THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE

OR

Out for the Hockey Championship

BY GRAHAM B. FORBES

AUTHOR OF "THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH,"
"THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND," ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

The Boys of Columbia High Series

BY GRAHAM B. FORBES

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, per volume,
50 cents, postpaid.

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH
Or The All Around Rivals of the School

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE DIAMOND
Or Winning Out by Pluck

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE RIVER
Or The Boat Race Plot That Failed

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE GRIDIRON
Or The Struggle for the Silver Cup

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE
Or Out for the Hockey Championship

GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK

Copyright, 1911, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP
The Boys of Columbia High on the Ice

CONTENTS

THE BOYS OF COLUMBIA HIGH ON THE ICE

CHAPTER I

RULE OR RUIN

"Hi! there, Frank! Don't you want to take a little spin with me aboard my new ice-boat?"

"Why, hello Lanky, is that the Humming Bird you've been building on the sly?" and Frank Allen as he spoke, looked up from his task of locking a glittering skate to his shoe.

"Ain't she a corker, though?" demanded the proud owner and builder, Lanky Wallace, as he sprawled upon the framework of his strange craft, with its sails flapping in the breeze.

"Well, honest Injun, Lanky," observed Frank, with a smile, "I can't say that she's a beauty so far as looks go; but I like her lines, and it strikes me that she ought to be a hustler to get along."

"That's just what she is, a regular screamer. I'm sorry I called her by such a modest little name, for she deserves a better. Drop aboard, and see if she doesn't outshine the boat I made last winter," continued the ice sailor, eagerly.

"Sorry, but another time will have to do," replied Frank, seeming to hesitate as though deciding between pleasure and duty.

"Why not now?" tempted the other, artfully; "the sun is good for nearly an hour, and there's more'n half a moon up yonder. Say yes, Frank. It's seldom we have the ice like this; and there's some breeze, though not all I'd like. Come right along!"

"The trouble is," explained Frank, with a sigh, "I've just got to skate up to Clifford before dark. The athletic committee of Columbia High had a meeting this afternoon, and commissioned me to carry a challenge up to the boys of Clifford High. So you see I must be off."

"What's that? A challenge for what? Don't tell me we're going to rub up against those nifty hockey boys, who have cleaned out everything on the Harrapin these last four years, until they crow like the cock of the walk?" and Lanky threw up both hands to indicate intense excitement.

"That's just what it means; and now you understand what all that practice with our team has been standing for," returned the boy who sat on the bank, as he again bent over his skates.

"But hold on," cried Lanky, "what's to hinder our whirling up the river to Clifford on this same contraption? Why, we can beat your best time on runners to flinders. No more arguing now, but hop aboard, and we're off!"

Frank looked up, gauged the breeze, glanced along the smooth stretch of ice on which some dozens of Columbia boys and girls were gliding hither and thither; and immediately unfastened the one skate he had clamped tight.

"I'll go you, old fellow! It's too good a chance to be lost; and I'm anxious to find out whether this new boat is better than the old Hurricane you had last winter. Make room there!" with which remark he cleared the distance separating the shore line from the ice-boat, and threw himself down beside the skipper.

As they began to move off under the influence of the dying breeze a number of the skaters gave utterance to loud cries, and made out as if about to give them a race. The fleetest of them quickly fell astern, however, and presently a bend in the river shut them completely out of sight.

While Frank and his chum are thus whirling up the Harrapin River toward the town of Clifford, some miles above, it may pay us to cast just a fleeting glance backward, and see who these lads were, and what aims and ambitions influenced their actions.

The Harrapin boasted of three progressive towns along its banks, each ranging from seven to twenty thousand inhabitants. Columbia was the largest, though Bellport some eight miles further down the river possessed numerous factories, and was a business community.

Each town had its own high school, that of Columbia being especially famous on account of its almost perfect equipment. Between the scholars of the three seats of learning there naturally arose a most persistent rivalry, and from year to year this was carried on in all the sports which up-to-date American boys enjoy.

In the first volume of this series, "Boys of Columbia High; or, The All Around Rivals of the School" will be found many interesting, as well as thrilling, encounters, in which victory was only won after a bitter struggle.

With the coming of balmy Spring the sports of course took on an outdoor flavor, and consequently the second story had to deal with that truly American National sport, baseball, under the title of "The Boys of Columbia High On the Diamond; or Winning Out By Pluck."

The arrival of a new eight-oared shell for the boat club of the school brought both delight and alarm in its train. If you want to experience all the sensation of being present on the beautiful Harrapin on that Glorious Fourth when the wonderful water carnival was celebrated, and read of the astonishing things that happened to the rival students, then read the third volume of the series, which is called "The Boys of Columbia High On the River; or, The Boat Race Plot That Failed."

Vacation over, and with the coming of the two hundred and fifty scholars back to the charge of Professor Tyson Parke and his able assistants, of course the tang of the sharp, early Fall air brought one subject forward. What this was you can readily guess by the title of the fourth book in the series, preceding the present volume: "The Boys of Columbia High On the Gridiron; or The Struggle for the Silver Cup."

Frank Allen was the son of the proprietor of Columbia's great department store. He had one sister, Helen, just a couple of years younger than himself. Lanky Wallace, who had played a prominent part in all the sports through which the school had this year won imperishable renown, was the son of a banker, who was also a lawyer, and meant to follow in his father's footsteps later on.

When the bend above Columbia had been turned, there lay a pretty straight course up to Rattail Island, which was situated about half way between Frank's home town and Clifford. There was not a single skater in sight, as the afternoon had waned, and the lapse of time had caused a gradual retreat to a point nearer home.

"Hurrah!" shouted Lanky, as he guided the spinning craft along over the even surface of the famous little stream; "isn't this the limit? We own the whole river! How does she compare with the clumsy old Hurricane, Frank?"

"Not at all," came the quick reply.

"Why, whatever do you mean?" gasped the disappointed builder, reproachfully.

"There isn't any comparison," laughed Frank, "she's in a class by herself, Lanky! Given some breeze, and I reckon she'd just hit the high places of the ice. She's like a thistledown floating along. You've sure gone and done it with this dandy craft."

"Bully for you, old fellow! You make me feel good all over. Say, what's that?" and Lanky stretched his neck in the effort to see ahead.

"Looks like a sail behind that point. As sure as you live it's moving! There's another ice-boat coming out at a whooping pace!" exclaimed Frank, his voice filled with both satisfaction and wonder.

"Wow! now, what do you think of that for luck? Why, of course it's Lef Seller and his blessed tub the Harrapin Flier! He beat me every time last year, and he's just been laying for me in that cove, meaning to show me a clean pair of heels to-day. It's going to be a race, Frank! There he comes out, and he's got Bill Klemm along with him, as usual!"

"He's heading up the river, Lanky. That's a challenge for you. Are you going to stand for it?" demanded Frank, who, like the vast majority of boys, never liked to let a plain dare pass by without accepting it.

"Watch me haul up on him hand over fist! Before we're past Rattail Island this little darling is going to make the Harrapin Flier look like thirty cents. She's a has-been, and belongs to a slow age!" said the skipper, jauntily.

He shifted his weight and asked Frank to do the same. In so doing the result was immediately shown in an accelerated pace on the part of the ice-boat; either that, or else a slant of fresh wind caught her sail, coming from out behind that same cove where the rival craft had been hidden.

Up the river they flew like a pair of frightened gulls; only such salt water birds were never seen around the neighborhood of Columbia.

Both skippers seemed to be jockeying for all the advantage there was to be had in position. The river was well known to Lanky, and he had been over this course so many times in every kind of water craft that he was familiar with each little turn; and not only the sweep of the current in summer, but the passages in the wooded shores through which squalls of wind might be expected to swoop down.

"We're gaining!" declared Frank, almost immediately, when both ice-boats had taken a straight-away course, so that comparisons could be made.

"WE'RE GAINING!" DECLARED FRANK.

"Are we? I should say yes, and just creeping up on the duffer so fast that he'll soon look like he's standing still! Why, I could cut circles around that ancient tub. To the woodpile with her, Lef; that's all she's good for!" and he raised his voice in a taunting shout that must have stung the ears of the chagrined owner of the rival boat.

"They're trying to move around some, I notice; shifting their ballast to coax a little more speed out of the thing," announced Frank, quickly.

"No good trying. I've got the Injun sign on that boat, as sure as you're born. This pays up for all his joshing last year. Now will you be good, Lef? You had an idea you would show me up, hey? Well, you've got another think coming, that's all."

They were now so close to the leading ice-boat that even an ordinary call could have been heard. Lef, who was quite a stalwart lad, did not dare look back, for fear lest he lost control of his craft, which was flying along at quite some speed, considering the light breeze. But his companion kept tab on all the movements of the pursuer, and posted him constantly.

"There's the island ahead, Lanky. Which channel are you going to take?" asked the passenger of the Humming Bird.

"The one to the left of course," came the ready reply. "Think me so green as that, with the breeze coming from the west? A fellow would get blanketed by the trees on the island if he chose the other side. And ten to one Lef knows that too. See, I told you so; he's already heading that way."

"But that channel is only half as wide as the other, and unless you are mighty careful you'll come to a bad end in there. I hope we don't try to pass Lef before we get up above the island," added Frank, with a suspicion of impending trouble making itself felt in his voice, though as a rule he seldom winced when difficulties arose.

"We're climbing up on him fast," declared Lanky, grinning, "but I don't think we'll pass him while in the narrow part of the river; so there ain't going to be any mix-up, unless——"

"Unless what?" asked his chum, instantly.

"He might be mad enough to want to upset us in a heap, hoping to smash my jolly little new boat. It would be just like Lef Seller, and his rule or ruin policy of running things. All the same I don't take that other passage, and let him crow over me; nixy not. Now for it, my hearty!"

The island was at hand, looming up gloomy and forbidding on the right. At that moment the pursuing boat did not seem to be more than a dozen feet behind the one in the lead, and with every second even this distance was being wiped out.

"Watch him!" exclaimed Frank, as he felt sure he saw a furtive movement on the part of the tricky skipper of the Harrapin Flier that told of desperation.

Hardly had the words left his lips than Lanky gave a shout. There was reason for excitement, yes, and even consternation; for Lef Sellers, knowing that his ice-boat could no longer be looked upon as the queen of the river, had deliberately thrown his tiller in such fashion that the craft just ahead swerved from her course and was thrown directly across the bows of the oncoming Humming Bird.

A crash was inevitable, despite the frantic efforts of Lanky Wallace to avoid a collision that might mean the wrecking of his jaunty little craft even in the moment of her triumph!

CHAPTER II

THE CLIFFORD SEVEN GET A CHALLENGE

Crash!

Frank had acted on the spur of the moment, and torn the halliards loose from the cleat that held them, so that the sail of the ice-boat dropped just at the very second she plunged into the side of the other craft.

Instantly there was a great confusion, mingled with the sound of breaking planks and loud, angry cries. Strange to say Lanky's boat came through the smash with hardly any damage, while the offending craft was reduced to almost a jumble of mast, sails and thin splintered boards, in the midst of which the two reckless boys found themselves huddled.

Immediately all of them commenced crawling out of the mess. Lef was holding his hand to his face, endeavoring to quench the flow of blood from his bruised nose; while Bill Klemm's usually sarcastic countenance looked doubly grim as he grunted, and rubbed his leg where it had been rudely jolted in the collision.

"Now see what you've done, Lanky Wallace! You'll have to pay me for that damage as sure as you live!" roared Lef, dancing around in his impotent anger, and shedding gore copiously.

"Will I, nit," mocked the other, as he anxiously turned his gaze upon the bow of his own craft, to ascertain the extent of the damage. "It was all your fault, and you know it. Why, you deliberately turned square across our course! You just wanted this to happen, because it was settled that the old Flier had to take a back seat. You got all you deserved, and I don't feel sorry a bit."

"Here, take my handkerchief, Lef, and try and stop that bleeding. Work your jaws hard, and throw your head back, breathing through your nose," and Frank as he spoke stepped forward with the honest intention of rendering such aid to the injured as lay in his power.

"Mind your own business, Frank Allen!" spluttered the wounded boy, furiously, as he reached for his own handkerchief, and glared at the pair before him, with a malicious look in his eyes. "If it wasn't that I'm knocked out by your nasty work I'd feel like pitching in and giving you what you deserve, Lanky Wallace!"

"Oh! is that so!" jeered the party threatened, cheerfully; "well, make your mind easy about that, for I'm to be found any old day, and I know the boss place to adjourn for a fight. Frank, shall we go on our way? That errand of yours in Clifford is important, and we've got no more time to waste with these duffers."

"Huh! talk's cheap, with some fellers," shouted Lef, angrily. "Make up your mind you've just got to pay me the full value of that boat. I'll go and see your father about it. My word against yours, and Bill here will back me up against Frank. You did it on purpose! You hated my boat because it beat you every time last winter, that's what."

"You wouldn't dare," replied Lanky; for like every one connected with a lawyer's household, going to law was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Won't, hey? You just wait and see," declared Lef, bitterly. "My word's as good as yours, and there ain't no witness, you know!"

"Oh, yes there is," said a voice just then; and the boys turned to survey with some surprise a figure that stood close by, near the shore of the island.

He was apparently a tramp, though his bearded face just then bore a smile, and did not look unprepossessing at all.

"I happened to be fishin' right here, through a hole in the ice," this party continued, as he advanced, "and I saw all the racket. That feller Lef deliberately swung his boat across the bow of the other. He done it on purpose. He saw he was gettin' beat, and wanted to bust everything up higher than a kite. I'm right glad he was the only one to get it in the neck."

Lef scowled at the speaker as though he felt he would like to spring upon him, and do some hammering with his fists. But the fisherman seemed to be quite a husky chap, although privation had stamped a look of hunger on his bronzed face.

Lanky stared at him, too, a puzzled expression coming over his countenance, as though he could not for the life of him tell where he had seen this stranger before.

"And who are you?" demanded Lef, still glaring at the other as if he considered him an interloper. "I don't ever remember meeting you before. Guess you must belong in Clifford. Better keep there, and not come nosing around Columbia where you ain't wanted."

"Where can I find you, in case you're needed as a witness?" asked Lanky, exhibiting a bit of the shrewdness that had made his father the best-known lawyer in the county.

"Well, you see, just at present I'm fishing right here. That's my shack over yonder on the island. 'Taint much of a place, but then beggars oughtn't be choosers, they say, and it keeps me from freezing to death. Reckon I'll hang out nigh here a little spell, always waitin' and hopin' for somethin' to turn up."

Frank could detect a trace of bitterness in the voice of the tramp. Somehow it aroused his curiosity very much. There was certainly something bordering on the pathetic in the spasm of pain that flashed across his thin face as he said these last few words, "waitin' and hopin' for somethin' to turn up!"

Lanky kept staring at him, and shaking his head. He had not uttered a single word since the tramp fisherman appeared on the scene; so that it was Frank who presently took him by the arm and led him to the side of the ice-boat, saying:

"I don't think she's been hurt any, Lanky; suppose we make a fresh start. It's to be hoped we won't meet with any more adventures on the way, because that challenge has just got to be delivered to-day, sure!"

"Challenge! What's that?" exclaimed Lef, shooting a quick look in the direction of his crony, Bill Klemm, who was still grunting, and rubbing his left leg, with a sour expression on his face.

Without paying more attention to the disgruntled skipper of the broken ice-boat, both Lanky and his chum climbed aboard the Humming Bird, the sail was pulled aloft, and with a quick movement Frank tied another length of cord to that which he had broken in his frantic efforts to prevent a collision.

All this while his mate was turning his head again and again to glance toward the man; who did not seem to particularly fancy such scrutiny, for he kept his back toward them under the pretense of watching the other boys.

"My name's Frank Allen, and his is Lanky Wallace. We belong in Columbia. Perhaps if you get hard pushed we might be able to do something for you. If you happened to ask for me how'd I know it was you?"

Of course in calling out in this manner, Frank was only trying to get a line on the name of the lone fisherman who was seeking the bass and pickerel known to frequent the deep waters near Rattail Island.

"Call me Bill," muttered the man, after a brief hesitation; and Frank somehow concluded that this could hardly be his real name.

"No doubt he's ashamed of his own, or else don't want his folks to know he ever sank so low as this," was what Frank said to his chum, after they had once more started along the up-river course.

"Oh! shucks! what ails me? One second I think I've got it, and when I start to say it, blessed if the pesky thing don't seem to just slip away from me. I never had anything happen to me so dopey," muttered Lanky, fiercely.

"What's that?" demanded Frank, his curiosity excited, of course.

"Why, that fellow, you know—seems like I've seen him somewhere or other, at some time, and yet for the life of me I can't just clinch it. Every time I think I've got hold of it the thing slips away like an eel. I tell you I'll never be happy till I've remembered where I saw him," went on Lanky, who was a most determined fellow, obstinate he had often been called.

"Oh! I wouldn't bother my head about that. What does it matter, when the chances are you'll never set eyes on him again? These hoboes are here to-day and gone to-morrow. And I guess he is a tramp, all right, eh, Lanky?" went on Frank, as he turned one last look at the group alongside the island.

"Sure," replied the other, cheerfully. "But somehow I seemed to get a notion he was a little above the general run of hoboes. Mebbe it was his voice when he said he was waiting for something to turn up. What d'ye suppose he's expecting to come along? Do hoboes dream of millionaires dying and leaving them cash?"

"Perhaps they do. I hope Lef and Bill don't make up their minds to jump on him and try to get rid of some of their bile that way," ventured Frank, as a spur of land, jutting out from the shore, shut off a view of the channel that ran to the westward of Rattail Island.

At that Lanky laughed mockingly.

"Let 'em try it, that's all! Why, that hobo could just wipe up the ice with the pair of them, and then not half try. Oh! no, don't you forget it, Frank, Lef Seller's too cunning a fellow to take chances. He can talk pretty loud, but when it comes to fight, he generally squirms out of the rumpus."

"Still, it took considerable grit to deliberately throw his boat across our bows. Somebody might have been badly hurt in the smash-up," remarked Frank.

"Yep. But that came to him like a flash," his chum said, as he changed their course. "He never had time to think twice, or my word for it, he wouldn't have done the job. That was impulse. Even a coward will sometimes have a flash of what looks like courage; but it's only desperation. You know how a cornered rat will show its teeth, and fight."

"Perhaps you're right, Lanky. I'm glad for your sake the boat wasn't hurt much. She seems to scoot along just as well as ever."

"But what we did to the poor old Harrapin Flier wouldn't do to tell. It's to the scrap heap for her after that beat. But I wish I could remember where I saw that Bill," went on Lanky with another shake of his head, and a sigh.

Frank laughed aloud.

"Well, you're a queer duck, Lanky, I must say. As long as that thing is bothering you, I suppose you'll lose your appetite, and not take any interest in other happenings. What does it amount to, anyhow? Forget it, and try to imagine what a roar will go up from the Clifford fellows when they hear that Columbia challenges their hockey team the second day after Christmas, wind and weather permitting, for the championship of the famous old Harrapin."

"Well, we're almost there now," observed Lanky, "and soon we'll find out for ourselves what these gay chaps of Clifford have to say about it. Look there, and you'll see the ice fairly covered with skaters. They do run things up here different from the way we do, and I've heard outsiders say the best skaters in the State can be found right here in little old Clifford. It's a craze with them."

Loud shouts ahead attested to the fact that the skaters had discovered the advancing ice-boat, and hailed its coming with delight. Presently, as Lanky described a graceful curve, and brought the fleet craft to a standstill, with her nose heading toward the west where the breeze hailed from, scores of boys and girls gathered around.

"Where's Hastings?" asked Frank, as he stepped onto the ice.

"Here! who wants me?" called a voice, and the captain of the Clifford High School football eleven, as well as leader in all athletic sports Clifford boasted, came skating up, carrying a fine hockey stick made of selected Canadian rock elm.

"Why, hello, Allen!" he went on, holding out a hand to each; "and you, too, Wallace. This is mighty nice in you coming up to call on us. If you'd only been a little earlier you might have seen a rattling game between the regulars and a picked seven. It was fast playing all the way through, and if we did win we had little to crow over. Still, two of our best players were away, and it always makes a hole in a team to put on substitutes not accustomed to the play."

"I've got something that I was commissioned to give you, Hastings," and Frank as he spoke drew out an envelope, while the skaters gathered near, despite the suspicious crackling of the strong ice.

Hastings tore off the end of the envelope. As soon as he had read the contents of the enclosure a grin of pleasure spread all over his face. Turning, he looked to the right and to the left at the hockey players and others who had gathered around the ice-boat from below.

"Listen, fellows," he observed. "What d'ye think? We're challenged to a match by the Columbia High Hockey Team the second day beyond Christmas, or as soon after that as the weather permits. Shall we accept? All in favor say aye!"

And immediately there burst forth a shout that made the echoes ring from both sides of the Harrapin. Frank looked at his companion.

"Say, Lanky," he observed, when the tumult had in a measure subsided, "it looks like we would have our work cut out for us to beat this fast seven, eh?"

"But don't forget, Frank, that this is still Columbia's year," said Lanky, sturdily.

CHAPTER III

BILL

"Three cheers for Columbia!"

"Oh! ain't they got the nerve, though!"

"The pitcher that goes to the well once too often gets busted at last! They've carried everything with a swoop so far this year; but the dark days have come! Oh! you Columbia! I'm sorry for you!"

"Tell 'em yes, Captain Hastings! Don't keep the gentlemen in such suspense!"

"Yes, they might get cold feet if you hesitate too long. We're hungry, and we must have a bone; a Columbia bone will answer all right!"

Frank and Lanky listened to these and various other cries with amusement. They knew that back of it all the boys of Clifford were quite a sportsmanlike set; and believed in fair treatment for an honorable foe.

True, they had allowed themselves to be beguiled into nibbling at a betrayal of the Columbia signals, and several of the football team had, after losing the game, declared that it served them right, as they had no business to allow themselves to descend to such a depth; but as a rule they had always stood out for clean sport.

"Glad to see the idea pleases you, fellows. If the Clifford athletic committee see fit to accept this challenge, we intend to try and give your champion team as good a fight as we know how," Frank called out, laughing at the same time.

"Bully boy!"

"Three cheers for Frank Allen, the best all-around athlete that Columbia has!"

But Frank instantly threw up his hand.

"I object seriously to that, fellows! I'm one of a lot. I try to do my duty as I see it; but so do all my comrades. Please include every lover of clean sport in Columbia High when you give those cheers. I'd be better satisfied," he said.

"That's right! Frank's modest, but we like him all the better for it. Three cheers, then, boys, for our next victims; including the generous Allen!"

Whereupon they were given with a hearty will, amid much merriment and good natured chaffing, such as all boys delight in.

"Wish you luck, Allen. You carried off the baseball laurels; then gobbled the prizes in the boating carnival; and only recently beat both Clifford and Bellport on the gridiron; but we think you're up against a snag when you try to snatch the hockey championship from the fellows who have held it five years!" remarked Hastings.

"When will you let us know, Hastings?" Frank asked.

The other looked around.

"The sooner the better, I suppose. I believe the entire committee, with two exceptions, is present. Suppose I call a meeting right away. Could you hold up half an hour or so?" he asked.

"Afraid we'll back down? But perhaps our fellows are just as anxious to have the challenge accepted as you are. What say, Lanky; shall we hold over, so as to lay the acceptance before our committee to-night?"

"Why not? There's the moon to give us light when the sun fails. If the breeze doesn't die out completely we can get back by hook or crook. I say stay," declared the owner of the ice-boat, vehemently; for Lanky dearly loved a stubborn contest, and the idea of wresting the title of hockey champions from the boys of Clifford High School appealed strongly to his nature.

"All right. Will you come up to our rooms then? I'll get the committee together here on the ice, and we can go in a bunch. A few formalities have to be gone through with, you know," said Hastings.

"You go, Frank; I'll stay with the boat," suggested Lanky.

Although Hastings volunteered to get some fellow to guard the craft against any vandalism on the part of inquisitive youngsters of the town, Lanky was too fond of his recent triumph in the line of ice craft to desert it.

"I'll be chatting with some of the fellows. Go along, Frank, and settle matters. I'm not needed, anyhow. So-long, Hastings, and ditto Gentle, Coots and McQuirk," saying which Lanky dismissed them with a wave of the hand, and proceeded to bandy words with the remainder of the bunch.

Of course the boys of Clifford knew the tall Columbia student. They had seen him in action many a time, playing on the rival baseball team, holding down his place in the eight-oared shell that carried Frank's crowd to victory, and filling a difficult position on the victorious football eleven.

So they were glad to chat with him, and jolly him on the nerve his crowd had in sending a challenge to the undisputed champions of hockey along the Harrapin River.

Half an hour went by, and still no Frank.

"It's moonlight for us, I plainly see," remarked Lanky, as he cast a look up at the sky, where a pretty fair-sized queen of the night rode in all her splendor.

Most of the skaters had left the ice, in bunches of twos and threes. With the coming of night, a warm supper lured them home. Doubtless many would return again, for these Clifford young folks were almost as devoted to the sports of winter as the people of Holland, and pursued them with astonishing zeal.

Finally a hurrying figure came down the bank from the town where a myriad of lights now shone merrily.

"Hello! Lanky, still on deck, and not frozen? Sorry to keep you waiting so long, but they had a lot of formalities to go through with. And then the acceptance had to be written out, and a copy kept. Everything O.K. here?" asked Frank, as he joined his chum.

"Couldn't be better. Then you've got it along, Frank?" asked Lanky, who had immediately set to work hoisting the sail of the ice-boat, preparatory to starting on the return run down-river.

"Safe in my pocket; so that job's done," laughed the other.

"The worst is yet to come, mister!" remarked an urchin standing by, eager to see how the strange craft was manipulated.

"Well, now, you never spoke truer words, my boy, and we ought to know it. But nothing venture, nothing have; and we're bound to give Clifford a run for their money, wind and weather permitting. Ready here, Lanky!"

"All right. Good-night, fellows. When you see us again it will be with blood in our eyes. Be kind to yourselves, and don't do too much shouting until after you've sent us home, like dogs with their tails between their legs," and Lanky gave a quick turn to the framework on steel runners that threw the sail into the breeze.

So they started on the return trip to Columbia, with the precious acceptance of their challenge safe and sound in Frank's inner pocket.

"Mighty little air stirring," remarked Frank, even while they began to slowly glide along over the smooth surface of the river, heading south.

"Yes. I'm some dubious myself whether we can make it; or if we'll have to kick our way over the last half. Still, it takes only a faint puff of air to keep an ice-boat moving, you know," remarked Lanky.

"Of course, because there's no resistance, as in the case of a boat in the water. This is good enough, if it only keeps up; we'll be home in short order," and as he spoke Frank gazed admiringly at the moonlit shores of the romantic stream, for the Harrapin was bordered in many places with the primeval woods, though in others farms ran down to the edge of the water.

After leaving Clifford they saw not a single skater. It seemed as though they owned the whole river, up and down. The musical murmur of the steel runners on the ice was the only sound to be heard.

"Say, a fellow could easily imagine that he was away off in some wilderness, if it wasn't for the lights along the shore in places," suggested the skipper of the little Humming Bird, as they moved majestically along.

"Or the rumble of that freight train pulling uphill over yonder," said Frank.

"Oh! that could be called the roar of distant surf on the beach. It sounds like it, all right," remarked his chum.

"That's a fact, it does. Makes me think of the last time I was spending a summer on the beach. Careful now, Lanky; there's Rattail Island ahead of us. Which channel are you going to take now?"

"Same as before. You wouldn't find a ripple of a zephyr on the east side, and we'd have to paddle past with our feet," answered the skipper, heading his gliding craft toward the point in question.

"I can see a light on the shore of the island. Yes, it's a fire, all right. That must be Bill cooking his fish supper," remarked Frank, as they swung around the point of the island, and began to move between it and the main shore.

"Bill—Bill what? Hang the luck if I ever had a thing worry me like that seems to do," grumbled Lanky.

"Hello! at it again, are you? I believe that nonsense is going to keep you from enjoying a decent sleep to-night. Better try and curb that weakness, old chap. It will get you into no end of trouble, mentally," warned his comrade; at the same time secretly chuckling, for he knew Lanky could not change his nature any more than the leopard might his spots.

"Yes, there he is, cooking over the blazing fire. Bill may have been a tramp, but it strikes me I could give him a few pointers how best to make a fire when there's any cooking to be done. Give me the red embers, and the steady fierce heat. Are you going to hail him, Frank?"

"He's shading his hand to look out this way, already. I reckon he hears the click of our steel on the ice, for you know how sound carries when the river is frozen," and then raising his voice, Frank called: "Hello! there, Bill; getting grub ready?"

The tramp laughed as he answered back:

"She's done to a turn, boys. Hey, Lanky, if you want me to give evidence, you'll find me right here for some days!"

"All right, Bill. Say, those fellows didn't tackle you for what you said, did they?" asked the ice-boat skipper, as they passed the tramp's camp and shack.

"Well, I guess not! They'd have had a sweet time of it if they tried to climb me, I tell you, Lanky," came the answer floating after them.

Then a wooded spur of land shut out the fire from view.

"Say, did you notice how glib he called my name? Just like Lanky was natural to him all his life. But Bill—that's such a common name, how can I ever pound my head enough to tell where I saw him before. Bill—Billy—I don't seem to make connections at all. It's a case of being stumped, sure," muttered the disconsolate one, as he continued to pay attention to the movements of the gliding boat.

The night breeze was not only faint but fickle. Sometimes it came directly out of the west, and then suddenly the sail would flap as though it had veered into the southwest, necessitating a change of course, diagonally across the river, in order to make progress.

"Slow work," grunted Lanky, presently.

"Yes, but sure. We're not much more than a mile out of town now. If the wind died altogether we could push her along easily to your boathouse," observed his companion, always optimistic in his outlook.

"Yes, but I'd give a cookey to remember where I ever met that Bill. Oh! shucks! but ain't it just too mean for anything. There—I was just about to say the rest of it. Bill—Bill—when it slipped up on me—Smith, Jones, Brown, whatever can it be?"

Frank laughed derisively at the persistence of his friend.

"I see that nobody is going to have any peace till you bark up that name. Wish I could help you out; but as it happens I don't seem to feel the same way. If I ever met him before it was when he looked different from what he does now."

"There! perhaps that may be the key to unlock the closed door. You've given me an idea that may do the trick. There's that wind heading us off again, so that I've got to tack to get on. But it's jolly good fun, anyhow. Whoop! what's happened?"

Lanky let out a yell with these last words. Even the steady Frank experienced a sudden thrill; for the ice-boat was brought up with an abrupt shock, and her tall mast, sail and all went crashing down over the starboard side, narrowly missing striking the crouching skipper in its descent!

CHAPTER IV

WHEN THE ATHLETIC COMMITTEE MET

"Wrecked in sight of port! Was there ever such luck?" groaned Lanky Wallace, as he picked himself up, having rolled off the tilting ice-boat upon the smooth surface of the frozen Harrapin.

Frank was already scrambling to his feet.

"Well, I declare, that's mighty funny!" he was muttering; as he looked at the wreck of the once proud and towering mast, now dragging over the side of the sadly demoralized craft.

"What hit us? You see we're away off from the shore, and for the life of me I can't see any rock or other obstruction on the ice. It's as smooth as velvet back where we tumbled. And that mast was strong enough to hold a big blow. Can you get on to the secret, Frank?" begged Lanky, rubbing his elbow ruefully.

"The thing upset, all right, but didn't you notice that she seemed to rear up like a horse on its hind legs. Say, come back here a little to where it happened. We've been carried past, on account of our momentum. Now, this was about the very spot where the cyclone struck us," and Frank drew his chum along until they had retreated a dozen or more yards.

"Well, show me! I must be blind, for outside of that rug which we dumped, bless my eyes if I can see anything here that would kick us that way," and rubbing his knuckles into his eyes Lanky stared around.

"That's so, as far as the ice is concerned; but I think I've caught on to the answer to the puzzle," remarked Frank, with a touch of sudden anger in his voice.

"Then tell me about it. I'm just dying for information. It's bad enough to be worrying about that Bill mystery without having another shoved on me. What turned us turtle, and snapped off my beautiful mast like a pipe stem, eh?"

"Look up and see!" remarked Frank, grimly.

No sooner had the startled Lanky done so than he gave utterance to a cry of astonishment and chagrin.

"Why, what's that? As sure as I live it looks like a cable stretched across the river in this narrow place. How did we ever come to miss it before when we came up?" he ejaculated.

"We didn't have to. You know as well as I do that if that cable had been there we'd have seen it; and neither of us did," replied Frank, gravely.

"Do you mean—ginger! somebody must have put it there since we went up! Is that what you mean, Frank?" cried Lanky.

"Doesn't it stand to reason? Perhaps you might even guess who'd be most likely to play such a nasty trick as this?" went on the other.

"Lef Seller and Bill Klemm! Of course it was them! They knew we'd be coming back this way, and meant to upset us, perhaps smash my boat. Where'd they ever get the cable, do you suppose?" Lanky asked, perhaps a trifle stunned by the enormity of the prank indulged in by those under discussion.

"Wake up, Lanky, and think," said Frank, energetically. "Don't you see, we're directly opposite the quarries where the brown stone is taken out in summer? The place is shut up now, but under a shed a lot of material is lying. I can remember seeing a strong wire cable there that was used for something. Lef knew about it too, and I suppose the idea flashed into his scheming brain to use it in upsetting your boat."

"He did it, all right; broke my mast off, seems like, or wrecked it anyway. I'd just like to hammer him for this. Why, what if the thing had smashed down on our heads, it might have cracked our cocos!" exclaimed the other, in indignation.

"Lef seldom considers what a serious result may follow, when he sets about carrying out a joke. Remember the time he cut the electric light wires when we were having that entertainment in the big school hall, leaving the audience in the dark? Came near having a panic then that might have been terrible. Well, what are we going to do about it, Lanky?"

"Let's take a look at the mast. If it can be put up temporarily perhaps we can wiggle home yet with decency. Otherwise I guess it's a case of push with us," and the angry skipper of the wrecked craft hurried back to take a reckoning.

"Give us a hand here, Frank; I'm going to try to see if it can be stuck in once more, strong enough to hold out. There she goes up! Now, a little this way, and hold steady while I chuck in a few wedges to grip her."

"She seems to stand pretty good," remarked Frank, presently.

"Sure as you're born; and we're going to get home under our own steam, as we'd say if we had a boat that ran that way. Well, we're some lucky, after all. The fellow who never has an accident deserves little credit; but those who meet with all sorts of trouble, and conquer, ought to get special mention. And we belong to that class to-night, with our two collisions," and Lanky patted himself on the chest in appreciation.

"Hear! hear! Never were truer words spoken in jest. And if this sort of luck only follows us all through our career when we get out in the big world, there's nothing on earth going to keep us from bringing the bacon home," Frank observed.

"All aboard again then, passengers for Columbia! I'm getting ravenously hungry, and my folks will be sending to the police to look for me under the ice if I don't show up soon. Ready, Frank? Then off we go!"

"Better luck this time. Be ready for anything unexpected; for when that Lef Seller starts in to doing stunts he never knows when to stop. I'm going to watch overhead, and you keep close tabs on the ice, Lanky."

But they met with no new adventure, and after a little the ice-boat was brought safely into the cove where Lanky had a house in which he could place his novel craft, after unstepping the mast.

"I'll get at it in the morning, and repair damages," he remarked, as he locked the door after stowing things away.

"It's been a pretty lively afternoon, all told," remarked Frank.

"I should say so, what with that race, the deliberate attempt to bust my boat into flinders, the acceptance of the challenge, and our meeting with that upset on the way home. Then there's that plagued mystery hanging over Bill. Wish I could only say it right out, Bill, who? I guess I'm a punk hand to solve riddles, when I can't even remember a name."

"Perhaps you'll have it revealed to you in a dream to-night," suggested Frank, humorously, and digging his companion in the ribs.

"Well, stranger things have happened. I'll be thinking of it when I drop on my downy couch, all right," grumbled the other, who took the matter seriously.

"Why, a fellow would think the fate of nations depended on your remembering just where you happened to meet that tramp before. It's funny how you carry on, Lanky, old boy. Tell me when you suddenly see a great light, won't you?"

"Sure," avowed Lanky immediately, "if it happens in the night I'll ring you up on the 'phone and just whisper 'Bill—but Bill who?' Was sure I had it then, but it slipped a cog again on me. I suppose you'll call up the committee after supper, and arrange a meeting to hand over the acceptance to our challenge?"

"That's the programme. The boys will be pleased too, for they seem to have gotten an idea in their heads that we've actually a chance to beat Clifford at their own game," answered his chum.

"Well, what's the matter, don't you think we can do them up?" demanded Lanky.

"I hope so. Anyhow, we're just going to give them the best that's in us," was the guarded reply.

Lanky was the impetuous one, and always filled with a positive belief in his own powers to win out. Frank often had to curb this spirit, which might have led to disastrous results if allowed full rein. In his opinion it was far better to never underrate the foe, while at the same time ready to exert every atom of ability in order to accomplish a victory.

They separated soon after, each going to his own home. Frank found that his folks were already at the table, and after hurriedly brushing up he took his place.

His sister Helen seemed to know where he had gone, for one of the first things she did was to ask about the success of his mission.

"I brought back the acceptance to our challenge. It's all right," said Frank, who wondered why Helen was looking at him so strangely.

"I saw you go off with Lanky on his new ice-boat; did it work all right?" she inquired.

"Fine. We had a race going up, and won, hands down," replied her brother.

"Which means that you met Lef Seller with his Flier. And if you beat him I guess he didn't take it in any sportsmanlike way?" she continued, at which Frank laughed.

"You ought to be a lawyer, Helen; you persist in cornering a witness. Well, then he didn't. In fact he brought about a collision, throwing his boat squarely across our bows, in the hope that Lanky's craft would be smashed," he said.

Mr. Allen frowned.

"That boy is the pest of the town. There will never be any peace here until his father sends him away to some military school, where he can be taken in hand by a stern martinet, and made to mind. It's the only hope for him. And did he succeed in his miserable aim, my boy?" he asked, solicitously.

"There was a wreck, all right, but it happened the shoe was on the other foot, and the poor old Flier is only fit for the woodpile now. It's just as well, for Lef would never use her again, after being overtaken so handsomely by Lanky's new racer. But we hardly had a bit of trouble, and went on our way, leaving Lef and Bill Klemm breathing out all sorts of threats," chuckled Frank.

"The little scamp," said Mrs. Allen, indignantly. "Either one of you might have been seriously injured. Husband, I insist that you see his father, and enter complaint against him. This has gone far enough, and should be stopped!"

Frank looked quickly toward his father.

"I hope you won't think it necessary, because among boys, you know, it is considered a point of honor to take care of their own battles. I'm going to settle with Lef soon for all I owe him," he said, gravely.

"And did you get that hurt on your left hand when the upset occurred?" continued Helen, showing that she had been observing what he had sought to conceal.

Frank turned a little red, and looked confused.

"I see that I might as well confess the whole thing, for there'll be no rest from her questions. No, that cut came later, while we were on the way back from Clifford," he said.

"That sounds as though you had another accident. Was that terrible boy to blame for that, too?" demanded the solicitous sister.

"No doubt of it. Somebody had been so kind as to stretch a wire cable across the river. They got it in the shed at the quarry. You know the river is narrow there, and the wire came down to about eight feet or more above the ice. It wasn't there when we went up; but we ran slap against it coming down."

"Oh! how awful! And what happened, Frank?" breathed the girl, her eyes fastened on the laughing face of her brother.

"Oh, we went over, all right. Something had to give, and it was our mast. We happened to be moving rather slowly at the time, and tacking across the river, so it fell to one side, and not on us. Of course we were tumbled off, and I cut the back of my left hand, either on some sharp ice, or a runner of the boat. After a bit we managed to get the mast stepped again in a way, and came home."

Mr. Allen shook his head seriously.

"It has got to stop, that's all there is to it. If that vicious boy keeps on he will do something terrible some day with his pranks."

Nothing more was said, and Frank hoped his father would let the matter drop. He had his own plans as to how he could settle his long overdue account with Lef Seller, and believed that the time was nearly ripe for an accounting.

Calling up some of the school athletic committee, he announced that he had brought back an acceptance to the challenge. It was quickly arranged that they come to his house and act upon it that very night. Time was valuable, since Christmas was almost upon them, and the match on the ice scheduled to take place on the second day after.

Presently, fellows began to arrive. Mrs. Allen and Helen, as was customary, prepared some cake and lemonade for refreshments after the meeting had been dismissed.

Of course there was much satisfaction over the prompt and manly acceptance of the challenge on the part of their up-river rivals.

"A little bombastic, fellows, don't you think?" remarked Jack Comfort, who was one of the Columbia Seven, and had likewise done good work in previous athletic contests that past season.

"Why not? Clifford has a right to feel stuck-up, hasn't she, over the work of her hockey team?" asked Roderic Seymour. "For five years they have skated circles around everything along the Harrapin. That's enough to make them feel proud and invincible. So much the more glory for us if we succeed in taking them down off their high horse."

Roderic was no longer a student in Columbia High, having graduated the previous year, and gone to college. He had been made an honorary member of the athletic committee, and being home a little early for the holidays, of course was present to join in the consultation.

"We're going to do that same thing, all right," declared the confident Lanky, who had also come around to the meeting, though not himself a member of the committee like Ralph West, Bones Shadduck, and Jack Comfort. "That is, unless I get knocked out before then, and you find it impossible to fill my place."

"What do you mean, Lanky?" demanded Jack, with a puzzled look.

"I'm nearly taking a fit over not being able to place a fellow I met to-day. I only know his name as Bill, and for the life of me I can't make up my mind just where I met him. Say, some of you just rattle off all the Bills you can think of. A word dropped might give me a clue, you know, and save me staying awake to-night."

"Well, we've got a whole raft of bills over at our house that you're welcome to, if they'd be any use to you," laughed Bones Shadduck.

The others began to mention a host of names, most of them boys of the town, with an occasional business man thrown in; but Lanky listening, shook his head sadly in the negative, as he remarked:

"No use, fellows; you can't help me out of the hole. I've just got to crack that old nut myself; and sooner or later I'll do it. Hello! there's a late comer, just in time to partake of the dregs of the lemonade, and eat the last bite of cake."

Frank went out of the room, and presently came back holding a letter.

"Here, Mr. Garrison, is a communication addressed to you. It was brought here because they evidently knew our committee was in session. Sometimes people listen over the 'phone, and hear a good many things. As the president of the committee it is up to you to read it first, and then let us hear."

The old graduate, who still loved Columbia, and served in many capacities, glanced over the communication, and then laughed out loud.

"Why," he said, "what do you think, boys? It's a challenge to our hockey team to play a game to-morrow morning!"

CHAPTER V

LANKY'S HARD LUCK

"It never rains but it pours!" cried Jack Comfort.

"Nothing but hockey in the air at present. Who's it from, Mr. Garrison?"

"That's easy to guess. I hear the Bellport fellows have been practicing some lately. They feel sore over the easy win by Clifford last year."

"Wrong in your guess, Bones. This is from the Castoff League!"

"What's that?" cried several in chorus, while looks were exchanged.

"The challenge is signed by seven names, and these constitute what they choose to call the Wanderer Hockey Team," continued the president.

Frank suddenly laughed as though he saw light.

"I don't know, Mr. President, but I've got a hunch that I could mention a few of the names on that paper," he remarked.

"Well, suppose you try, just to see," replied the other.

"How would Lef Seller, Bill Klemm, Tony Gilpin, Asa Barnes, and Watkins Kline answer?" queried Frank, promptly, while the others gasped.

"First rate, as far as you've gone. Well, Lef is the president of the Castoff League. He dares us to have a try with his team to-morrow, Saturday, morning, and promises to make it interesting for us if we accept," said Mr. Garrison.

He looked around at the faces of the gathered committee.

"It's up with you, gentlemen, to either accept or decline this challenge. If you asked my advice I'd suggest that you have nothing to do with the crowd Lef Seller has tagging after him. I've watched that boy a long time now, and never yet heard anything good of him."

"But they'd have the laugh on us if we declined," remarked Jack, shaking his head.

"And it would look as if we were afraid of the wonderful Wanderers," said Ralph West, one of Frank's most intimate chums, and a chap in whom young Allen had the deepest interest on account of certain strange occurrences connected with his life.

"Settle it in your own way; it's up to you," said the gentleman who presided, as he shrugged his shoulders. "I admit that I can't see things in quite the same light as you boys can. What do the rest of you say?"