CHAPTER X
HOW A RACE WAS WON
It was a bright, clear day in early summer when the athletic contests ofOak Hall came off. All the academy boys assembled for the affair, andwith them were a number of folks from the town, and also some studentsfrom the Rockville Military Academy, a rival institution of learning, asmy old readers already know.
The contests began with pole vaulting and putting the shot, and, much tothe surprise of all, Chip Macklin won out over half a dozen boysslightly larger than himself. Luke Watson also won one of the contests,and the banjo player and Macklin were roundly applauded by theirfriends.
"Dave Porter coached Macklin," said one small boy to another. "I saw himdoing it. I can tell you, Chip is picking up."
"Yes," was the answer. "And he doesn't seem to be afraid of that bullyof a Plum any more, either."
After the shot-putting and vaulting came the quarter-mile dash, forwhich Ben had entered.
"Go in and win, Ben!" cried Dave, to his old chum. "I know you can doit if you'll only try."
"Nat Poole will win that race!" came roughly from Gus Plum, who stoodnear.
"Hi, catch the ball, Gus!" sang out Nat Poole, from across the field,and threw a ball in Ben's direction. Plum leaped for the sphere, bumpedup against Ben, and both went down, with the bully on top.
"Plum, you did that on purpose!" cried Roger, who was close by. "Shameon you!"
"Shut up! I didn't do it on purpose!" howled the bully, arising. "Saythat again and I'll knock you down!"
"You certainly did do it on purpose," said Phil, stepping up quickly."You ought to be reported for it."
"Aw, dry up!" muttered Plum, and walked away.
When Ben arose he could scarcely get his breath. He was not hurt, butthe wind had been knocked completely out of him.
"I--I don't know if I can ru-run or not!" he gasped. "He came--came downon me like a ton of bricks!"
"Wait, I'll speak to Mr. Dale about this," said Dave, and ran off. As aresult of the interview the contest was delayed ten minutes--anothertaking its place--much to the disgust of Gus Plum and Nat Poole, bothof whom had reckoned on putting Ben out of the contest.
At the start of the quarter-mile dash Nat Poole and two others forgedahead, but Ben was on his mettle, and, setting his teeth, soon began toclose up the gap.
"Go it, Ben!" yelled Dave. "You can win, I know it!"
"Sail right past 'em!" came from the senator's son. "Hump yourself, oldman!"
"Make 'em take the dust!" added Phil.
Ben hardly heard the words, for he was now running with all hisstrength. He passed first one boy and then another, and then cameabreast of Nat Poole. So they moved on to within a dozen paces of thefinish. Then Ben made a leap ahead, and so did one of the othercontestants, and Ben came in the winner, with the other boy second, andNat Poole third. A roar went right across the field.
"Ben Basswood wins!"
"Jake Tatmon is second!"
"Nat Poole came in only third, and he boasted he was going to win,sure!"
As soon as the race was over, Nat Poole sneaked out of sight, behindsome friends. He was bitterly disappointed, and could scarcely keep fromrunning away altogether.
"You didn't fix him at all," he whispered to Gus Plum, when he got thechance. "He was in prime condition."
"I did the best I could--you saw him go down, with me on top of him,"retorted the bully. "Now, don't you forget what you promised," he added,sharply.
"Oh, I'll keep my word, don't fear," growled Nat Poole. "I hate DavePorter too much to let him win!"
There were some standing and running jumps, in which Roger and Phil wonsecond and third places, and then came the hurdle race, in which Davewas to participate. In the meantime Nat Poole had shed his track outfitand donned his regular clothes and a rather heavy pair of walking shoes.
"Please let me pass," said he to the crowd in which Dave was standing,and, without warning, brought one of his heavy shoes down smartly onDave's light, canvas foot-covering.
"Ouch!" cried the country boy, and gave Poole a quick shove. "What doyou mean by stepping on my foot in that fashion, Nat Poole?"
"Oh, excuse me," said the Crumville aristocrat, coolly. "Didn't know itwas your foot, Porter, or I shouldn't have stepped on it for anything."
"You've just about lamed me!" gasped Dave. The pain was still intense.
"Dave, I believe this is a put-up job!" said Ben, quickly. "Plum agreedto lame me so that Poole could win, and now Poole is trying the sametrick on you for Plum's benefit."
"No such thing!" roared Nat Poole, but his face grew fiery red. "It wasa pure accident. I don't have to lame Porter. Plum will win, anyhow."
"It certainly looks suspicious," said Shadow Hamilton. "He hadn't anybusiness to force his way through our crowd."
"Oh, don't you put in your oar, you old sleep-walker!" growled NatPoole, and then hurried off and out of sight behind the gymnasium. Atthe parting shot Shadow became pale, but nobody seemed to notice theremark.
"Can you go ahead?" asked Phil, of Dave.
"I think so," was the answer. "But that was a mean thing to do. He camenear crushing my little toe."
Fortunately, several of the hurdles had not been properly placed, and ittook some little time to arrange them properly. During that intervalRoger dressed the injured foot for his chum, which made it feel muchbetter.
"Are you all ready?" was the question put to the contestants, as theylined up. Then came a pause, followed by the crack of a revolver, andthey were off.
The encounter with Nat Poole had nerved Dave as he had seldom beennerved before. Ben had won, and he made up his mind to do the same,regardless of the fact that Gus Plum and one of the other boys in therace were bigger than himself. He took the first and second hurdles withease, and then found himself in a bunch, with Plum on one side and a ladnamed Cashod on the other.
"Whoop her up, Cashod!" he yelled out. "Come on, and show the otherswhat we can do!"
"Right you are, Porter!" was the answering cry.
"Not much!" puffed out Gus Plum. "I'm the winner here!"
"Rats!" answered Dave. "You'll come in fifth, Plum. You're windedalready!" And then, with a mighty effort, he leaped to the front, withCashod on his heels. "Poole didn't do your dirty work well enough," heflung back over his shoulder as he took his fourth hurdle.
The taunts angered Gus Plum, and this made him lose ground, until,almost before he knew it, the third pupil in the race dashed past him.Then he found himself neck-and-neck with the fifth contestant.
"Here they come!"
"Dave Porter is ahead, with Cashod second!"
"Collins has taken third place!"
"Plum and Higgins are tied for fourth place!"
"Not much! Higgins is ahead!"
"And there goes Sanderson ahead of Plum, too! Phew! Wonder if that iswhat Plum calls winning? He had better study his dictionary!"
Dave cleared the last hurdle and came in a winner.--_Page87._]
With a mighty leap Dave cleared the last hurdle, and came in a winner.Then the others finished in the order named, excepting that Gus Plum wasso disgusted that he refused to take the last hurdle, for which some ofthe boys hissed him, considering it unsportsmanlike, which it was.
"My shoe got loose," said the bully, lamely. "If it hadn't been forthat, I should have won." But nobody believed him.
"Dave, the way you went ahead was simply great," cried Phil. "It was asfine a hurdle race as I ever saw."
"Yes, and he helped me, too," said Cashod. "I was thinking Plum would goahead, until Porter laughed at him. It was all right," and Cashod bobbedhis head to show how satisfied he was.
If Nat Poole had been disgusted Gus Plum was more so, and he lost notime in disappearing from public gaze. The two cronies met back of thegymnasium.
"You hurt Porter about as much as I hurt Basswood," Plum grumbled. "Ifyou can't do better than that next time, you had better give up trying."
"Oh, 'the pot needn't call the k
ettle black,'" retorted Poole. "You madejust as much of a mess of it as I did. We'll be the laughing stock ofthe Porter crowd now."
"If they laugh at me, I'll punch somebody's nose. As it is, I've got anaccount to settle with Porter, and I am going to settle it pretty quick,too."
"What do you mean?"
"He jeered me while we were in the race. He has got to take it back, orthere is going to be trouble," muttered the bully, clenching his fists.
In his usual bragging way Gus Plum let several students know that he"had it in" for Dave, and this reached the country boy's ears the nextday directly after school.
"I am not afraid of him," said Dave, coolly. "If he wants to find me, heknows where to look for me."
Shortly after this Dave and some of his chums took a walk down to theboathouse dock. There they ran into Plum, Poole, and several of theiradmirers.
"Here is Porter now!" said one boy, in a low voice. "Now is your chance,Gus."
"Yes, let us see you do what you said," came from another.
Plum had not expected an encounter so soon, but there seemed to be noway of backing out, so he advanced quickly upon Dave, and clenched hisfists.
"You can fight, or apologize," he said, loudly.
"Apologize, to _you_?" queried Dave, coolly.
"Yes, to me, and at once," blustered the bully.
"I am not apologizing to you, Plum."
"Then you'll fight."
"If you hit me, I shall defend myself."
"Hit you? If I sail into you, you'll think a cyclone struck you. If youknow where you are wise, you'll apologize."
"On the contrary, Plum, I want to let you and all here know what I thinkof you. You are a bully, a braggart--and a coward!"
Dave's eyes were flashing dangerously, and as he gazed steadily at Plum,the latter backed away a step.
"You--you dare to talk to me like that?"
"Why not? Nobody ought to be afraid to tell the truth."
"Oh, don't stand gassing!" burst out Nat Poole. "Give it to him,Gus--give it to him good and hard."
"I will!" cried the bully, and making a quick leap, he delivered a blowstraight for Dave's face.
Had the blow landed as intended, the country boy would undoubtedly havesustained a black eye. But Dave ducked slightly, and the bully's fistshot past his ear. Then Dave drew off and hit Plum a stinging blow onthe chin.
"A fight! A fight!" was the rallying cry from all sides, and in atwinkling a crowd assembled to see the impromptu contest.
Dave Porter in the South Seas; or, The Strange Cruise of the Stormy Petrel Page 13
