Bobby Blake on the School Nine: or, The Champions of the Monatook Lake League. Warner Frank A.
never enjoyed a meal so much,” said Pee Wee.
“Well, you’re certainly a judge,” laughed Fred. “When you say a meal’s the limit you know what you’re talking about. And this time I agree with you.”
“I’m glad you liked things,” put in Mrs. Wilson. “It does me good to see the way you boys eat.”
“I’m afraid you wouldn’t make much money if you had us as steady boarders,” smiled Bobby.
“Come right back to the living room and get yourselves warm as toast before you start out again in this wind,” urged their hostess.
“We’d like to ever so much,” replied Bobby. “But I guess we’d better be getting along. Perhaps that snow plough will get down sooner than we thought, and everything’s been so good here that I’m afraid perhaps we’ve stayed too long already.”
They wrapped themselves up warmly, and then Bobby as spokesman turned to their hostess.
“How much do we owe you?” he asked, taking out his pocketbook, while the others prepared to do the same.
“You don’t owe me a cent!” declared Mrs. Wilson with emphasis.
“Oh, but yes,” rejoined Bobby, somewhat startled. “We couldn’t think of letting you go to all that trouble and expense without paying for it.”
“I won’t take a penny, bless your hearts,” Mrs. Wilson repeated. “It’s been a real joy to have you here. I haven’t any children of my own, and the old place gets a bit lonesome at times. I haven’t had such a good time for years as I’ve had this morning, seeing you eat so hearty and listening to your fun. I feel that I owe you a good deal more than you do me.”
She was firm in her determination, although the boys pressed the matter as far as they could without offending her. So they were forced at last to yield to her wishes and return the money to their pockets.
It was with the warmest thanks that they left their kind-hearted hostess and went down the steps, Tiger accompanying them to the gate. He seemed to want to go further and whined softly when Mouser patted him good-bye.
“Isn’t she a prince?” said Pee Wee admiringly, as they waved their hands in farewell.
“A princess you mean,” corrected Mouser.
“Have it your own way,” retorted Pee Wee. “Whichever name’s the best, she’s that.”
They were in a high state of elation as they ploughed their way across the snowy fields. They were blissfully conscious of being, as Mouser put it, “full to the chin,” and little else was needed at their age to make their happiness complete.
But they were sharply awakened by the sound of a whistle.
“That must be our train,” cried Fred in alarm.
“That’s what it is,” assented Bobby, quickening his pace. “We stayed a long time at the table, and the snow-plough must have come along sooner than they thought it would. Hurry, fellows, hurry!” and he tried to break into a run.
The others followed his example, but the snow was too deep for that. It clung about their feet and legs until they felt that they were moving in a nightmare.
“She’s going, fellows!” shouted Mouser in despair, as a stream of smoke began to stretch out behind the moving train.
“And all our bags and things are on board!” wailed Fred.
“Now we’re in a pretty mess,” gasped Pee Wee, slumping down in the snow.
There was no use in hurrying now, and they looked blankly at each other as they came to a full stop.
“Scubbity-yow!” howled Fred as the only way to relieve his feelings.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed Mouser.
Pee Wee was too tired out from his exertion to say anything, and Bobby, too, kept silent, though for a different reason. He was busy thinking of the best way to get out of the tangle.
“There’s no use in worrying about our baggage, fellows,” he said at last. “Probably the conductor will take good care of that. And we may be able to send a telegram from some place telling the conductor to put our things off at Rockledge and leave them in care of the station agent there. What we’ve got to worry about is ourselves. We can’t stay here, and we’ve got to find some way to get another train as soon as we can. Have any of you fellows got a time table?”
“I had one,” replied Mouser, “but it’s in my bag on the train.”
None of the others had one and Bobby came to a quick decision.
“There’s no other way,” he announced. “We’ll have to go back and ask Mrs. Wilson. She’ll know all about the trains and what’s the best station for us to go to.”
They trudged back rather forlornly and explained their plight to Mrs. Wilson, who was full of sympathy.
“I’d like to have you stay here all night,” she volunteered, “and Mr. Wilson will take you over to the station in a rig to-morrow morning.”
They thanked her heartily, but explained that this was out of the question. They would be missed from the train, telegrams would be flying back and forth and their parents would be anxious and excited. They must get to some place where they could either telegraph or, better yet, get a train that would land them in Rockledge that afternoon or evening.
“I’ll tell you what to do,” she suggested, as a thought struck her. “You can’t get a train on this line you’ve been traveling on until very late to-night. But there’s another road that crosses this at a junction about two miles from here and connects with the main line that goes on to Rockledge. There’s an afternoon train on that line that you’ll have plenty of time to make, and it will land you in Rockledge before night. There’s a telegraph office there too, and you can send any messages you like before you board the train.”
“That’s just the very thing,” cried Bobby with enthusiasm.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” chuckled Mouser.
She gave them very careful directions for finding the station, and as there was none too much time and the walking was bound to be slow they set out at once, after thanking their friend for having come a second time to their relief.
Their path led for the most part through a wood and they passed no other houses on their way. Even in summer it was evident that the locality was wild and deserted. Now with the snow over everything it was especially desolate.
“You might almost think you were up in the Big Woods,” commented Mouser.
“That’s what,” agreed Fred. “It would be a dandy place for train robbers and that kind of fellows.”
“I’d hate to be wandering around here at night,” remarked Pee Wee, who was panting with the exertion of keeping up with the others.
“It would give one a sort of creepy feeling, like being in a cemetery,” assented Bobby.
Suddenly Fred uttered an exclamation.
“There’s a little house right over in that hollow,” he cried, pointing to the right.
“More like a hut or a shack than a regular house, seems to me,” grunted Mouser.
“I don’t believe there’s any one living there,” commented Pee Wee.
“Yes, there must be,” declared Bobby. “I can see the light of a fire shining through the window.”
The hut in question was a dilapidated structure of only one story that stood in a little hollow just off the road. It was in the last stages of decay and looked as though a strong wind would blow it to pieces. There were no fences nor barn nor any wagon or farm implement in sight.
Yet that some one lived in the crazy shack was evident, as Bobby had said, by the red light that came flickeringly through the only window that the cabin possessed.
“Let’s