With a good horse and a light buggy, it did not take long for the eldest Rover boy to reach the Stanhope cottage. The family had just had breakfast and were surprised to see him so early.
“Didn’t you have anything to eat?” questioned Dora. “If you didn’t, come right in, and I’ll make you an omelet and some coffee.”
“No, thank you, Dora,” he whispered. “I’ll have to wait for that until we’re keeping house together. Then—”
“Oh, Dick!” she cried and blushed like a rose.
“I had breakfast while driving over,—an orange and some sandwiches,” went on the youth. “Mrs. Green got them ready for me. Is there anything new?”
“No. Uncle John is waiting for you. He is in the woodshed, trying on some old rubber boots. He says one ought to have rubber boots to go into the swamp with.”
Dick hurried to the woodshed and there found that Mr. Laning had unearthed two pairs of boots, and he donned one pair while the farmer put on the other. A little later both got in the buggy and drove up the road they had traveled the night previous. Then they tied the horse to a tree, and followed the path leading to the edge of the swamp.
“Hullo, the hat is gone!” exclaimed Dick, as he came close to the black pool.
“Maybe it dropped to the ground,” suggested John Laning.
Both looked around, but could see nothing of the missing head covering. Then Dick caught sight of a slip of paper pinned to the tree.
“Here is a message of some kind,” he said, and read it. The message ran as follows:
“I reckon I fooled you this trip. I was up in the tree all the time. By the time you get this I shall be miles away. Ta ta until the next time.”
“Humph!” muttered Dick. “What do you think of that?” And he passed the message to his companion.
“He certainly fooled us,” answered Mr. Laning. “I suppose those yells were only to put us off our guard. It’s a pity we didn’t carry his hat off for a souvenir of the occasion—as you youngsters put it.” And the farmer grinned.
“Perhaps he is still around,” suggested Dick. “If he tried to fool us once he might try to fool us again.”
“That’s so, too. It won’t do any harm to take a good look around while we are at it, Dick.”
They spent the whole of the morning walking around the swamp and in trying to trace the movements of Merrick, but without success. Nothing concerning the rascal was to be found, and when they felt both tired out and hungry they returned to the Stanhope cottage. Here the girls and the ladies had a hot dinner awaiting them and served them liberally, finishing up with apple pie that Dora had made for Dick’s especial benefit.
“It’s fine!” he said to her, on the sly.
“Then you like it?” she answered, with a smile.
“Do I? Dora, when we’re keeping house you shall make me a pie like this twice a week,” he added, earnestly.
“Dick, if you don’t stop your joking—”
“Oh, I’m not joking, Dora. Of course, if you’re not willing to make me a pie now and then—”
“Oh, it isn’t that—I’ll make all the pies you want. But—but—” And then Dora blushed so furiously that she had to run from the room. Dick looked after her longingly and heaved a mountainous sigh. He wished that all his academy days were over and that he was engaged in business and settled down in life. He knew just what kind of a home he wanted, and who he wanted in it besides himself—and perhaps Dora knew, too.
“But I can’t think of those things yet,” he mused, as he finished his dinner. “I’ve got to go out into the world first, get into business, and prove my worth.”
The meal over, it was decided that Dick and Mr. Laning should drive to Cedarville and get into communication with the local authorities and also the authorities at Ithaca. This was done, and the following day another hunt was made for Merrick. But he could not be found; and there, for the time being, the affair rested.
“I think we’ll hear from him again some day,” said Dick, and he was right; they did hear from the swindler, and when they least expected it.
CHAPTER XXI
A BOB SLED RACE
“Whoop! hurrah! it’s snowing!”
Thus shouted Tom one day, as he burst into the library of the Hall, where Dick, Sam and a number of others were perusing books and the latest magazines.
“Hard?” queried Sam, dropping the magazine he held.
“No, but steady. Peleg Snuggers says it is going to be a heavy fall, and he generally knows.”
“And he loves snowstorms so,” put in Fred, with a laugh. “Do you remember the time we made a big fort and had a regular battle?”
“Indeed I do!” cried Larry. “It was great! We ought to have something of that sort this winter.”
“I was hoping we’d get skating before it snowed,” put in Songbird.
“Well, we can’t have all the good things at once,” answered Dick. “I think a heavy snowstorm is jolly. Somehow, when it snows I always feel like whistling and singing.”
“And I feel like making up verses,” murmured the poet of the school, and went on:
“Oh, the snow, the beautiful snow,
Coming down when the wind does blow.
Coming down both day and night,
Leaving the earth a wonderful sight!
Oh, the snow, the heavenly snow!—”
“Wetting our feet wherever we go!”
continued Tom, and added:
“Oh, the snow,
When the wind doth blow,
It sets a pace
And hits our face
And we are froze
Down to the toes
And in the slush,
That’s just like mush,
We cannot stop,
But go ker-flop!”
“Tom, the first thing you know, you’ll be taking Songbird’s laurels away from him,” observed Larry.
“Perish the thought!” answered the fun-loving Rover, tragically.
“I don’t hope you call that poetry,” came from Songbird, in deep disgust. “Why, Hans can do better than that; can’t you, Dutchy?”
“Sure, I can make up some find boetry,” answered Hans. “Chust you listen to dis. I make him ub von night ven I couldn’t go to sleep.”
“Der vos a leetle pird,
He sits ubon a dree,
Dot leetle pird vos habby
Like von leetle pird could be
A hunter mit a gun
Py dot tree did lay,
He shoot his awful gun,
And dot pird—he fly avay!
“Good for Hans!” cried Dick, and there was a general laugh. Then the gathering in the library broke up and all the cadets went outside to see how the snow looked. Before long there was enough on the ground to make snowballs, and then a battle royal all around ensued. So long as they took care not to break any windows, Captain Putnam did not mind this, and from his office the master of the Hall and George Strong watched the sport.
“Makes one feel young again,” remarked the captain to his first assistant.
“I’d half like to go out myself,” answered George Strong.
“I remember one year we had a great snowball fight at West Point,” went on the captain. “It was carried out in regular army fashion and lasted half a day. Our side was victorious, but we had to fight desperately to win. I was struck in the chin and the ear, and three of the cadets were knocked unconscious. But it was good practice, for it showed us something of what a hand-to-hand struggle meant.”
The snow came down all that day and night, and by the following morning covered the ground to the depth of about a foot. It was somewhat moist and first-class for the making of snow men and snowballs.
“Let’s make a statue of Captain Putnam,” said Fred, and this was done,
the statue being nearly ten feet high. It must be confessed it was not a very good likeness, but it looked remarkably fierce with some straws for a moustache, a flat wooden stick for a sword, and an old army cap on the top of the head. When he saw it, Captain Putnam laughed as heartily as anybody. Old as he was getting, he never allowed himself to forget the time when he was a boy.
Some distance from the Hall was a fair-sized hill and this was used by the cadets for coasting. As soon as school was over that day the lads brought out their sleds and bobs, and soon the hill was filled with boys, their merry laughter ringing far and wide. The Rovers had a big bob and this was used by the three and also by several of their friends.
“I’ll race you!” shouted Dick, who was in charge of the bob. He addressed another student named Peter Slade. Slade had a big bob and had been boasting that this could beat any other bob on the hill.
“All right,” answered Slade. He was a lanky youth, rather lazy, and given to much boasting.
It was soon arranged that each bob should carry six boys, and Fred, Hans and Songbird went with the Rovers. The two bobs lined up side by side, and Larry Colby gave the word to go.
“We’re off!” shouted Tom, giving a shove, and leaping on behind.
At first the two bobs kept side by side. The slide was in fine condition, and all the other cadets lined up on either side to watch the outcome of the race.
“Hurrah for the Rovers!”
“Hurrah for Peter Slade!”
“May the best bob win!” cried one student, enthusiastically.
“Here’s luck to you, Tom!” shouted George Granbury, and threw a snowball that caught Tom in the neck.
“Thanks!” shouted Tom, shaking his fist. “I’ll pay that back with interest when I get the chance.”
Half of the course was soon covered and still the bobs kept side by side. But then the Rovers’ bob began to drag behind.
“Hurrah, we are going to win!” cried one of the boys on the other bob.
“Said I could beat you!” yelled Peter Slade to Dick.
“The race isn’t ended yet,” flung back the eldest Rover boy.
On and on went the two bobs, and gradually that belonging to Peter Slade drew a full length ahead. Dick glanced back anxiously.
“Something seems to be catching under the runners,” he said, “Look and see if everything is clear.”
The boys behind looked, and then of a sudden Songbird let out a cry.
“It is Hans’ tippet! Hans, go and put that tippet end around your neck and don’t let it drag under the bob!”
The German youth was wearing an old-fashion tippet around his neck, the loose ends flying behind. One end had gotten under the bob runners and was scratching along in the snow.
“Vell I neffer!” cried Hans, and pulled on the tippet so vigorously that the long bob began to switch around sideways.
“Look out there!” sang out Sam. “Don’t throw us off!”
“Wait, I’ll loosen the tippet,” came from Songbird, and guided the muffler free of the bob. Then Hans took up the ends and tied them around his waist.
The drag had caused the Rovers’ bob to get two lengths behind the other, and Peter Slade and his companions felt certain of winning.
“You can’t touch us, Dick Rover!” called Slade, triumphantly.
“Good-bye!” called another boy. “We’ll tell those at the bottom of the hill that you are coming.”
“Are we making better time?” questioned Tom, anxiously. “If we are not I’ll get off and shove,” he added, jokingly.
“You hold tight now!” yelled Dick, and an instant later the bob went down over a ridge of the hill. Free of the drag, it shot forth like an arrow from a bow, and soon began to crawl up to Peter Slade’s turnout.
“The Rovers are crawling up!”
“Yes, but it’s too late to win!”
“We’ve got to win!” called out Sam.
And then both bobs took another ridge and rushed on to the end of the course, less than a hundred yards away.
CHAPTER XXII
PELEG SNUGGERS’ QUEER RIDE
The race had now reached its critical point and all of the cadets on the hill waited for the outcome with keen interest. The bob owned by Peter Slade was still two lengths in advance, and it looked very much as if Peter would be the victor.
But with the passing of the last ridge the Rovers’ bob seemed to become endowed with new life. With no drag on the runners, it shot forward with a speed that surprised even Dick. Steadily it gained on the other bob, until, when the end of the course was but fifty yards away, the two were almost side by side.
“Let her out, Pete!” cried one of the boys on Slade’s bob, but Peter could do no more.
“It’s a tie race!” called several, but hardly had the words been spoken when the Rovers’ bob shot ahead, and reached the end of the course a winner by twenty-five feet.
“Hurrah! the Rovers win!”
“I tell you what, you can’t get ahead of Dick Rover and his crowd!”
Peter Slade was much chagrinned to have the victory snatched from him, and began to mutter something about the race not being a fair one.
“I agree with you, it was not fair,” answered Sam. “Hans’ tippet caught under our runners and held us up a good deal.”
“If it hadn’t been for that we would have won by three times the distance,” added Tom.
“Humph!” muttered Peter Slade. “I guess you jumped off once and pushed.”
“I did not,” answered Tom, hotly.
“I think you did.”
“And I say I didn’t,” and now Tom doubled up his fists.
“Oh, don’t quarrel,” put in Larry, who was near. “If Peter isn’t satisfied why not race over again?”
“I am willing,” answered Dick, promptly.
“I’m tired of riding,” said Slade. “I—er—I am not feeling extra well and it shakes me up too much.”
“Then let some of the others use the bob.”
“No, it needs overhauling, and I am going to have it fixed up,” was Slade’s answer, and began to move off toward the Hall, dragging his bob after him.
“He’s afraid to race,” said George. “My! how mad it makes some fellows to get beaten!”
It may be mentioned here that Peter Slade had been one of Tad Sobber’s cronies, and now that Sobber was gone he took it on his shoulders to fill the bully’s place in the particular set to which he belonged. He was a quick-tempered youth, and had been in more than one fight since his arrival at Putnam Hall.
The boys who could not ride on the hill amused themselves by making some big snowballs, which they allowed to roll down another hill. One of the snowballs made was fully eight feet in diameter, and it was a great sight to see this go down, getting bigger and bigger as it progressed.
“Hello, I’ve got an idea!” cried Tom, as he watched the rolling of the big snowballs.
“Something brand new, Tom?” queried Larry.
“I think so. Let us give Peleg Snuggers a roll. It will do him good—shake up his liver, and all that.”
“You mean to roll him down this hill?” asked a student named Morley.
“That’s it.”
“Might hurt him.”
“Not if we put a snow overcoat on him first,” answered Tom.
“What do you mean?” asked another student.
“Let us roll a big ball the shape of an egg and hollow out the middle. Then by some trick we can get Peleg to crawl inside, and—”
“That’s the thing!” cried George Garrison. “Come on. Where is Peleg?”
“Down at the stables.”
With eager hands the cadets set to work and rolled up a big ball in the shape of an egg and then dug out the middle with a shovel. In the meantime a message was sent to the gen
eral utility man that he was wanted at the top of the hill at once.
“Must want me to mend a sled,” he mused, and hurried off, taking with him some tools, nails and cord. He often did favors for the cadets, who gave him “tips” in return.
When Peleg Snuggers arrived at the top of the hill the big snowball was ready for use.
“Here is Peleg!” cried Tom. “He can do the trick for us. Can’t you, Peleg?”
“What is that, Tom?” asked the general utility man, innocently.
“We want to fasten this cord in the hole through that big snowball, but we don’t want to get it crossed,” went on Tom, anxiously. “Will you take the cord, crawl in there and then pass the end out and over the end of this shovel, and then loop it over to the other end?”
“Why—er—I don’t understand,” stammered Peleg Snuggers.
“I’ll explain after you are inside the ball,” said Tom. “Here’s the cord,” and he led the general utility man to the hole and helped him to get down.
Not suspecting a trick, Snuggers crawled into the big snowball. Before he could do anything with the cord given to him the cadets rushed forward and gave the snowball a push toward the edge of the hill.
“Hi! stop that!” roared the general utility man, trying to back out.
“Hold tight—the snowball is getting away from us!” yelled Tom. “Somebody keep it from going down the hill!”
“We can’t hold it back!” screamed Larry, grinning at the same time.
“It’s bound to go—too bad!” wailed another.
“Say, let me git out!” yelled Peleg Snuggers, but at that moment the snowball began to turn over. “I’ll be killed! Oh, dear, I think you did this a-purpose, you rascals!”
“Never!” came back promptly.
“Enjoy the ride while you have the chance, Peleg!”
“You’ve got a free ticket to the bottom of the hill!”
“Let me out! Stop her!” yelled Snuggers, and they saw his feet at one end of the big snowball and his hands at the other. “I can’t stand rollin’, nohow!”
“You’re not standing,” called Sam. “You are just rolling.”
Away went the big snowball, down the long hill, and the cadets after it. As it progressed it grew larger and larger. They saw Peleg Snuggers shove out his head from one end, and the head went around and around like a top.
The Rover Boys Megapack Page 179
