Bobby Blake on a Plantation: or, Lost in the Great Swamp. Warner Frank A.
won’t!” snapped Snath furiously, though there was a perceptible wobbly movement of his knees. “Who do you think you are anyway, Bobby Blake? You just quit butting in and let me tend to my own affairs. You needn’t think you’re running this school.”
“Take your foot off that cap,” repeated Bobby, not raising his voice a particle, but moving a step forward so that he was within easy reach.
The rest of the boys crowded about the two, all agog with expectation of a “scrap.” There was not one of them but cordially detested the bully, and many of them had been the victims of his petty torments. They were eager to see him get the thrashing he richly deserved, and that they felt Bobby was fully able to give him.
But Snath was one of those who believed that discretion was the better part of valor. He hated to give in, with all the boys looking at him, but he hated still worse the idea of coming to blows with Bobby, although he was much the larger of the two. His eyes fell on Bobby’s fists which were slowly clenching, and then with a growl he stepped back off the cap. He could not resist, however, the temptation to give the head covering a vicious kick.
“Take your old cap,” he snarled. “As for you, Bobby Blake, I’ll get even with you for this when you haven’t got your crowd with you.”
“Make him pick it up, Bobby!” shouted Fred, who was disappointed at not seeing the bully get his just deserts.
But Lee had already picked up the cap and put it on his head, while he flashed a look of gratitude at his champion.
Snath shambled away with a last malignant look at Bobby that was full of threats of vengeance in the future.
“It’s too bad you didn’t have an excuse for trimming him, Bobby,” sighed Sparrow, as the bully’s form vanished round a comer of the building. “He’s had a licking coming to him for a long time, and you’re the one who could have done him up to the queen’s taste.”
“I don’t want to fight,” replied Bobby. “I never want to if I can help it. You know the trouble that came from that mixup with Sandy Jackson. But there’s been too much of this bullying going on in the school and it’s just as well to let fellows like Snath know where they get off.”
“He’s got it in for you,” declared Skeets. “Did you see that look he gave you when he went away? I’ll bet he’s figuring out right now some dirty trick to play on you.”
“Let him figure,” laughed Bobby. “I should worry a lot and build a house on it. But what do you say, fellows, to kicking the football around a little? I’m a little sore from yesterday, and it will help get some of the kinks out of my bones. Besides it will help us get up an appetite for lunch.”
All assented readily, except Pee Wee.
“I’ve got all the appetite I want already,” he said. “If I had any more I’d be starving to death. But you dubs go ahead and play, and I’ll lie down here and rest.”
“That’s the best thing you do,” chaffed Fred.
“Rest is Pee Wee’s middle name,” jibed Sparrow.
But the good-natured fat boy only smiled in a superior sort of way and made himself comfortable, while his comrades got the ball and put it in action. There were not enough of them to form two elevens and play a regular game, but they got up a couple of skeleton teams and were soon in the thick of some lively scrimmages.
The new boy, Lee Cartier, had been chosen by Bobby as one of his side, and although he was not familiar with the fine points of the game, he played with zest and spirit and showed that he had it in him to become a good player. What he lacked in weight and strength he made up in quickness, and he followed the ball in a way that called forth praise from Bobby.
“That was good work, Lee,” the latter said, after Lee had fallen like a flash on the ball that one of the opposing players had fumbled.
Lee’s face flushed with pleasure at the commendation.
“I’m afraid I’m a good deal of a dub at the game,” he answered. “If I could ever learn to play the way you did yesterday it would be something to talk about. I wish you would teach me the way the game ought to be played. Will you?”
“I’ve got lots to learn about it myself,” replied Bobby, “but what little I know you’re welcome to. There’ll probably be lots of days when we can practice before real cold weather comes.”
Just then a cry of alarm arose from Fred, as he happened to glance toward the lake.
“Look at that boat!” he shouted. “It looks as if it were sinking!”
All eyes were turned on a boat containing four boys, about a quarter of a mile from the shore. Two of the occupants were pulling desperately at the oars, but making scarcely any progress. The other inmates of the boat were waving their hands wildly and shouting at the tops of their voices, although what they were saying could not be distinguished at that distance.
Bobby gave one look and threw down the football.
“Come along, fellows!” he shouted, as he made for the boathouse at the top of his speed.
“They’re sinking and we’ve got to save them!”
CHAPTER II
JUST IN TIME
There was a wild shout as the other boys followed, and they were close on Bobby’s heels when he reached the boathouse.
There were several boats in the house, most of them laid up in canvas coverings, as the weather was becoming so cold that the lake offered no special attraction. One boat, however, and luckily the one nearest the doors, was available, and to this Bobby rushed.
“Lend a hand, some of you fellows!” he called. “Some one get two pairs of oars from the rack. Hurry now! We can’t waste a second.”
In a moment the oars were handed down and put in the boat and Bobby had thrown open the sliding doors.
Willing hands helped him to push the boat down the slanting way that led to the float.
“Four of us can go in this,” cried Bobby. “You, Fred, and you, Sparrow, and – ”
“Let me go,” begged Lee, whose eyes were burning with excitement. “I’ve had a good deal of practice in rowing and I can handle an oar as well as any one.”
“All right,” agreed Bobby. “Into the water now with the boat.”
The rowboat was shoved into the water and held to the float by Skeets and Shiner, while Bobby and his three mates tumbled in, grasped the oars and pulled off.
By this time it was plainly to be seen that the endangered boat was much lower in the water than it was when it had first been seen. The gunwales were almost flush with the level of the lake, and the two who had been rowing had abandoned the oars, as it was impossible to drag the heavily laden water-logged boat through the water. The occupants had thrown off their coats, and two of them were tugging away at their shoes, preparatory to the swim for life that seemed inevitable.
The boys who were left on the shore waved their hands frantically, shouting to the boys in the sinking boat not to jump, and pointing to the other boat that was coming to their assistance.
In the meantime, Bobby and his companions were bending to the oars lustily and putting all their strength into every stroke.
“Keep at it, fellows!” panted Bobby, while the perspiration rolled down his face. “Don’t stop to look behind. I’ll take a look once in a while just so as to keep the boat steering right. Pull with all your might!”
His comrades needed no urging, and the boat leaped through the water with a speed that rapidly cut down the space that still intervened between it and the sinking craft.
For sinking it was now beyond a doubt. The occupants had for the moment abandoned the design of springing overboard, and were baling frantically, using their caps and sweaters and hands in the effort to keep the doomed boat afloat until their rescuers could reach them.
“If