Kitabı oku: «Frank Merriwell's Champions: or, All in the Game», sayfa 10

CHAPTER XXI – TWO ENCOUNTERS

“Vale,” grunted Hans, as he stretched himself on the ground in the shade of some shrubbery, “uf dese don’t peat der pand, you vos a liar!”

“Wal, I’m swuzzled ef it ain’t pretty gol darn slick,” agreed Ephraim, thrusting his hands into his pockets and looking around admiringly. “It’s queer haow Frank falls inter sech snaps as these. Heer we be invited to stay right heer at this place an’ make aourselves to hum jest as long as we want to.”

“And I feel as if I could remain here forever,” grunted Bruce, from a comfortable hammock, of which he had taken immediate possession on seeing it. “There’s something soothing and restful about this place that agrees with my nerves and promises balm and healing for my constitution that has been shattered by Arkansaw chills. It’s simply great!”

“It is rather jolly,” said the voice of Harry from the cool shadows of a vine-covered arbor.

“But it’s tame it’d be afther a bit, me b’ys,” declared Barney Mulloy, who was leaning against the trunk of a tree. “It’s sbort we’re lookin’ afther, an’ it’s ded quoiet here.”

“Mr. Kenneth St. Ives promises us some sport if we care to remain,” put in Bart Hodge, quietly.

“Phwat sort av sbort do yez think they can scare up here?” asked Barney, with a trace of contempt in his voice. “It’s croquet we moight play, but thot’s altogither too excoiting.”

“Yaw,” grunted Hans; “dot growkay likes me, for id don’d peen so much drouble to blay him. Der balls can knock me apoud shust so easy as nefer vas.”

“Frank and Jack seem to be enjoying some mild sport,” said Harry, as the click of billiard balls and Merriwell’s infectious laugh came from the open windows of a large summerhouse in the shrubbery close at hand.

“Those fellows never seem to care about resting,” grunted Browning. “They will wear themselves out long before they are old men, unless they let up in their wild career.”

All of the boys had reached Springbrook Farm, and Toots was taking care of their wheels. They had been left to themselves for a time, while Preston St. Ives and Kenneth went away to see that proper arrangements were made for the entertainment of their guests.

It had not taken Frank and Jack long to find the billiard table and get into a game, pulling off their jackets to it, as if they were in deadly earnest.

As the boys lolled there in the shade, they saw Harry Harden and Iva St. Ives come down a walk and pass near them, chatting and laughing, seeming well satisfied with each other’s society.

At a distance behind them, taking care not to be seen, Stephen Fenton stole along, keeping jealous watch of them.

“Aisy, b’ys,” warned Barney, speaking softly. “Take a look at th’ spalpane through th’ bresh here. It’s a dirruty face he has, or me name’s not Mulloy.”

“That’s what he has,” nodded Hodge, who took an instant dislike to Fenton. “Who is he? Is that the fellow who was with Miss St. Ives?”

“Th’ same, bad cess to him! She was afther callin’ him ‘cousin’.”

“He is following them!” exclaimed Harry, softly. “You don’t suppose he will try any crooked work, do you?”

“Oi have a fancy Misther Harden can look out for hisself, me lads,” said Barney. “Oi’ll back him against Mr. Fenton.”

“Yaw,” said Hans. “When Parney says dot, id peen all right. He knows my pusiness.” Then the Dutch boy relapsed into a position of comfort again, while the jealous spy passed on, watching the couple ahead of him.

Five minutes later the boys were startled by the sound of excited voices and a feminine cry of alarm.

Barney seemed to be waiting for that sound, for he sprang away like a flash, and Bart Hodge was not far behind him. Through the shrubbery crashed the two, and, in a moment, reached a spot where they were able to see what was taking place.

One young man was rising from the ground, while another stood over him, with clinched fists, evidently having knocked him down. To the arm of the latter, begging him not to strike again, clung Iva St. Ives.

“Oi knew it!” chuckled Barney in delight. “It’s Fenton thot interfared, an’ th’ other b’y knocked him down.”

In truth, Fenton it was who was getting up from the ground, while it was plain that he had been struck by Harden.

“Oh, I’ll even this!” snarled the man who had received the blow.

“Come on!” cried Harden, whose blood was aroused.

“Stop, Cousin Stephen – stop, Mr. Harden!” cried the girl, in distress. “You shall not fight!”

“He insulted me!” flamed Harden.

“I called you a sneaking cur, as you are!” hissed Fenton, getting upon his feet.

“And I knocked you down, as you deserved!” flung back the other young man.

“Hurro!” came softly from the lips of the Irish lad. “Thot’s th’ shtuff! Sail in, Misther Fenton, an’ do up th’ spalpane!”

At this moment the other boys, with the exception of Browning, came crashing through the hedge, and were by the two young men.

Fenton looked up, muttered an imprecation and then sibilated at Harden:

“We will settle this some other time!”

“At any time you like,” was the prompt retort.

Then Fenton whirled and quickly vanished in the shrubbery.

“It’s all over,” said Hodge. “Let’s get out of this instanter, for it must be a trifle embarrassing to Miss St. Ives.”

This little encounter had revealed to the boys that Fenton was jealous of Harden, who, plainly enough, was paying attentions to Iva.

“I believe Fenton is a bad man to have for an enemy,” said Rattleton, with unusual seriousness, as the boys once more gathered about the hammock, which Browning had not left for all of anything that was taking place beyond the shrubbery.

“Well,” said Hodge, slowly, “it’s not likely he is in love with Frank, for Merry was not willing to be imposed upon by him. Frank may have to look out for the fellow.”

“What’s that you are telling about me?” called the pleasant voice of Frank himself, as he emerged from beneath the vines over the door of the summerhouse followed by Diamond. “I’m all the time looking out for somebody. Here I’ve been having the battle of my life with Jack, and only beat him one point. I won the game on a fluke, at that.”

“But he won it, as he always wins everything he goes into,” said the Virginian, with traces of mingled vexation and admiration.

Toots came panting toward the spot all out of breath.

“Lordy! Lordy!” he gasped; “I done ’clare teh goodness; I’s ’feared to stay ’roun’ dat stable any mo’!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Frank. “You haven’t cleaned up all those wheels as soon as this?”

“No, sar; but dat hostler in dar am crazy ma-ad, sar.”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“He done suffin’ to dat hawse Fiahfoot, an’ de hawse don kick him up again’ de side ob de stall. Wondah it didn’t kill him, sar! Po-erful wondah it didn’t bre’k some ob his bones! Made him so mad he got a fork an’ was gwan teh stick it right inteh dat hawse. I couldn’t stan’ teh see dat, an’ I hollered. Den he see I was a-watchin’ ob him, an’ he was ma-ad enough teh kill meh, sar. I don’ dar’ stay an’ clean dem bisuckles, Marser Frank.”

“Those wheels must be cleaned to-night,” said Merriwell, decisively. “Come with me, Toots, and I will settle this thing so the hostler will not interfere with you.”

He strode away toward the stable, and the colored boy followed at his heels. Hodge and Rattleton followed more leisurely.

As Frank entered suddenly he detected the hostler, wrench in hand, doing something to one of the bicycles. It looked as if the man was making an attempt to ruin the wheel.

And it happened that the wheel belonged to Frank!

Three bounds took Merriwell to the side of the man, whom he grasped by the collar, crying:

“What are you doing there?”

The man straightened up, and turned his bloodshot eyes on the youth. His face was flushed, and the odor of his breath told he had been drinking heavily.

“Leggo!” he snarled; “leggo, or I’ll smash ye!”

“What were you doing to that wheel?” demanded Frank.

“None o’ yer business!” roared the hostler. Then he dropped the wrench, and made a swinging blow at the boy.

Frank dodged the blow and thrust out his foot in a manner that sent the awkward man sprawling.

“Land ob wartermillions!” squawked Toots, delighted.

As the hostler scrambled up, his fingers encountered the handle of the wrench and closed around it. His face was purple with anger, and there was a furious glare in his bloodshot eyes. The thick lips, purple and swollen, curled back from his tobacco-stained teeth, and with a snarl that might have issued from the throat of some wild beast, he flung the wrench at Frank’s head.

“Look out dar!”

Toots uttered the cry, but Merriwell was watching the man closely, and he dodged the missile, which went whizzing past with an unpleasant sound.

A man was just stepping in at the door, and the wrench struck him on the breast, knocking him down as if he had been shot.

Then Rattleton and Hodge came running up, and bent over the fallen man, who lay groaning on the ground.

It was Stephen Fenton!

The hostler seemed suddenly sobered by his act.

“Gosh!” he muttered. “It were Steve I hit! Hope I didn’t kill him!”

Frank was keeping watch of Wade, but saw the man was appalled by the result of his angry act, and so ventured to turn about and hasten to Fenton’s side.

“Bring some water!” he ordered. “He may be seriously injured!”

Fenton’s face was purple, and he was gasping for breath, but, as Merriwell stooped to lift his head, he feebly but savagely motioned him back.

“Hands off!” gasped the man. “Keep away from me!”

Toots came running up with some water.

“Heah, boss!” he cried; “heah’s yo’ watah!”

“What do I want of water! Anybody – got some – whiskey?”

“Here!” cried Wade, quickly stepping forward, and taking a bottle from a pocket inside his red flannel shirt; “here’s a bit.”

It was a pint bottle, nearly a third full. Fenton grasped it with a shaking hand as he sat up, lifted it to his lips, and did not take it down till he had swallowed the last drop.

With a growl, he got upon his feet, flinging the empty bottle aside. He gave Frank a fierce look, then addressed Wade:

“What’s the matter with you, Bill? Did you want to kill me?”

“I didn’t throw it at ye, Steve – I mean Mr. Fenton. I didn’t mean ter hit ye.”

Fenton rubbed his chest and coughed.

“Lucky you didn’t kill me,” he said, huskily.

Kenneth St. Ives appeared.

“What’s the matter here?” he asked.

The hostler hastened to explain that he was simply moving the bicycles out of the way when Frank Merriwell assaulted him.

“It was my wheel,” said Frank, making a hasty examination, “and he has loosened things up generally around it. If I were to attempt to ride it now without putting it in shape, the chances are that I would break my neck the first hill I came to. It is plain enough that this wheel has been doctored to give me a fall.”

Kenneth examined it, and saw at a glance that Frank was right. Still, the hostler protested that he had done nothing to the wheel save move it over slightly, so it would not be in the way.

“These wheels are not in your way, Wade,” said Kenneth, sternly, “and you may let them alone. You have been drinking, and you know that means you stand a good chance of losing your position.”

The hostler looked sullen and subdued, but said nothing. His assistants had appeared, attracted by the sound of the encounter, but they were holding aloof.

Kenneth reprimanded Wade severely, and then informed Frank that supper was ready for the party.

The boys had been given a chance to wash up, and soon they were seated about a long table in the cool dining-room of the old mansion, with Kenneth St. Ives acting as host.

CHAPTER XXII – HANS USES THE HOSE

A jolly party it was. They laughed, and joked, and told stories. They ate, and drank, and were happy. Browning fairly groaned with satisfaction, and then tried to disguise the groan by a cough. Hans gasped as he looked about at the good things with which the table was loaded, and his eyes bulged.

“Shimminy Ghristmas!” he gurgled. “I feel like all dot stuff could ead me up und not half dry. I ain’d seen nottings like dot for so long dot you don’d rememper id.”

“Wal, gol darned ef this air ain’t a slappin’ good layout!” observed Ephraim. “I was beginnin’ to wish I was to hum on the farm where I could git some baked ’taturs, but baked ’taturs won’t cut no ice with me arter I git threw with this fodder.”

“Hearty appetites are in vogue at Springbrook Farm,” laughed Kenneth; “and I want you all to eat till you are perfectly satisfied. Athletes should eat well at times.”

“Yaw,” nodded Hans, “I pelief me; but dot Vrankie Merrivell peen keepin’ der barty in draining so much dot I don’d had nottings to ead vot you like two veeks a time at. Dot kindt uf pusiness makes you got fat like a ghost.”

“Speaking about ghosts,” said Kenneth, with a sly wink at Merriwell, “there is a story that our summerhouse is haunted. As you fellows are going to stop there to-night, I trust you will not be troubled by spirits.”

Hans’ jaw dropped.

“Vot?” he squawked. “I don’d toldt you dere peen a ghost dot house in?”

“Sure,” nodded Kenneth. “Those who have seen it describe it as a tall, white figure, and those who have felt it say it has clammy, ice-cold hands.”

“Woo!” cried Hans, shivering. “I don’d pelief I vant to slept dot summerhouses in!”

“Oh, the ghost only appears occasionally, and it is not at all likely it will visit the summerhouse to-night.”

“Vale, you don’d know apout dot. Uf dot ghost heard I vos here, he peen sure to come. Uf you gif me a bistol und dot ghost came, mape he peen aple to shot me.”

“You mean that you will be able to shoot the ghost.”

“Yaw, I meant dot I peen aple to peen shot der ghost py.”

“That wouldn’t hurt him any. Spooks don’t mind being shot.”

“I don’d toldt you dot? Oxcuse me! I vill slept py der open air. I don’d care apout sleepin’ in dot summerhouses.”

“Oh, say!” exclaimed Ephraim; “gol darn it! can’t you see you’re bein’ guyed. There ain’t no ghost there at all.”

“How you known dot, Efy?”

“Why, see um larf at ye! Can’t you tell by the way they act?”

But the Dutch boy was not satisfied, and it worried him greatly to think he might be visited by a ghost that night. He insisted that he would not sleep in the Summerhouse unless provided with a gun.

After supper however, Kenneth took Hans aside and explained that a bullet from a gun or a charge of grapeshot and canister out of a cannon would not have the least effect on a ghost, but that ghosts could not stand water.

“In the room where you are to sleep to-night,” said Kenneth, “there is a hose pipe with a stopcock nozzle. All you need to do is take the nozzle end of the pipe to bed with you. If the spook appears, point the nozzle at him, turn the stopcock, and let him have it. He will be knocked out in the first round.”

“Vos dot der lefel on?” asked Hans, suspiciously.

“That is strictly on the level,” assured Kenneth,

“Vale, den I done dot. Let dot ghost come, und I vill gif him der greadest path vot I efer got.”

In the meantime, Frank Merriwell had taken Ephraim aside, and was saying:

“Gallup, you must scare the wits out of that Dutchman to-night. You are the tallest one in the party, and so you must wrap yourself in a sheet and play ghost on him. St. Ives is going to fix it so we can all hide behind a curtain in one corner of the room and see the fan. Will you do the trick?”

“Course I will,” nodded Ephraim. “I’ll skeer the Dutchman aout of his senses, b’gosh! Won’t it be heaps of fun!”

“Sure it will,” nodded Frank. “You must strip yourself of all your clothes, so you will look as gaunt as possible, then wrap the sheet around you and stalk in on Hans. He’ll have a fit.”

“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed the Vermonter. “I know I’ll die of larfin’ to see him! Haw! haw! haw!”

So it was arranged, and Frank hastened to tell the other boys.

“This is where Ephraim gets taken in,” smiled Merry. “Kenneth St. Ives has arranged for him to turn the hose on the spook, if one appears. If Hans is not too frightened to do anything, he’ll give Ephraim the surprise of his life. With nothing but a sheet over him, the water from the hose will go through to Gallup’s skin the first squirt, and we’ll be where we can see the fun.”

With no small difficulty Hans was induced to sleep alone in a room of the summerhouse. At one end of the room was an alcove that served as a wardrobe. In front of this alcove was a curtain.

Kenneth arranged it so that the hose attached to the private waterworks of Springbrook Farm was run in at the window of the Dutch boy’s room, and a full head of pressure kept on. He showed Hans how to turn the stopcock and let the water fly at the spook.

Just before the party was ready to retire Frank came upon Gallup and Dunnerwust, who were talking together and laughing in an odd manner.

“Here!” exclaimed Merry, “what are you fellows chuckling over?”

He was afraid the Dutch boy had told Ephraim about the manner in which he expected to vanquish the ghost.

“Haw! haw! haw!” laughed Ephraim. “I was jest tellin’ him I’d eat the gol darn ghost if he’d ketch it.”

“Yaw!” chuckled Hans; “und I toldt him I peen retty to pet zwi tollars der ghost vould ketch it. He don’d know vot I mean py dot, un don’d you toldt him nottings.”

Frank hastened to get the two boys apart, and remained with Hans till the latter was ready to go to bed.

“You don’d pelief dere peen any ghost, did you, Vrankie?” asked the Dutch lad, sleepily.

“Of course not,” assured Frank. “That’s a guy yarn St. Ives gave you. There’s nothing in it.”

“Vale, I peen so sleeby I can’d kept meinseluf avake no longer. Good-nighd, poys. I vas goin’ to ped.”

Then Hans waddled off to his room.

It was not far from midnight when the boys arose and prepared for the fun. Kenneth St. Ives was on hand. He had provided some ice for Ephraim.

“When we all get behind the curtain that hangs before the alcove,” said Kenneth, “you come into the room, Gallup, stalk up to the bed and run this piece of ice around over the Dutchman’s face. If that don’t frighten him out of his wits, I’ve made a big mistake.”

“It’s a yell thot’ll wake ivrybody fer a moile he’ll be afther givin’ whin he fales th’ oice an’ sees Ephraim in the whoite shate,” chuckled Barney.

In pajamas and nightclothes, the boys tiptoed up to the door of Hans’ room, opened it softly, and listened.

Hans was snoring.

One by one, the young jokers slipped into the room and concealed themselves behind the curtain. The moon was up, and a broad strip of light came in by the window and made the room light enough for them to watch what was to take place.

With a sharp knife, which went the rounds, each boy cut a slit in the curtain so he could peer out.

When everything was ready for the appearance of the “ghost,” they were startled to hear Hans muttering:

“I know how to feex you. Vater – goot coldt vater; Oh, uf I don’d gif you a path, you vos a liar!”

“He is sleeping in his talk – I mean, talking in his sleep,” whispered Rattleton. “He is thinking of the way he will fix the ghost. Oh, my! what a joke!”

Then he clasped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing aloud to think what fun they would have.

“Ven you peen all retty you said so,” muttered Hans, apparently continuing to talk in his sleep.

“Wal,” said the “ghost,” speaking aloud, to the astonishment of the boys behind the curtain, “I ruther guess ev’rything’s all ready. Let her rip!”

Then the curtain behind which the jokers crouched was suddenly snatched away.

At the same instant, Hans sat up in bed, and turned the stopcock of the hose.

Swish – spat!

A powerful stream of chilling water shot through the air directly toward that alcove. If struck the astounded boys, drenching them in a moment and knocking some of them over. The others piled upon the fallen ones, and all shouted with astonishment and disgust.

Then Hans, grasping the hose, bounced to his feet, standing upright in the middle of the bed, and poured the stream of cold water down upon that struggling, squirming mass in the corner.

“Oh, say, vot a shoke dot vos!” cried the Dutch boy, swaying the nozzle of the hose to evenly distribute the water over all the boys. “Ain’d you hafin’ fun mit us! I don’d belief you nefer seen der peat uf dese shoke before all your life in! You don’d vorget der fun vat you had mit us to-nighd a long dime in.”

“Haw! haw! haw!” roared Ephraim. “Soak it to um, Hans! Ain’t they havin’ a regular picnic with us! Ho! ho! ho! This is more fun than hoein’ ’taters!”

“Stop it!” cried Rattleton, gasping for breath. “You blundering Dutchman turn that hose – Woogh-uh-oogh-uh – oogh!”

The stream from the hose had struck Harry full and fair in the mouth, and he was nearly drowned.

“Oi’ll murther thot Dutch chaze!” shouted Mulloy. “Oi won’t lave a whole bone in his body! Oi’ll – Wa-ow! Murther! Boo! Thot’s cold! It’s dead Oi am intoirely!”

“Hello, Parney!” called Hans, mockingly; “how you don’d like dot ghost pusiness, hey? Don’d id peen vunny!”

“Thunder and guns!” roared Browning. “This will give me another Arkansaw chill! Somebody will get hurt when I find out who put up this job on me!”

Hodge and Diamond made a desperate attempt to get away, but Hans saw them, and gave them a straight shot that knocked them down again in the midst of the struggling, squirming, kicking and shouting lads.

“Great Cæsar!” cried Kenneth St. Ives, as he untangled himself from the drenched and kicking mass. “The joke is on us!”

“It looks that way from the road,” admitted Frank, who was laughing heartily as he crowded his body back into a corner to get away from the water. “That confounded Yankee was too sharp to be taken in, and he put up this job with Hans. Goodness! hear him laugh!”

Ephraim was haw-hawing in a manner that told how delighted he was, and the roly-poly Dutch boy was dancing up and down on the bed, as he continued to drench the shivering, scrambling, shouting lads in the alcove.

“Oh, don’d you think dese pen der most fun I efer had!” gurgled Hans. “Dese peen der vay to got a shoke a ghost on. Yaw! Vot do I think uf dese ghost pusiness now, hey?”

“Haw! haw! haw!” roared Ephraim, holding onto his sides, and doubling up with laughter. “Gol darned ef this wouldn’t make a kaow larf! Give it to um, Hans!”

“Oh, yaw, I peen goin’ to cool them down. After ’dese don’d you pelief me ven dey toldt you I vos scared mit a ghost. Hello, Raddleton! Oxcuse me uf you got der vay in. I didn’d seen you pime-py. You oxbect I vos havin’ a goot time, hey?”

Harry had been untangling himself from the others, and now he tried to get up, but the stream of water struck him behind the ear, and keeled him over once more, plumping his head with great force fairly into Browning’s stomach.

“Thunder and lightning!” roared the big fellow. “I’d rather be in a football rush! I’ll give ten dollars to anybody who will pull me out of this and get me out of the room. My eyes are full of water, and I can’t see.”

“You don’d haf to took a shower path der morning in, Prowning,” laughed Hans.

Then St. Ives and Merriwell got hold of each other, and made a break for the door, doing it so suddenly that they escaped before the Dutch boy could turn the hose on them. They remained outside, laughing and calling to the others, who came stumbling blindly out, one by one, dripping wet and hopping mad.

“The joke is on us, boys,” laughed Frank, “and we may as well make the best of it. It’s no use to kick.”