The Rushton Boys at Rally Hall Part 16

He was game, however, and not being able to swallow the pie, swallowed his resentment, making a mental vow to get even, if he should ever discover the culprit.

A half an hour for rest and recreation followed the supper. Then the bell rang for a study period of two hours. At the end of this time work was over for the day, and the boys sought their dormitories to do as they chose till bedtime. All lights were to be out by ten o'clock.

The boys came into Number Three with a clatter and a bang. When they were all there, Melvin lifted his hand to hush the racket.

"Hi, there, you fellows," he shouted. "Keep still for a minute. I want to say something."

The tumult subsided, as the boys came crowding around him.

"Gentlemen," he said, with mock dignity--"I know I flatter you, but no matter--I want to introduce you to two new roommates, Fred and Teddy Rushton."

CHAPTER XVI

A JOLLY CROWD

There was a general bow and smile on the part of all, as the boys acknowledged the introduction, and then Melvin became more personal:

"You have here before you," he said to the Rushton boys, a.s.suming the air and tone of a "barker" at a seaside show, "the most gorgeous collection of freaks ever gathered under one tent. Positively, gentlemen, an unparalleled aggregation of the most astonis.h.i.+ng wonders of nature now in captivity, a.s.sembled by the management without regard to expense from all quarters of the civilized and uncivilized world. So remarkable, gentlemen, are these specimens of the animal world that they have even been taught to walk, talk and eat like human beings. Some have even gone so far as to say that they _are_ human, although this opinion is not maintained by those who know them best.

"And what do I charge you, gentlemen, for gazing at this mammoth collection of monsters and missing links? Do I charge you a half a dollar? I do not. Do I even ask you for a quarter? I do not. Do I even set you back to the extent of a dime? I do not. Do I even extract from your vest pocket the humble jitney? No, gentlemen, a thousand times, no!

"This amazing show is free, gentlemen, absolutely free, free as the air, free as the suns.h.i.+ne, free as good advice, free as----"

He ducked, just as a pillow flew past his head.

"Jo-Jo, the dog-faced boy, did that," he explained; "whenever he hears me say 'free' he thinks it means that he's to be free with me. But I don't mind, because he never hits anything."

There was a general laugh, and Granger abandoned his showman's att.i.tude.

"This is Billy Burton, the sweet singer of the Wabash," he said, indicating a stocky youth with a shock of red hair. "We call him the Indiana Nightingale, because he's so different. You ought to hear him sing 'We Give the Baby Garlic, So that We Can Find Him in the Dark!' The sentiment's so strong, it brings tears to your eyes."

"You're pretty good at music yourself, Mel," retorted Billy.

"I?" said Melvin in surprise. "Why I don't know one note from another. I don't think I could play a jewsharp or a hand-organ. What kind of music am I good at?"

"Chin music," replied Billy.

Melvin was fairly caught, and the boys howled.

"You got me that time, Billy," Melvin cried. "But, talking of music, here's the real goods in that line," and he laid his hand on the shoulder of an olive-skinned Italian boy, with delicate features and large dark eyes.

"This is Tony Dirocco," he went on; "Tony's a count or some other high muckamuck in his own country, and he's studying here while his father is at Was.h.i.+ngton on some diplomatic business or other. But Tony doesn't care half as much about books as he does about music. Say, when he gets hold of a violin he fairly makes it talk. Real high brow stuff, you know, operas and things like that, the kind that goes right up and down your spine and takes your heart out by the roots. Just wait until he gives us one of his concerts all by himself."

Tony shook hands with a shy smile, and the boys made up their minds that they were going to like him immensely.

"Now for our Spanish athlete," said Granger, "the man who 'throws the bull.' This is Slim Haley," and he nodded toward a fat chubby fellow who must have weighed close to two hundred pounds. His broad face was wreathed with smiles, and his eyes twinkled with fun, as he came forward.

"This puny infant," went on Melvin, "can tell the most wonderful stories you ever heard, and tell them with such an innocent air that sometimes you almost believe him. He's got Baron Munchausen skinned a mile. He was telling me one to-day about a rabbit, and I sat watching him, expecting every minute to see him choke."

"Oh, come off, Mel," laughed "Slim." "You see," he said, turning to the boys, "the trouble with Mel is that he hasn't imagination enough to understand anything he hasn't seen himself. Now that story of the rabbit----"

"Let's hear it, and judge for ourselves," suggested Fred.

"Why, it was like this," said Slim. "It was out in the Western League, and they were having a close game of ball. It was in the ninth inning, with two men out and one run needed to win.

"The man at the bat, one of the best sluggers on the team, soaked the ball good and plenty on a line to centre field. It hit a rabbit, who was browsing near the centre field fence. Of course it scared him, and he came streaking in and reached second base just before the batter.

"Down the line went the rabbit toward third, with the batter legging it right after him. The rabbit touched third and then, frightened at the crowd in the bleachers just behind third, it turned around and scooted for the home plate. It crossed the plate with the batter right at its heels, just as the ball was thrown in. But although the batter touched the plate just before the ball got there, the umpire called him out."

"I don't see why," interrupted Teddy.

"Of course there was a big kick about it," said Slim smoothly, "but the decision went, just the same. The umpire said the rabbit paced the runner and made him run faster than he otherwise would, and so he got to the plate before the ball."

There was a dead silence, while the boys watched Slim, as though they expected the fate of Ananias to overtake him.

Fred coughed significantly.

"You see," said Slim mournfully, to Granger, "he doesn't believe it either. You've poisoned his mind against me. You've taken away my reputation. Why, if you don't believe it," he went on, in pretended indignation, "I can take you out there and show you the very grounds where the thing happened! I can show you the very base that the rabbit touched! I can show you the bleachers where the crowd sat that frightened the rabbit! If the rabbit's alive still, perhaps I can show you the rabbit! If----"

"That'll do," said Melvin solemnly. "The court finds you guilty, and condemns you to twenty years of truth-telling."

"That's a cruel and unusual punishment," put in Billy Burton, "and the Const.i.tution forbids that kind."

"I'm only making the punishment fit the crime," answered Melvin. "I'm ashamed of you, Slim. Now you go way back and sit down, while I introduce the rest of these infants."

The remaining "infants," so disrespectfully alluded to, were duly made known to the boys in a similar jovial way. There was Ned Wayland, who was introduced as the heaviest batter on the baseball team, and Tom Eldridge, who had kicked the deciding goal in their last game of football with a rival school.

Finally, there were Lester Lee and Bill Garwood, of whom Melvin had less to say, because they had just come, and he knew them hardly better than he did the Rushton boys themselves.

But Fred and Teddy felt from the start that there was something in these newcomers that attracted them strongly.

Bill Garwood, they found, was a quiet, reserved youth, who gave one the impression of latent force. His eyes that looked straight into theirs were clear and frank, and there were the tiny wrinkles beneath them that come from looking off into far s.p.a.ces. On the ranch at Snake River from which he came, he had lived far from neighbors, and he seemed a little shy and awkward amid the abounding life at the Hall. But, underneath his quiet exterior, one felt that he had sterling qualities and in case of trouble would be a good friend to have at one's back.

Lester Lee impressed them with equal favor. He was tall and lean, and his face was as bronzed as a sailor's. This did not surprise the boys when they learned that he had lived in the lighthouse at Bartanet Shoals on the coast of Maine. He was jolly and full of fun, and had a magnetic way with him that put him on cordial terms with the boys at once.

When at last they were undressing, seated on their adjoining beds, Fred turned to Teddy, who had just given a low chuckle.

"What's the joke?" he asked.

"I was thinking that the joke was on Uncle Aaron," replied Teddy.

"How's that?"

"Why, he thought he was punis.h.i.+ng us by having us sent here," answered Teddy, "and I'll just bet that we're going to have the best time of our lives."