CHAPTER VII
THROUGH THE ICE
"Shove over, Tom."
"Say, what do you want, the whole sofa?"
"No, but give a fellow his share, can't you?" and Phil looked down onhis chum, who was sprawled over a goodly part of the ancient andhonorable article of furniture. "Sid has one armchair, and Frank theother, and I want some place to rest my weary bones," declared Phil."I've been out with the natural history class after bugs, and otherspecimens, and I'll wager we walked ten miles. Give me a place to rest."
"Try the floor," grunted Tom, who was too comfortable to move. "What doyou want to come in for raising a row, just as we're nice and cozy?"
"Say, haven't I a right here?" demanded Phil. "Who helped fix that oldsofa, I'd like to know, when all its bones were showing? Give me a whackat it, Tom."
But Tom refused to budge, and presently, in the room of the fourinseparables, there was a scuffling sound, and the tall pitcher felthimself being suddenly slewed around by the feet, until there was roomenough for another on the sofa. But Phil did the gymnastic act too well,for he shoved Tom a bit too far, and, a moment later one hundred andfifty pounds more or less, slumped to the floor with a jar.
"There, now you have done it!" cried Sid, as he sprang from one of theeasy chairs, and made a grab for the fussy little alarm clock, that hadbeen jarred from its place on the table by the concussion of Tom's fall.
"Grab it!" yelled Frank.
"Safe!" ejaculated Sid, holding it up. "But it was a close call. Thenext time you fellows want to do the catch-as-catch-can, go out in thehall. This is a gentleman's resort, mind."
"I'll punch your head--if I think of it to-morrow," grumbled Tom, whohad been half asleep when Phil so unceremoniously awakened him. "Remindme of it--somebody."
"On your peril," laughed Phil, as he grabbed up some of the cushionswhich had fallen under his chum, and made an easy place for himself onthe now vacant sofa. Tom continued to lie on the floor.
"Anything doing outside when you came in?" asked Frank.
"Not much. I stopped in the gym, and a lot of the fellows were talkingtrack athletics, and Grasshopper was jumping."
"It looks as if there'd be something doing this Spring," commentedFrank. "I was talking to Holly Cross, Kindlings and some of the others,and there's a good show for the new league. All the other teams are hotfor it. We've got to have several more meetings though, and see if wecan get enough cash to buy the prizes, and arrange for the meet."
"Would it be held here on our grounds?" asked Tom, showing a suddeninterest.
"Well, some of the fellows want it here, and Boxer Hall is going to makea strong bid for it," said Sid. "I think, and so does Kindlings, that itought to be on some neutral field."
"I agree with Dan Woodhouse," remarked Frank, giving "Kindlings" hisright name. "A neutral field will be fair to all. Well, if this weatherkeeps on we'll be out practicing in a few weeks."
But, though the weather did not bear out the promise of the first fewwarm days of Spring, there was still plenty of practice. The enthusiasmover a track meet grew, and many more lads than were expected put in anappearance at the gymnasium, to try out their skill over the hurdles,vaulting the bar, in hundred yard dashes, putting the weight, shot andhammer, while any number said they were going to try to qualify for themile run, and the broad and high jumps.
Meanwhile, more or less correspondence went on among the athleticcommittees of the four institutions that naturally would form the newleague, if matters came to a head. Exter was comparatively a newcollege, but she stood well to the fore in athletics.
The end of the Winter was at hand, when one night there came anunprecedented freeze. Tom and his chums awakened shivering in theirquarters, for the window had been left open, and the thermometer wasaway down.
"Wow! Somebody turn on the heat!" cried Tom, poking his nose out fromunder the covers.
"It's Phil's turn," declared Sid.
"It is not," was the answer.
"I'll toss you for it, Sid," put in Frank, leaping out of bed, andreaching for his trousers to get a coin. "Call!"
"Heads!" shouted Sid.
"It's tails," declared the big Californian.
"Oh, well, turn it on, like a good fellow, now that you're up," advisedTom.
"Well, I like your nerve!" ejaculated Frank with a laugh, but, goodnaturedly, he did as he was asked, and soon the radiator was thumpingand pounding away, while the boys waited a few minutes longer beforeventuring out from under the warm covers.
"There'll be skating all right!" declared Tom, as he breathed on thefrosty window. "We'll have a last glide on Sunny River. Who's for a spinbefore breakfast?"
"Not for mine!" cried Phil, and none of the others showed an inclinationto stroll out in the frosty air until necessary. Before chapel, however,several of the lads paid a visit to the stream, coming back with glowingreports of the smooth ice.
"A hockey game this afternoon!" cried Tom, after lectures, and scores ofothers agreed with him.
"Not until some of you blue-jays do your turn in the gym!" declaredKindlings and Holly Cross, who had constituted themselves a sort ofcoaching pair, pending the selection of a regular trainer for the trackgames.
Mr. Lighton, the professional coach was temporarily absent, and it wasnot known whether he would be back in time to take charge of the varioussquads or not.
"Do you mean to say you're going to make us practice, when it may be thelast chance for a skate?" asked Tom.
"I sure am," replied Holly. "But we'll cut it short. Come on now,fellows, no backing out. We got to the top of the heap at football andbaseball, and we don't want to slump on the track. Randall must be keptto the fore."
"That's right!" came the cry, and the lads piled off for the gymnasium,where they indulged in some hard practice.
"That new fellow, Shambler, seems to be doing some good jumping,"remarked Phil to Tom, as the two were doing a little jog around thetrack.
"Yes, I wonder where's he from, anyhow? I never heard much about himwhile he was at Harkness--I wonder if he really is from that college?"
"Give it up. What difference does it make, anyhow? Harkness was a smallcollege, and her records didn't count. But Shambler sure can jump. He'sas good at the high as he is at the broad. There he goes for anothertry, and they've got it up to the four-foot-ten mark I guess."
"Four eleven," remarked Phil, who could read the marks on the standards."If he does that he's a good one. The record is five feet seven."
"There--he did it and a couple of inches over," cried Tom, as Shamblermade a magnificent leap. "Say, we need him all right."
"That's so. I only wish he was a little more companionable. He trainstoo much in with that Boxer Hall sporting set, to suit me."
"Yes, too bad. But it can't be helped. Now he's going to try the broad.Let's watch him."
Shambler came up to the take-off on the run, and shot into the air.Forward like a stone from a catapult he went and unable to recoverhimself he crashed full into Tom, who was standing watching.
"Look out!" cried Shambler, as he hung on to Tom to avoid falling. "Whatare you trying to do, anyhow? Queer my jump? I'd have broken my record,only for you!" He spoke in angry tones.
"I'm sorry," began Tom, "I didn't----"
"Looks as though you got there on purpose," interrupted the jumper,flashing a black look at Tom. "Isn't the gym big enough for you?"
"Look here!" cried Tom, nettled at the tone. "I said I was sorry forwhat I couldn't help, and that ought to be enough. I didn't mean to getin your way, and if I spoiled your jump----"
"You spoiled it all right," broke out Shambler. "Now I've got to tryover again. Get back out of the way!" he ordered to Tom and Phil, asthough they were the veriest freshmen, instead of being upper-classmen.
"You----" spluttered Tom, but Phil caught him by the sleeve.
"Don't say it," he advised. "Let the cad alone. If he's like that, thesooner Randall knows it the better."
"All right," ans
wered Tom in a low voice, swallowing his just wrath,and he swung aside. Shambler tried the jump again, and, though he didexceedingly well there was little applause for him from the watchingthrong, for many of the lads had heard what he said to Tom.
"There, I guess we've done our share!" exclaimed Tom, after a bit. "Comeon out on the ice now, Phil, Sid and Frank have gone, and we don't wantto get left on a hockey game."
Sunny River was thronged with students, and soon several games were inprogress. A number of the girls and boys from Fairview Institute skateddown, and among them was Phil's sister Ruth, and her three girl chums.Naturally Tom and his three friends soon deserted the hockey game toskate with the girls, not heeding the entreaties of their companions.
"Let the lady killers go!" sneered Shambler, who had taken his place inone of the games. "We want sports in our crowd."
"We must go home early," said Ruth after a bit. "We are to have a classmeeting to-night, and I'm one of the hostesses."
"Strictly a girls' party?" asked Tom.
"No boys allowed," was the laughing answer, and after some pleasantriesthe four girls started up the frozen surface of the stream, theirescorts going down. The hockey games were over, and many of the playershad taken off their skates. Turning to wave a farewell to Ruth and theothers, Tom saw a solitary lad skating near them.
"There's Shambler," he thought. "I guess he'd like to do somelady-killing on his own account. I hope the girls don't get skating withhim."
Tom, who had lingered a few moments, now spurted ahead to catch up tohis companions, who were some distance in advance. He had almost reachedthem when he was aware of some one skating rapidly up behind him. Hewheeled about to behold Shambler, with a white, set face, coming on likethe wind. And, a second later, Tom heard the screams of the girls andsaw but two where, a moment before, there had been four.
"What--what happened?" he gasped.
"They--they went through the ice I guess!" panted Shambler. "They werenear me, and I heard it crack. I--I skated away--I wanted to get help.I--I----"
"You skated away!" thundered Tom. "Sid--Phil--fellows! The girls arethrough the ice--an air hole I guess--come on back! Shambler--Shamblerskated away!" he murmured under his breath as he looked unutterablethings at the new lad. "Come on, boys!"
There was a ring of steel on ice. Four figures turned and like the windshot up the river, while Tom, in the lead, shouted:
"We're coming--we're coming. To the rescue! Keep away from the edge,girls!" He wanted to warn back the two who had not fallen in.
"I--I can't swim," murmured the white-faced Shambler, as he kept on downthe river. "I--I'll get a doctor."
For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics Page 7
