about deer,” he continued. “More than likely the big animals have gone further north. But one might get a chance at a wolf or a fox, and maybe some brook mink. We’ll be sure to get plenty of rabbits and squirrels and ducks, and most likely some partridges and maybe wild turkeys. But, first of all, you Rovers have got to make sure that you can go.”
“Oh, we’ll arrange that somehow, Gif,” said Jack. “Of course, we’ll want to go home first and see our folks and cheer them up a bit. They are pretty lonely now that our dads are over in France.”
“Oh, I’m going home myself first. But we can have at least three weeks up there, because the school is going to be closed more than a month before and after Christmas.”
Gif’s announcement was such a pleasing one that the Rovers found it hard work after that to settle down to their studies. Letters were at once written to their mothers, and presently word came back that they might go to the camp immediately after Christmas if they wanted to do so. Then Jack telephoned to his sister at Clearwater Hall and got word back that Ruth and May would go down to New York with Mary and Martha and remain there until it was time to return to the girls’ school.
“It’s too bad we can’t be at home while the girls are there,” remarked Jack to his cousins. He sighed deeply.
“You mean it’s too bad you can’t be there while Ruth is there,” put in Andy slyly.
“That’s the time you struck the nail on the head!” cried Randy.
“Humph! you needn’t rap me about it,” returned the young captain briefly. “I guess you’d like to see the girls yourselves.”
Now that they knew what they were going to do during the midwinter holidays, the Rover boys and their chums were eager to have the school session come to an end. But they did not neglect their studies, nor did Jack and Fred neglect their duties as officers.
Jack had an essay to write on “The Real Training of a Soldier,” and he spent a great deal of time over this.
“Not but what there is a good deal about it that I don’t know,” said Jack to his cousins. “I guess dad could write a better essay than I can turn out. He’s seen some of the real side of a soldier’s life.”
“What wonderful things our dads will have to tell when they get back,” said Fred. “That is, if they ever do get back,” he added anxiously.
“Oh, they’ve got to come back, Fred! They’ve simply got to!” returned Jack. But his face, too, showed his worry. The Rover boys did not care to admit it to each other, yet each day every one of them worried over their parents. It was dreadful to think that one’s father, or one’s beloved uncle, might be killed by the Germans, or even badly wounded.
On the Saturday following the bobsled contest the boys assembled once more on the long Hill, and this time they were accompanied by many of the girls from Clearwater Hall. Jack and his cousins gave Ruth and the others many rides down the hill, much to their mutual delight.
“Here comes Bill Glutts with his Yellow Streak,” cried Fred presently.
“Here’s a chance to have another race with him, Jack,” said Fatty Hendry. “He says you won the other race by a foul.”
“That’s the talk, Jack!” cried Dan Soppinger. “Show him and the whole crowd that you beat him fairly.”
At first Jack did not care to pit himself again against Glutts. But there was so much talk that at length he consented, but insisted upon it that the whole course of the slide must be policed by the cadets.
“All right, we’ll do that,” said Major Ralph Mason, and then ordered all the cadets he could collect to station themselves on each s
ide of the slide from the top to where it ran out on the lake.
“Oh, Jack, I hope you do win again!” said Ruth anxiously.
“I intend to do my best,” he answered.
“You have got to win, Jack Rover!” cried his sister Martha. “If you don’t beat that great big clumsy Glutts, I’ll never speak to you again.”
With so many cadets stationed along the course, Bill Glutts felt that his chances of winning the race were diminishing. He had thought that he could crowd Jack as he had done before, but now Walt Baxter laid down the law in such a manner that it could not be misunderstood.
“I will toss up a coin,” said Walt, “and if you guess right, Glutts, you can take your choice of sides, and whichever side you or Jack Rover select, that side you must stick to from start to finish.”
The coin was tossed up, and Bill Glutts called out “tails” and won. Then he said he would take the right side of the slide, that which Jack Rover and his chums had previously used.
“All right, then, Glutts,” announced Walt. “Now then, remember that you have got to keep to the right all the way down; and you, Jack Rover, must keep to the left. If either of you crosses the middle of the course, that one will be disqualified and the race will be given to the other.”
“All right, Walt, I will stick to the left from start to finish; just watch me and see,” declared Jack.
“And I’ll stick to the right,” announced Bill Glutts. But his face showed anything but a happy expression as he spoke.
Jack had the same crowd on board that he had before, but Glutts made several changes. He retained Nick Carncross and Codfish, but for the other three cadets substituted youths who were slightly built, and consequently rather light in weight.
“He’s saving all the pounds he can,” whispered Randy.
“Jack, do you think the right side of the course is better than the left?” questioned Gif.
“I don’t know. One looks about as good as the other to me,” was the young captain’s reply.
Professor Frank Grawson had come up and was quite interested in the proposed contest.
“I used to do a lot of bobsledding myself,” said the professor, who was well liked by nearly all the cadets. “I used to have a home-made sled which was my pride for several seasons. Now, to make this more interesting, I’ll put up a prize for the winner.”
“Fine, Professor! Fine!” was the cry.
“What’s the prize?”
The teacher thought for a moment.
“Well, every boy likes a good pocket knife,” he said presently. “Now, to the one who wins this race I’ll give a first-class, four-bladed, buck-handled knife. I saw some very good ones down in the hardware store at the Point, and I’ll get one Monday.”
“That’s splendid, Professor!” cried Jack. “I’ll do my best to win that knife.”
“You’ll see that knife coming to me!” exclaimed Bill Glutts, glaring at the young captain.
Walt Baxter now called for the contestants to get ready. In a minute more the two bobsleds stood side by side, each with its load of passengers, and with Fred ready to push one to the front and Nick Carncross ready to shove the other.
“All ready!” shouted Walt. “One—two—three! Go!”
And away both bobsleds dashed, and the great race was on.
CHAPTER V
THE DEFEAT OF THE BULLY
“Go ahead, Jack! You’ve got to win!”
“Don’t let ‘em beat you, Bill. Put it all over those Rovers.”
“Oh, Jack, don’t let them get the best of you!” cried Ruth.
“You’ve got to win!” screamed Martha.
“Here is where Glutts shows ‘em what the Yellow Streak can do!”
So the cries ran on as the two bobsleds slowly gathered momentum and started down the long slope leading to Clearwater Lake.
At the beginning Glutts had a little the better of it, because the right side of the slide seemed to be more slippery than the other. He was the first to gain the top of the nearest rise and he shot over this while Jack’s bobsled was still climbing the slope.
“Hurrah! Bill Glutts is ahead!”
“He said the Yellow Streak could beat any thing in this vicinity.”
“Oh, do you really think Glutts will win?” questioned Ruth anxiously, as she turned to Dan Soppinger.
“Well, I should hope not!” answered Dan.
“If he does win there will be no holding him down,” put in Ned Lowe, another chum of the Rovers. “He’ll crow to beat the band all winter.”
Forward went the two bobsleds, each steersman doing his best to guide his sled where running might be the easiest.
Just as Jack topped the first rise and started to speed down on the other side, he saw Bill Glutts start to resume his old tactics. The bully was running close to the center of the course, and now he overlapped the other side by at least six inches.
“Hi, there, Glutts! Get over on your side!” yelled one of the cadets who was helping to police the course.
“That’s right, Bill. Get over, or you’ll be disqualified,” added another.
“Keep to the right! Keep to the right!” was the cry from several others. And then, knowing that the eyes of all the cadets in that vicinity were upon him, the bully slowly steered over to his side of the course. And he was not any too quick, for otherwise there might have been a serious disaster. Down the slope of the first hill rushed the Blue Moon. Jack was on his side, but had not more than six inches to spare. Had Glutts kept on as he was running the Blue Moon would have sideswiped theYellow Streak, and there would undoubtedly have been a serious accident.
“Here comes the Blue Moon!”
“Say, but they are gathering some speed!”
“Hurrah, the Rovers are ahead!”
“Go on, Glutts! Go on! Don’t let ‘em beat you!”
It was true that the Blue Moon was now ahead and was slowly but surely increasing the distance between the Rovers and those aboard the Yellow Streak.
“Push her ahead, Bill! Push her ahead!” yelled Nick Carncross desperately.
“We’ve got to win!” cried Codfish.
“I’m doing the best I can,” muttered Bill Glutts between his set teeth, and his eyes glowed with hatred as he saw the Blue Moon vanishing over the second rise of the course.
After that, as Fatty Hendry remarked, “it was all over but the shouting.” Down toward the highway skirting the lake shot the Blue Moon. Then it ran swiftly along the final lap of the course and came out on Clearwater Lake, shooting several hundred feet beyond the finishing mark. The line was crossed while the Yellow Streak was still on the roadway beyond the lake shore.
“Hurrah! The Blue Moon wins!”
“My, but that was some run, believe me!”
“What will Bill Glutts have to say now?”
“He can’t say this wasn’t a fair race.”
The run for the Blue Moon had certainly been a swift one, and while Jack was congratulated on his victory, he was also praised for the way in which he had handled his speedy bobsled.
“We certainly came down fast,” remarked Randy. “I thought my ears were going to blow right off my head,” and this remark caused a general laugh.
Glutts had finished the race twelve seconds behind his opponent and was in anything but a happy frame of mind.
“There were a number of sticks and stones on my side of the slide, and they held us back,” he protested lamely. “I guess some of the fellows who didn’t want to see the Yellow Streak win put ‘em there.”
“I can’t believe that, Glutts,” answered Major Mason flatly. “I looked over the course, and it was just as clear on one side as it was on the other.”
“Don’t be a sorehead, Bill, just because you lost,” put in Fatty Hendry. “Be a good sport and shake hands with Jack ove
r your defeat.”
“I’ll do as I please,” roared the bully. “I don’t need any advice from you. You fellows are all against me.” And with this remark he turned his back on the crowd, and soon he and his cronies were making their way up along the lake shore, dragging the Yellow Streak behind them.
“It was a well won race, Captain Rover,” said Professor Grawson. “You can be proud of being the possessor of such a speedy bobsled. On Monday I shall take great pleasure in getting that knife for you.”
“Thank you, Professor. And I’ll take great pleasure in accepting the knife,” said Jack, with a grin.
“Well, that’s the time you squared up with Bill Glutts,” remarked Spouter, after the fun on Long Hill had come to an end and the boys had said good-bye to the girls and were on the return to Colby Hall. “You certainly paid him back for shoving you into that snowbank.”
“I don’t know whether I did or not,” answered the young captain. “Evidently Glutts doesn’t know when he’s had enough. I suppose he’ll be more bitter now than ever against me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Glutts,” put in Gif. “He’s nothing but a great big overgrown butcher boy.” He said this because it was a well-known fact that Bill Glutts was the only son of a wholesale butcher who had made a small fortune in manufacturing and selling frankfurters.
“I don’t see how a fellow like Nick Carncross can take up with him,” remarked Fatty Hendry.
“I know why he does that,” came from Ned Lowe. “Bill has had plenty of money to spend lately—an uncle or somebody sent him quite a wad—and Nick’s pocketbook, I imagine, is rather thin.”
“Say, Ned, come around to our rooms to-night and give us some music just to celebrate this glorious event!” cried Fred, for Ned Lowe was quite a performer on the mandolin and usually had some very funny songs to sing.
“All right, I’ll be glad to come,” answered the mandolin player. “Any eats?”
“Oh, maybe we can scrape up something,” answered Randy. The idea of a little spread on the quiet appealed to him.
The idea of a little spread appealed to the others, too, and as a consequence it was arranged between the Rovers and their chums that two of them should go to Haven Point for some things for the spread. This task was delegated to Andy and Fred, and they hurried off early in the evening, returning with several packages containing sandwiches, cake, candy, nuts and a large hand of bananas. In the meantime, the other Rover boys and Ned Lowe had gathered in Gif Garrison’s room, and there enjoyed themselves singing and listening to Ned’s playing of the mandolin.
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