Kitabı oku: «Frank Merriwell's Champions: or, All in the Game», sayfa 7
CHAPTER XV – A BOXING MATCH
That afternoon, the Yale lads were invited down to the combined clubhouse and boathouse of the Blue Cove boys. They went along in a body, Browning having recovered sufficiently to make one of the party.
The boathouse was built over the edge of the water, and a wing of it served as a clubroom. The regular eight-oar racing boat lay high and dry on her brackets, and the visitors inspected her with interest.
“What do you think of her, Merriwell?” asked Kent Spencer, rather anxiously.
“She’s all right,” nodded Frank. “It is plain she is a new boat, and made from an up-to-date model.”
“We bought her last season. She is the first really good boat we ever owned, and that is how we happened to win the championship from Alexandria. She cost us a pretty sum, but we more than made it up on the race.”
The final words were murmured into Frank’s ear, and Merriwell understood that, although betting on the races was forbidden, the Blue Cove lads had found a way to win some of the money Alexandria was so willing to stake on her crew.
“Our old boat was too wide in the waist,” Spencer explained. “She could not slip through the water as easily as this one. I presume this may be improved upon, but I can’t see how.”
“Nor can I,” confessed Frank. “If you do not win the race this season, it is certain the boat will not be the cause of your defeat.”
Besides the large boat, there was a four-oared shell, also new and handsome. This attracted no little attention and admiration from the Yale lads.
When the boats had been inspected, the visitors were invited into the clubroom, which they found comfortably furnished, with large windows, which could be opened to let the cool air sweep through the place. Everything about the place was clean and in perfect order.
“It is an ideal summer clubhouse,” declared Frank, as he looked about admiringly.
There were two large tables, upon which were papers and sporting magazines. About the tables were strong but cheap hardwood or rattan chairs. All around the room ran a stationary settee against the wall. On the walls were pictures, nearly all of a sporting character. There was a picture of a yacht race, besides imaginative pictures of a football match and a game of baseball. A prominent picture was that of a great single-scull rower. There were also pictures of bicycle races.
One thing Frank noticed with intense satisfaction. There were no pictures of professional sports and prize fighters.
“Now, fellows,” cried Jack Diamond, “what do you think of Virginia and Virginia boys?”
And from the Yale crowd came a shout of:
“They’re all right!”
The Blue Cove boys did what they could to make the visitors comfortable, and a general jolly afternoon was spent. For amusement, Hans and Ephraim were induced to don the gloves and have a bout.
“Vot you pet you don’d knocked me oudt der virst roundt in, Efy?” grinned the jolly Dutch lad. “You oxpect I peen a holy derror der cloves mit, eh?”
“Gol darned ef I know anything abaout ye!” answered the Vermonter, as he stuffed his long fingers down into the gloves. “All I want is plenty of room, an’ there ain’t enough in here, b’gosh!”
“Yaw, you gif me blenty uf rooms,” urged Hans. “Vy you don’d come der odder part uf der puilding indo, hey?”
“That’ll suit me. Come on.”
So out they went into the room where the boats were kept.
“You want to look out for the slip,” said Spencer. “You might fall into the water, and – ”
He did not say more, for he saw Frank violently shaking his head, and tumbled to the fact that Merriwell did not want the boxers warned against the opening by which a boat could be rowed into that very room.
Ephraim seemed to feel lively and belligerent as soon as he pulled on the gloves, for he pranced around Hans, making furious feints and chuckling:
“Oh, jeewhiskers! ain’t this goin’ to be a reg’lar darn picnic! We’ll have heaps of fun thumpin’ an’ punchin’ each other, Dutchy.”
“Yaw,” grinned Hans, but with a sudden expression of dubiousness, “it peen goin’ to be so much fun as nefer vas. Vot you pet on der game? Vot you pet you don’d lick me? I know I can let you done dot, und I pet von tollars on him. Uf you got der nerfe, you pet me dot.”
“Don’t talk about betting, but come an’ see me!” cried Ephraim, still prancing about and flourishing his arms.
“Oh, you peen in a pig hurry, don’d id,” cried Hans. “Vale, look avay oudt!”
Then he made a rush at Ephraim, who simply straightened out one of his long arms, permitting the Dutch boy to run against his glove.
With a terrific thump, Hans sat down on the floor.
“Yow!” he cried. “Oxcuse me for dot! I didn’t know you vas lookin’! Uf you hurted mein nose, I didn’t meant to done id.”
The witnesses laughed, and Hans got upon his feet.
“Come on!” invited Ephraim. “Come right at me!”
“I peen goin’ to done dot britty queek, you pets my poots!” declared Hans, as he bounced around the Yankee boy, keeping at a safe distance. “Der nexd dime you hit me, id vill pe mit you faces mein fist on. Yaw!”
“Brace up to him, ye Dutch chaze!” urged Barney, who began to itch all over at the sight of anything resembling a “scrap.” “Don’t let th’ long-legged farmer be afther froightenin’ yez.”
“Who vos frightened?” demanded Hans. “He don’d peen afraidt uf me. I vas goin’ to shown him a trick vot I nefer seen. Here id vas, py shimminy!”
Then he made another rush at Ephraim, who thrust out his fist once more, expecting the Dutch lad to run against it. But Hans had not forgotten what happened the first time, and he dodged under Ephraim’s glove, and gave the Yankee lad a terrific thump just below the belt.
With a howl, Ephraim doubled up like a jackknife, holding both hands to his abdomen and turning purple in the face.
“Yah!” shouted Hans, triumphantly. “Vot you toldt me a minute ago, ain’d id? I know I peen goin’ to done dot! Oh, I vas a holy derror somedimes!”
“Gol – darn – yeou!” gasped Ephraim. “Yeou hit – me – below – the – belt!”
“Yaw,” nodded Hans; “you pet I done dot. I known der blace vot takes uf you der vindt oudt, und I don’d haf a latter to climb higher up mit.”
Ephraim was mad. As soon as he could straighten up, he sailed into Hans in earnest, and the spectators shouted with delight at the spectacle.
To the surprise of all, the fat little Dutchman proved a rather stiff antagonist for the Vermonter. It made no difference to Hans where he struck Ephraim, and he managed to duck under the Yankee lad’s wicked blows.
In their excitement, the boxers did not observe that they were working toward the open slip, assisted by Frank and his friends, who pressed upon them from the opposite side.
Suddenly, as he was being pressed close, Hans dodged under Ephraim’s guard and clutched the country lad about the waist. Gallup wound his long arms around Hans’ neck, and they swayed and strained in each other’s grasp.
It was uncertain whether they staggered of their own accord or were given a slight push, but all at once they reeled and went over into the slip.
Them was a great splash as they struck the water, and they vanished from view, still locked in each other’s arms.
In a moment they came up, having broken apart.
“Hellup!” squawked Hans.
“Help!” howled Ephraim.
They splashed about wildly, clutched each other again, and sank once more, while the boys in the boat-house screamed with laughter.
“They are frightened enough to hang onto each other and drown right there,” said Frank. “We must help them out.”
So Merriwell and Rattleton each secured a boathook, and as soon as possible hooked it into the clothes of the boys, who were floundering about in the water.
“Pull, Harry!” Frank shouted.
They were on opposite sides of the slip, and so they succeeded in dragging Hans and Ephraim apart, for all that the Dutch boy made a frantic effort to hang fast to the Vermonter.
Harry had fastened into a convenient part of the Dutch lad’s trousers, while Frank had hooked onto Ephraim’s belt. The latter was pulled out easily, but the fat boy’s head and feet hung down, and Rattleton was forced to call for assistance. Fortunately, Hans’ pants were stout in that particular spot, and did not give way.
When the boxers were brought out, they sat on opposite sides of the slip, water running in streams from their clothes, and stared across at each other in ludicrous disgust and rage.
“Gol darn ye!” Ephraim gurgled, weakly shaking his fist at Hans. “Yeou was to blame fer that! Ef I could reach ye, I’d swat ye right plumb on the smeller, b’gosh!”
“Yah!” sneered Hans, shaking his fist in turn, “uf I peen so near to you as you vos to me, I vould gif you somedings dot I vouldn’t like, und don’t you remember dot!”
Then the spectators shouted with merriment once more.
CHAPTER XVI – THE CLUB MEETING
That evening a meeting of the Blue Cove Academy Athletic Club was called in the clubroom of the boat-house, and every member in the vicinity was present.
Frank and Jack were asked to attend the meeting, and they were on hand.
When the meeting had been formally opened, Kent Spencer arose and explained that it had been called for two reasons, the first matter for consideration being the charge of double dealing and treachery which he should make against their late coach, Rolf Harlow.
Then the red-haired boy, Fred Dobbs, who was secretary of the club, said he had a brief communication from Harlow, which would render it quite unnecessary for them to go through a regular investigation, and call the two witnesses, Merriwell and Diamond, who were present.
“This note,” Dobbs explained, “was left at the hotel by Harlow when he suddenly decided to get out of Blue Cove to-day. The clerk forgot it, and did not hand it to me till a short time ago, which explains how it happens that I have not spoken of it.”
He then proceeded to read it aloud. It ran as follows:
“Mr. Fred Dobbs, Secretary B. C. A. A. C.
“Dear Sir: As I am about to leave Blue Cove, I write this to let you know that your entire club, and yourself and Kent Spencer in particular, are a lot of chumps. You are easy stuff, and if it hadn’t been for Frank Merriwell, with whom I will yet get square, I would have worked you for a jolly good haul in cold cash. You must have thought me a fool to waste my time coaching you for the paltry sum you agreed to pay me. I am out for dust, and I generally get it. I intended to fix things so you could not win against Alexandria, and I should have had a good sum bet against you, being certain of winning. That was my game, and now that it is spoiled, I don’t care who knows it. I think the Alexandria boys will win anyhow. As for Merriwell’s charge that Mr. Radford was sent here by Alexandria as a spy, there is nothing in it. The Alexandria fellows knew nothing about his being here. He is a friend of mine, and, as I had advised him to bet against Blue Cove, he wished to see you in practice. That is all. Yours derisively,
“Rolf Harlow.”
This insolent and insulting note brought cries of anger from the listening lads, and when Dobbs finished reading, the entire club was in an uproar. On all sides fierce denunciations of Harlow were to be heard. The things said about Rolf were far from complimentary.
Spencer, who was president of the club, found some difficulty in calling the excited and enraged boys to order. A dozen times he hammered on the table before him with his gavel, sharply commanding them to sit down and be still. At last they subsided, grumblingly, scowling and muttering to each other.
Kent then arose and said:
“Gentlemen, we should thank Mr. Rolf Harlow for saving us the trouble of an investigation by frankly acknowledging himself the contemptible and pusillanimous scoundrel which he is. A fellow who could make such a confession without shame – indeed, a fellow who could make it boastingly, as this fellow did, is not worthy an instant’s consideration from gentlemen!”
“Right! right!” cried the boys.
“All there is to be considered in connection with this matter, then, is whether Alexandria was concerned in this dirty game or not.”
“But he says Alexandria was not,” quickly said a boy by the name of Anson Addison.
“And I would not believe him under any circumstances!” cried Fred Dobbs.
Then arose another discussion, which ended in the appointment of a committee to discover, if possible, if the Alexandria Club had resorted to such a sneaking and ungentlemanly trick.
The committee listened to what Frank and Jack had to tell of the conversation they had overheard between Harlow and the spy. They looked serious, and were of the opinion that a further investigation seemed certain to prove beyond a doubt that Alexandria, enraged by their defeat of the previous season, had resorted to unfair means to win back the title of “champions.”
The next matter that came before the meeting was the consideration of Frank Merriwell’s proposal to enter the race with his Yale Combine.
As soon as this matter was called up, Anson Addison jumped to his feet and protested against considering it while two members of the Yale Combine were present.
Frank and Jack immediately arose to withdraw. Spencer urged them to stay, saying he did not see why they should not remain, but they excused themselves and left the room.
Then followed a red-hot discussion as to the advisability of letting Merriwell and his friends row in the race. Addison argued against it, and he made many strong points. He claimed that the Yale Combine was a temporary organization, which would not be in existence long, and might not last another year. If it won the championship, there was no certainty that Blue Cove would get another opportunity to row against the combine. Alexandria might object to rowing a three-cornered race; in fact, it was almost certain Alexandria would object. There was no proof that Alexandria had not dealt fairly with Blue Cove, and if the Yale Combine won the race, and failed to row next season, Alexandria could claim Blue Cove had lost the championship, which would give them an opportunity to row against some other organization and bar Blue Cove.
Fred Dobbs, hot-headed as usual, made a spirited reply to this, but was checked by Spencer, who used better judgment, talking quietly and calmly, and showing that the things Addison pretended to fear were not likely to happen. He also showed that in case the charge of double dealing was proven against Alexandria, Blue Cove might bar them, and give them no chance to make any claim to the championship, or a right to win it back. In case this charge was proven, and Alexandria was barred, where was there another crew to row against Blue Cove on the date set for the event? The Yale Combine was the only one, as a race with another organization could not be arranged in such a short time.
Addison was neither silenced nor convinced, but the question was put to the test, and but two votes were cast against admitting the Yale Combine to the race.
Then the meeting adjourned, and several of the Blue Cove boys hastened to notify Merriwell and his friends of their decision.
Frank’s party was delighted, for here was fresh sport for them, and of a sort they had not encountered on their tour.
“I shall take a train for Washington to-morrow,” said Merriwell, “and see what I can do about securing an eight-oar shell.”
“An’ it’s oursilves will be afther gettin’ inther thrainin’ immediately afther ye return wid it, me b’y!” cried Barney.
Frank remembered the Irish lad had been handy with an oar in the old days at Fardale, while Ephraim, at one time a genuine lubber, had been to sea and could pull like a sailor. Hans was the one Frank feared would cause trouble, but he said nothing of his fears. It would take some time and hard work to hammer his crew into any sort of shape, but he was out for sport, and to him work of such a nature seemed sport.
On the following morning Frank left Blue Cove for the nearest railway station, where he boarded a train bound for Washington. He was gone more than twenty-four hours, but when he returned he announced that a boat would follow him shortly.
That very afternoon a handsome eight-oar shell was brought to Blue Cove, and the boys received it with cheers of delight and admiration, the Blue Cove lads cheering as loudly as the others.
“Look at them!” exclaimed Diamond, his eyes shining. “True sons of Old Virginia, every one of them! Hearts as big as buckets and souls as large as their entire bodies! Virginia, Virginia! mother of presidents and fairest spot of all our glorious country! Who would not be proud to call you home!”
The Blue Cove boys permitted the Yale Combine to put their shell in the boathouse, and for more than an hour the place was filled with boys who were making comparisons between the two boats. The final decision of nearly all was that, although the new boat showed it was new, there was no perceptible difference between them.
Being doubtful about Hans, Frank decided to take his trial trip under cover of darkness, and the time was set for that evening.
It was nearly nine o’clock when, with his crew in their allotted positions and himself as stroke, Merriwell gave the word, and the light shell slipped out from beneath the shadow of the boathouse and glided away upon the calm waters of Blue Cove.
To Frank’s surprise, Hans could row far better than he had expected, and the trial was fairly satisfactory, although it was apparent that the boys would need no small amount of coaching to get them into a uniform and even stroke.
How this coaching was to be done puzzled Merriwell not a little, for he knew he must be out of the boat and in position to watch every man in order to give them points.
“I’ll have to borrow a stroke of the Blue Cove chaps,” he thought. “Spencer’s work is all right, but it would overwork him to take my place occasionally.”
When they returned to the boathouse, they found Spencer and Dobbs awaiting them.
“Well,” called Kent, “how does it pan out?”
“The boat is all right,” said Frank, “but my crew is rather rocky, and I am puzzled to know how I am going to coach it. I can’t do it in the boat, but I don’t know where I’ll find a substitute to take my place occasionally. That’s what’s wanted.”
“Noel Spudd is the very man!” exclaimed Dobbs.
“Sure!” nodded Spencer.
“Who is Noel Spudd?” asked Frank.
“Fellow who was going to be on our crew, but his father would not let him stay and train,” explained Kent. “He came to the Cove this morning, and will stay after the race.”
“Can he row?”
“Can he? He’s a daisy!”
“Then he’ll do – if I can get him. See if you can fix it for me, Mr. Spencer.”
Kent promised to do so, if possible, and then the new boat was lifted out of the water for the night.
The following morning Spencer brought Noel Spudd to see Frank. Spudd proved to be a pleasant-looking, freckle-faced chap, good-natured and obliging, and he agreed to help Merriwell out, if possible, although he was anxious that his father should not find it out.
“You see, the governor is a crank,” he explained. “He has a theory that violent exercise is injurious to anybody, and he talks about enlargement of the heart and other evils that follow racing. I had to promise that I would not take part in the race before he’d let me come to the Cove to see it. I’ll keep my promise, but that will not prevent me from helping the thing along by aiding in the practice.”
So it was arranged, and Frank lost little time in getting the boys together and putting them to work.
Browning grumbled, as usual, and Rattleton declared he was praying for a chill, that he might get out of taking part in the work of training.
Spudd took Frank’s place in the boat, and Merry watched his crew row down the river, after which he mounted his wheel and followed.
For an hour Frank stood in a favorable position, watching the work of the boys in the boat and giving directions. He told each one of his faults, and how to correct them, and by the end of the hour he was well pleased with the progress made.
Of course, Merriwell did not expect to have a perfectly trained crew, capable of rowing against first-class college crews, but he believed his boys could be whipped into such shape that they would stand a fair chance of winning over Blue Cove and Alexandria.
A great surprise to him was the remarkable manner in which Hans Dunnerwust showed up at an oar. On the land, the Dutch boy was a perfect clown, but his whole manner and appearance changed the moment he got into a boat. He could row nearly as well as the best of them.
Frank felt generous in the matter of the race, for certainly Blue Cove had been most generous in its dealings with the strangers. He offered to take Harlow’s place as coach till another coach could be secured.
Spencer appreciated this, and the offer was accepted, so that afternoon found Merriwell on the river’s bank once more, shouting his commands to the Blue Cove crew.
That night Kent Spencer publicly declared that it was his conviction that the crew had improved more in one hour under Merriwell than during the entire time Harlow had coached it.
Anson Addison was the only one who was not enthusiastic. He remained silent and sulky, saying nothing, but thinking a great deal.
Addison was not well liked at Blue Cove, but he was something of an all-around athlete, and without doubt as good a man with an oar as could be found among the academy students. He was considered of great value to the academy crew.
Since his defeat in the attempt to bar the Yale Combine from the race, Addison had sulked and held himself aloof, refusing to speak to Frank and his friends, whom he pronounced “a lot of plebes, not fit associates for any gentleman.”
Addison’s friends had seen him sulky before, and Spencer advised them to let him alone, saying he would get over it after a while if he was not troubled.
