Bobby Blake on the School Nine: or, The Champions of the Monatook Lake League. Warner Frank A.
sheepish face. Betty, in swift penitence, flew to his side.
“Oh, Fred!” she wailed, “I hope I didn’t hurt you!”
To do Fred justice, he was game, and after the first moment of discomfiture he tried to smile, though the attempt was not much of a success.
“That’s all right, Betty,” he said. “You’re a better shot than I thought you were. Here’s your dime,” he added, taking the coin from his pocket.
“I don’t want it,” replied Betty. “I’m sorry I won it.”
But Fred insisted and she took it, although reluctantly.
“Too bad you didn’t make it a dollar, Fred,” joked Pee Wee.
“Couldn’t hit you in a thousand years, eh?” chuckled Scat.
“Oh, cut it out, you fellows,” protested Fred. “I didn’t dodge anyway, did I? You’ve got to give me credit for that.”
“That was pretty good work for short distance shooting,” remarked Bobby Blake, molding a snowball. “But now watch me hit that rock on the other side of the road.”
“Look out that you don’t hit that horse,” cautioned Betty.
But the snowball had already left Bobby’s hand. He had thought that it would easily clear the scraggy old horse that was jogging along drawing a sleigh. But the aim was too low, and the snowball hit the horse plump in the neck.
The startled brute reared and plunged, and the driver, a big hulky boy with pale eyes and a pasty complexion, had all he could do to quiet him.
He succeeded at last, and then, grasping his whip, jumped over the side of the sleigh and came running up to the boys, his face convulsed with rage.
CHAPTER II
A FRIEND INTERFERES
“Oh,” gasped Betty, “it’s Ap Plunkit!”
“Yes,” added Fred, “and he’s as mad as a hornet.”
Applethwaite Plunkit was the son of a farmer who lived a short distance out of town. He was older and larger than the rest of the boys gathered on the station platform, and they all disliked him thoroughly because of his mean and ugly disposition.
Bobby and Fred had had several squabbles with him when he had attempted to bully them, but their quarrels had never yet got to the point of an actual fight. But just now, as he strode up to them, it looked as though a fight were coming.
Bobby was a plucky boy, and though he never went around looking for trouble, he was always willing and able to take his own part when it became necessary. But Ap was a great deal bigger and heavier than he, and just now had the advantage of the whip. So that Bobby’s breath came a little faster as Ap came nearer. But he never thought of retreating, and faced the bully with an outward calm that he was very far from feeling.
“Which one of you fellows hit my horse?” demanded Ap, in a voice that trembled with rage.
“I did,” replied Bobby, stepping forward a little in advance of the group.
“What did you do it for?” cried Ap, at the same time raising his whip.
“I didn’t aim at the horse,” replied Bobby. “I was trying to hit a rock on the other side of the road.”
“I don’t believe it,” snarled the bully.
“I can’t help whether you believe it or not,” answered Bobby. “It’s the truth.”
“You needn’t think you’re going to crawl out of it that way,” Ap snapped back. “You hit my horse on purpose and now I’m going to hit you.”
He lifted his whip higher to make good his threat. Bobby’s fists clenched and his eyes glowed.
“Don’t you touch me with that whip, Ap Plunkit,” he warned, “or it will be the worse for you.”
“You bet it will!” cried Fred, rushing forward. “You touch Bobby and we’ll all pitch into you.”
“That’s what!” ejaculated Mouser.
“Sure thing,” added Pee Wee, who, though lazy and hard to rouse, was always loyal to his friends.
For a moment it seemed as though a general scrimmage could not be avoided, and the girls gave little frightened shrieks.
Ap hesitated.
“Four against one,” he muttered sarcastically. “You’re a plucky lot, you are.”
“Throw down that whip and any one of us will tackle you,” cried Fred hotly, his fiery temper getting the better of him.
But just then a diversion came from a new quarter.
A boy who was just about equal to Ap in age and weight, who had a lot of freckles, a snub nose, a jolly Irish face and a crop of red hair that rivaled Fred’s own, pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered.
“It’s Pat Moriarty,” cried Betty in relief.
“Hello, Bobby! Hello, Fred!” called out the newcomer cheerily. “What’s the rumpus here?”
“It’s this Ap Plunkit,” explained Bobby. “I hit his horse with a snowball by accident.”
“And the big coward’s brought his whip over to get even,” volunteered Fred.
“To git even is it,” said Pat, as his eyes fell on the bully, who was beginning to move backward. “Well, I’ll give him the chanst.”
He went over rapidly to Ap.
“Why don’t you tackle a feller of your size?” he asked scornfully. “Like me, fur instance?”
“You keep out of this,” muttered Ap uneasily.
“Keep out of it!” jeered Pat pugnaciously. “A Moriarty never keeps out of a scrap when he sees a big feller pickin’ on a little one.”
With a sudden movement he snatched Ap’s whip and threw it on the ground.
Resentment flared up in Ap’s eyes.
While the two antagonists stand glaring at each other, it may be well, for the benefit of those who have not followed the fortunes and adventures of Bobby Blake from the beginning, to give a brief outline of the preceding volumes in this series.
Bobby was the only child of his parents, who resided in the little inland town of Clinton. Although their hearts were bound up in their son, they had been sensible enough not to spoil him, and he had grown into a bright, manly boy, full of fun and frolic, and a general favorite among the boys of the town.
Fred Martin, whose family lived only a few doors away from the Blakes, was Bobby’s closest friend and companion. The boys were very different in temperament, and it was this very unlikeness, perhaps, which had made them chums. Fred had a hot temper which was constantly getting him into scrapes, and Bobby, who was much cooler and more self-controlled, was kept busy a good deal of the time in getting his friend out of trouble. They seldom had any differences between themselves and were almost constantly together.
Mr. Blake was once suddenly called to South America on business, and it was arranged that Mrs. Blake should go with him. What to do with Bobby during their absence gave them a good many anxious moments. They finally decided to send him to Rockledge School, of which they had heard excellent reports, and to Bobby’s great delight, Mr. Martin consented to let Fred go with him.
The school opened a new world for the boys. They had to study hard, but a lot of fun was mixed in with the work and they had many exciting adventures. They formed warm friendships, but there were two or three bullies in the school who tried to make their lives burdensome. How they finally defeated these petty tyrants and came out on top is told in the first volume of the series, entitled: “Bobby Blake at Rockledge School; or, Winning the Medal of Honor.”
The steamer on which Mr. Blake and his wife had sailed was lost at sea, and for a time it was feared that all on board had gone down with her. Bobby was heart-broken; so