The Rover Boys Under Canvas Or The Mystery of the Wrecked Submarine Part 1

The Rover Boys Under Canvas.

by Arthur M. Winfield.

INTRODUCTION

MY DEAR BOYS: This book is a complete story in itself, but forms the third volume in a line issued under the general t.i.tle, "The Second Rover Boys Series for Young Americans."

As mentioned in a number of volumes of the first series, this line was started some years ago with the publication of "The Rover Boys at School," "On the Ocean," and "In the Jungle," in which I introduced my young readers to d.i.c.k, Tom, and Sam Rover. The volumes of the first series related the doings of these three Rover boys while attending Putnam Hall Military Academy, Brill College, and while on numerous outings.

Having acquired a good education, the three young men established themselves in business and became married. Presently d.i.c.k Rover was blessed with a son and a daughter, as was also his brother Sam, while Tom Rover became the proud father of twin boys. At first the four lads were kept at home, but then it was thought best to send them to a boarding school, and in the first volume of the second series, ent.i.tled "The Rover Boys at Colby Hall," I related what happened to them while attending this inst.i.tution.

From Colby Hall the scene was s.h.i.+fted to Snowshoe Island, where the lads went for a mid-winter outing. Here they ran into a most unusual mystery, and helped an old lumberman to establish his claim to the island.

In the present volume the boys are back at Colby Hall, but it is time for the annual encampment of the military school, and soon they depart for a brief season "Under Canvas." This is at the time of the World War, and the lads get mixed up in the mystery surrounding a wrecked submarine. What this led to, I leave for the pages which follow to relate.

In conclusion I wish to thank my numerous readers for all the nice things they have said about my books. I trust the reading of the volumes will do all of them good.

Affectionately and sincerely yours, EDWARD STRATEMEYER.

CHAPTER I

A GAME OF BASEBALL

"Now for a home run, Jack!"

"Soak it out over the bleachers!"

"Show the Hixley boys what we can do!"

"Give him a swift one, d.i.n.k! Don't let him hit it!"

"Oh, dear, I do hope Jack scores!" came in a sweet, girlish voice.

"Of course he'll score!" returned a youth sitting near the girl who had made the remark. "He's been holding back for just this chance."

"Oh, do you think so?" asked another girl in the grandstand.

"Surest thing ever was," was the airy rejoinder. "This is the time we're going to show the Hixley boys what's what."

"Not on your life!" bellowed a heavy voice from the rear. "Here is where Colby Hall gets snowed under."

Then came a series of yells, followed by the tooting of horns and the sounding of rattles, making a din that was almost ear-splitting.

The occasion was the annual baseball game between Hixley High and Colby Hall. It had been scheduled to take place on the high-school athletic field, but at almost the last minute this field had been declared out of condition, and it had been decided to hold the contest on the athletic grounds attached to the military academy.

Hixley High was very anxious to win this game. During the previous fall, as related in a former volume of this series, the high-school lads had lost the annual football game with Colby Hall by a single touchdown. This defeat still rankled in their minds, and they were determined if possible to take the baseball game by a score that should be well worth while.

And they had good reason to be hopeful of doing this. While their football team had always been considered by the other teams of that locality to be of the "second string variety," the baseball nine was a remarkably strong organization. At its head was d.i.n.k Wilsey, a pitcher who was destined at some time in the future to show himself in one of the big leagues.

"Why, d.i.n.k alone can walk off with that game," was the way more than one Hixley High student had expressed himself.

But more than this--Hixley High had an exceptionally good first baseman and a trio of outfielders whose batting average was high.

"We're going to put it all over Colby Hall this trip," was the way the manager of the Hixley High ball club declared himself on the day previous to the match.

The game was now at the second half of the sixth inning, and the score stood, Hixley High, 4; Colby Hall, 2. Colby Hall was at the bat with two men out and one man at second.

It was therefore no wonder that the military academy students became anxious when Jack Rover took up his bat and walked to the plate. A home run would mean the tying of the score, and with a chance to do even better.

"Take your time, Jack," said Gif Garrison, who was the manager of the nine. "Make him give you a ball just where you want it."

"Watch yourself!" yelled one of the coaches to the runner at second, for the Hixley High pitcher had suddenly whirled around, sending the ball down to the second baseman. There was a quick drop by the runner, and he escaped getting caught by a few inches only.

"Close shave! Watch yourself, Dan!" yelled Gif Garrison; and Dan Soppinger, at second, nodded to show that he understood, and then danced away in the direction of third base as before.

The first ball pitched to Jack Rover was a slow in-curve, and he stepped back and allowed it to pa.s.s him.

"Ball one!"

At this decision a howl of delight went up from the followers of Colby Hall, while a corresponding groan came from Hixley High.

"That's the eye!"

"Better get a pair of gla.s.ses!"

"Sure! The umpire must be blind! That was a perfect ball!"

"Sure it was a perfect ball! That's the reason he called it a ball!"

came from Andy Rover, who sat on the subst.i.tutes' bench.

The second ball delivered was a fairly good one, although rather low.

Jack swung at it, and high into the air spun the sphere, well back of the catcher's head.

"Foul!"

"Run, Billy, you can catch it!"

Flinging off his mask, the Hixley High catcher rushed back toward where the ball was coming down. But it was too far away for him, and it struck slantingly on one of the back posts, rolling off toward the grandstand.

"Line it out, Jack! Don't be fooling with fouls!" yelled Fred Rover.

"Show 'em where the river is!" added Randy Rover.