Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail. Young Clarence
on the other.
“I say, you new kid, what’s your name?” asked the bully.
“Yes, speak up, and don’t mumble,” added Pud.
“My name is Williams,” replied the new lad. “I wish you would let me go.”
“Can’t just yet, sonny,” said Glen. “We are just making your acquaintance,” and he punched Will in the stomach, making him double up.
“Hold on, there,” cried Snaith. “I didn’t ask you to make a bow. Wait until you’re told,” and he shoved the lad’s head back.
“Now you stop that!” exclaimed Will with considerable spirit.
“What’s that! Hark to him talking back to us!” exclaimed Pud. “Now you’ll have to bow again,” and once more he punched the new boy.
“Please let me alone!” cried Will. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“No, but you might,” spoke Snaith. “Have you been hazed yet?”
“Of course he hasn’t,” added Glen. “He came in late, and he hasn’t been initiated. I guess it’s time to do it.”
“Sure it is,” agreed the bully with a grin. “Let’s see – we’ll give him the water cure.”
“That’s it! Toss him in the lake and watch him swim out!” added Pud. “Come on, Glen, catch hold!”
“Oh, no! Please don’t!” begged Will.
“Aw, dry up! What you howling about?” asked Pud. “Every new boy has to be hazed, and you’re getting off easy. A bath will do you good. Let’s take him down to the float. It’s real deep there.”
“Oh, no! No! Please don’t! Anything but that!” begged Will. “I – I can’t swim.”
“Then it’s time you learned,” said Snaith with a brutal laugh. “Catch hold of his other leg, Pud.”
They quickly made a grab for the unfortunate lad, and, despite his struggles, carried him toward the lake. It was not an uncommon form of hazing, but it was usually done when a crowd was present, and the hazing committee always took care to find out that the candidates could swim. In addition, there were always lads ready to go to the rescue in case of accident. But this was entirely different.
“Oh, don’t! Please don’t!” begged Will. “I – I don’t want to go in the water. Do anything but that.”
“Listen to him cry!” mocked Glen. “Hasn’t he got a sweet voice?”
Nearer to the lake approached the three bullies and their victim, who was struggling to escape. He was pleading piteously.
“I can’t stand this,” murmured Jack. “Williams is afraid of water. He told me so. It’s probably a nervous dread, and if they throw him in he may go into a spasm and drown. They should do something else if they want to haze him.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Nat. He and his chum were hidden from the others by a clump of trees.
“I’m going to make Snaith stop!” said Jack determinedly as he strode forward with flashing eyes. “You wait here, Nat.”
CHAPTER V
A GERMAN-FRENCH ALLIANCE
“Oh, fellows, please let go! Don’t throw me in the lake! I – I can’t swim!”
It was Will’s final appeal.
“Well, it’s time you learned,” exclaimed Snaith with a laugh. “Come on now, boys, take it on the run!”
But at that moment Jack Ranger fairly leaped from behind the clump of trees where he and Nat Anderson stood, and running after the three mean lads who were carrying the struggling Will, our hero planted himself in front of them.
“Here – drop him!” he cried, barring their way.
Surprise at Jack’s sudden appearance, no less than at his words and bearing, brought the hazers to a stop.
“What – what’s that you said?” asked Snaith, as if disbelieving the evidence of his ears.
“I said to drop this, and let Williams go.”
“What for?” demanded Pud.
“For several reasons. He can’t swim, and he has a nervous dread of the water, as I happen to know. Besides, it’s too chilly to throw any one in the lake now.”
“Are those all your reasons?” asked Snaith with a sneer.
“No!” cried Jack. “If you want another, it’s because I tell you to stop!”
“S’posing we don’t?”
“Then I’ll make you.”
“Oh, you will, eh? Well, I guess we three can take care of you, all right, even if you are Jack Ranger.”
Snaith had a tight hold on Will’s arm. The timid lad had been set down by his captors, but they still had hold of him.
“Please let me go,” pleaded Williams.
“We will – after you’ve had your dip in the lake,” said Glen.
“Yes, come on,” added Snaith. “Get out of the way, Ranger, if you don’t want to get bumped.”
“You let Williams go!” demanded Jack, still barring the way.
“We’ll not! Stand aside or I’ll hit you!” snapped Snaith.
He and his cronies again picked Williams up, and were advancing with him toward the lake. Snaith had one hand free, and as he approached Jack, who had not moved, the bully struck out at him. The blow landed lightly on Jack’s chest, but the next instant his fist shot out, catching Snaith under the ear, and the bully suddenly toppled over backward, measuring his length on the ground.
He was up again in a second, however, and spluttered out:
“Wha – what do you mean? I’ll fix you for this! I’ll make you pay for that, Jack Ranger!”
“Whenever you like,” replied Jack coolly, as he stood waiting the attack.
“Come on, fellows, let’s do him up!” cried Pud. “We’re three to one, and I owe him something on my own account.”
“Shall we let the freshman go?” asked Glen.
“Sure!” exclaimed Snaith. “We can catch him again. We’ll do up Ranger now!”
The bully and his cronies advanced toward Jack. Will, hardly understanding that he was released, stood still, though Jack called to him:
“Better run, youngster. I can look out for myself.”
“Oh, you can, eh?” sneered Snaith. “Well, I guess you’ll have your hands full. Come on, now, fellows! Give it to him!”
The three advanced with the intention of administering a sound drubbing to our hero, and it is more than likely that they would have succeeded, for Jack could not tackle three at once very well. But something happened.
This “something” was a lad who came bounding up from the rear, with a roar like a small, maddened bull, and then with a cry Nat Anderson flung himself on the back of Pud Armstrong.
“Flabgastered punching-bags!” he cried. “Three to one, eh? Well, I guess not! Acrimonious Abercrombie! But I’ll take a hand in this game!”
“Here! Quit that! Let me go! Stop! That’s no way to fight! Get off my back!” yelled the startled Pud.
“I’m not fighting yet,” said Nat coolly, as he skillfully locked his legs in those of Pud and sent him to the ground with a wrestler’s trick. “I’m only getting ready to wallop you!”
Snaith, who had rushed at Jack with raised fists, was met by another left-hander that again sent him to the ground. And then, to the surprise of the rescuers, no less than that of the would-be