For the Honor of Randall Part 2

The sled owned by Burton was a fine one, and larger even than that of our friends. There were back-rests for each coaster, and a gong as big as a dinner plate.

"See you later, Phil," called Ruth, as she and her girl friends, together with a throng of others, got aboard.

The big bob was pushed off, Tom and his chums watching with critical eyes. Burton seemed to know his business.

"Well, we might as well go down," remarked Frank, as he took his place.

There was a moment's wait, while their bob filled, the same three pretty girls taking their places. Then they were off, Sid ringing the bell vigorously.

Hardly had they started, however, almost in the wake of Burton's sled, than Frank gave a cry of alarm.

"What is it?" shouted Tom, getting ready to jam on the brake. "Steering wheel busted?"

"No, but look!" cried Frank. "That chump Burton is headed right for the hollow cut-off! He'll never make it at that speed, and there'll be a spill!"

For a moment there was a silence, broken only by the sc.r.a.ping of the runners on the hard snow. Then Frank yelled:

"Keep to the right! Keep to the right, Burton! You can't make that turn!"

But Burton either did not hear or did not heed. Straight for the perilous cut-off he steered, and then, as the girls saw their danger, they cried shrilly. But it was too late to turn aside now, and Tom and his chums, coming on like the wind behind the new bob, wondered what would happen, and if there was any way of preventing the accident that seemed almost sure to take place.

CHAPTER II

BAD NEWS FROM HOME

Years ago, it was the custom, for a certain style of stories, to begin something like this:

"Bang! Bang! Seven redskins bit the dust!"

Then, after the sensational opening, came a calm period wherein the author was privileged to do some explaining. I shall, with your permission, adopt that method now, with certain modifications, and tell my new readers something about Randall College, and the lads whom I propose to make my heroes. It is, perhaps, rather an inopportune time to do it, but I fear I will find none better, since Tom and his chums are so constantly on the alert, that it is hard to gain their attention for a moment, after they are once started.

And so, while the bob containing the girls, in whom our friends are so much interested, is swinging toward the dangerous hollow, and when Tom and the others are preparing to execute a risky manuvre to save them, may I be granted just a moment? My former readers may skip this part if they choose.

It was in the initial volume of this "College Sports Series," that I introduced Tom Parsons and his chums. The first book was called "The Rival Pitchers;" and in it I told how Tom, a raw country lad, came to Randall College with a big ambition as regards baseball, and how he made good in the box against long odds. In the second book, "A Quarter-back's Pluck," I told how Phil Clinton won the big champions.h.i.+p game under trying conditions, and in "Batting to Win," there were given the particulars of how Randall triumphed over her rivals, and how a curious mystery regarding Sid Henderson was solved.

"The Winning Touchdown," was another story of college football, and, incidentally the book tells how Tom and his chums saved the college from disaster in a peculiar way, and how Frank came to Randall and "made good." Frank had roomed elsewhere but was now with Tom, Sid and Phil.

Randall College was situated on the outskirts of the town of Haddonfield, in the middle west. Near it ran Sunny River, a stream of considerable importance, emptying into Tonoka Lake. This lake gave the name to the athletic league--the league made up of Randall, Boxer Hall, Fairview Inst.i.tute and some other places of learning in the vicinity. Randall often met Boxer Hall and Fairview on the gridiron or diamond.

Dr. Albertus Churchill, dubbed "Moses," was head-master at Randall, Dr.

Emerson Tines, called "Pitchfork," was the Latin instructor, and Mr.

Andrew Zane was the proctor.

There were other instructors, officials, etc., whom you will meet as the story goes on. As for the students, besides the four "inseparables" whom I have already named, I have already told you of some, though I might mention Sam or "Snail" Looper, much given to night prowling, Peter or "Gra.s.shopper" Backus, who aspired to be a great jumper, and "Bean"

Perkins, who could always be depended on to "root" for his team in a contest.

These lads were all friends of our heroes. Truth to tell, the lads had few enemies. Fred Langridge and his crony Garvey Gerhart, had made trouble for Tom and his friends, until the two bullies withdrew from Randall, and went to Boxer Hall.

And now, having read (or skipped) this necessary explanation, you may proceed with the story.

"He must be crazy!" called Tom to Sid, who, clanging the bell, was seated not far from the brake-tender. "Clean crazy to try to coast the hollow on his first trip."

"He doesn't know any better," returned Sid, as he looked ahead at the big bob which was nearing the dangerous turn.

"What's Frank up to?" demanded Phil. "He's steering for the hollow, too."

At this there was a scream of terror from some of the girls on the bob of our heroes.

"Don't do it! Don't try it!" begged the one next to Frank.

"Keep quiet, please," he requested in a tense voice. "I've got to save them if possible."

"I'm going to jump off!" a girl cried.

"Don't you dare!" ordered the Big Californian, and there was that in his voice which made her obey.

From the big bob in front, which was now only a little way ahead of the Randall sled, came a chorus of shrill screams. There was a movement, plainly seen in the bright moonlight, as if some of the girls were going to roll off.

"Sit still! Sit still!" yelled Frank. "Jam on your brakes there, Burton!" he added. "You'll never make that turn!"

"All right, I get you!" sang out the newcomer on the hill, and Phil gritted his teeth as he thought of his sister--and the other girls--entrusted to a reckless youth like this.

There was a sc.r.a.ping sound, as one of the lads on Burton's bob pulled the cord that sent a chisel-like piece of steel down into the snow-covered roadway. But the speed of the sled was not much checked by this brake.

By this time the two big bobs were close together, and the dangerous turn was almost at hand. All the other coasters on the hill, save a few that were near the bottom, had stopped their sport to see the outcome of the perilous ride.

"Look out, Frank, you'll be into them!" yelled Tom, as he saw their bob coming nearer and nearer to the foremost one. "Shall I jam on the brakes?"

His hand was on the cord, and, in another moment he would have sent the sc.r.a.ping steel back of the rear runner, into the frozen surface.

"No! No!" yelled Frank. "Don't touch that brake, Tom! I want all the speed I can get!"

"What are you going to do?" cried his chum.

"I'm going to head them away from the cut-off."

"You can't do it!"

"I'm going to!" retorted Frank grimly. "Easy on the brake, Tom."

"All right! She's off!"

The girls on both bobs were now quiet, but they were none the less in great fear. The very danger seemed to make them dumb, and they looked ahead with frightened eyes, waiting for they knew not what.

A moment later Frank's plan was plain to his chums. Knowing the hill as he did, familiar with every b.u.mp and hollow, he had decided, if possible, to draw up alongside the foremost bob, between it and the dangerous turn, which Burton did not seem able to avoid. Then Frank would hold a straight course, if he could, and fairly force the other sled out of danger.