THE JUNIOR TROPHY

BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.

• The Junior Trophy.
• Change Signals!
• For Yardley.
• Finkler’s Field.
• Winning His “Y.”
• The New Boy at Hilltop.
• Double Play.
• Forward Pass!
• The Spirit of the School.
• Four in Camp.
• Four Afoot.
• Four Afloat.
• The Arrival of Jimpson.
• Behind the Line.
• Captain of the Crew.
• For the Honor of the School.
• The Half-Back.
• On Your Mark.
• Weatherby’s Inning.

D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK.

[“‘Be careful,’ cautioned Ben, his teeth chattering.”]

THE
JUNIOR TROPHY

BY

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

AUTHOR OF
“CHANGE SIGNALS,” “FOR YARDLEY,” “THE HALF-BACK,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1913

Copyright, 1913, by

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE JUNIOR TROPHY

I
WHAT THE CAT BROUGHT IN

The train from the west that bore Bert Bryant to New York was two hours late, for all the way from Clinton, Ohio, where Bert lived, the snow had been from four inches to a foot in depth. Consequently he had missed the one o’clock train for Mt. Pleasant and had spent an hour with his face glued to a waiting-room window watching the bustle and confusion of New York. Now, at four o’clock, he was seated in a sleigh, his suit-case between his feet, winding up the long, snowy road to Mt. Pleasant Academy. In the front seat was the fur-clad driver and beside him was Bert’s small trunk.

It was very cold and fast growing dark. It seemed to Bert that they had been driving for miles and miles, and he wanted to ask the driver how much farther they had to go. But the man in the old bearskin coat was cross and taciturn, and so Bert buried his hands still deeper in his pockets and wondered whether his nose and ears were getting white. And just when he had decided that they were the sleigh left the main road with a sudden lurch, that almost toppled the trunk off, and turned through a gate and up a curving drive lined with snow-laden evergreens. Then the academy came into view, a rambling, comfortable-looking building with many cheerfully lighted windows looking out in welcome. At one of the windows two faces appeared in response to the warning of the sleigh bells and peered curiously down. The sleigh pulled up in front of a broad stone step and Bert clambered out, bag in hand. The driver lifted the trunk, opened the big oak door without ceremony, deposited his burden just inside and growled: “Fifty cents.”

Bert paid him, the door closed, the bells jingled diminishingly down the drive and Bert looked around. He was in a big hall from which a broad stairway ascended and from which doors opened on all sides. Through one of them he caught sight of four tables already set for supper. The hall was evidently a living-room as well, for a wood fire crackled in a big fireplace and easy chairs and couches were all around, while the floor was spread with a number of rugs of varying sizes whose deep colors added warmth to the room. Bert waited, drawing off his coat and gloves. Presently, as no one appeared, he went to the fireplace and held his numbed feet to the blaze. Somehow the place didn’t look like any school he had ever seen and he began to wonder whether by mistake he had stumbled into some one’s private house. But from above came unmistakable sounds; boys’ voices in laughter and the scurrying of feet. Bert began to study the many closed doors, intending presently, if no one came, to knock at one of them. But before he had made a choice some one did come.

A door behind him opened suddenly and a girl of about fourteen burst in, caught sight of the newcomer and paused in surprise. Bert turned and for a moment the two observed each other in frank curiosity.

What Bert saw was a girl in a sailor suit of some dark blue material, a girl with a pretty, animated face, blue eyes and golden-brown hair which at the back descended to her waist in a long braid. What the girl saw was a good-looking boy of her own age with a sturdy figure, a pleasant countenance, brown eyes and hair and a good supply of freckles.

“Hello,” she said finally.

“How do you do?” responded Bert.

“You’re the new junior, aren’t you?” she went on. “I forget your name. Mine’s Nan. Doctor Merton’s my father.”

“My name is Albert Bryant. I didn’t see anyone about——”

“Daddy’s talking with Mr. Crane in the office, mamma’s in the village and Mr. Folsom hasn’t come back yet. I’m all there is, you see, and so you’ll have to put up with me until daddy’s ready for you. I guess it was pretty cold driving up from the station, wasn’t it?”

“It was, rather,” acknowledged Bert, rubbing his fingers together. “My train was late in New York and I missed the train I was expecting to get.”

Nan nodded. “Lots of the boys were late. Two of them haven’t got here yet; Mr. Folsom, too. He lives in Syracuse and there’s been heaps of snow up that way. I like snow, though, don’t you? We’ve got a dandy toboggan slide. Do you like to toboggan?”

“I never tried it,” answered Bert. “I should think, though, it would be good fun.”

“It’s grand! Did the Pirate bring you up?”

“The Pirate?”

“Mr. Higgins. The boys call him the Pirate because he looks like one. I know he did, though, because he’s put your trunk as near the door as he could. He says he doesn’t get paid to handle trunks inside the house. Did you say your name was Albert?”

“Yes; Bert, though, usually.”

“I like that better,” she responded, seating herself on the arm of a chair and continuing to examine him calmly. “I shall call you Bert, though I suppose the boys will find a nickname for you pretty soon. Funny you came after Christmas recess. Why didn’t you come in the fall?”

“I was going to, but I got sick in September, and when I was well again it was too late. And mother thought I’d better wait and get quite well.”

“You don’t look sick now,” she said critically.

“I’m not. I never was sick before, not really sick, that is.”

“You’re to room with Ben Holden. I hope he will like you. He’s a senior.”

“Why don’t you hope I’ll like him?” laughed Bert.

Nan Merton raised her eyebrows. “Oh, that isn’t so important. You see, if Ben shouldn’t like you he might make your life a veritable burden.” (Bert soon discovered that Nan was fond of using queer phrases which she got out of the stories she read.) “He—he’s that sort, you know.”

“Is he? Well, I shouldn’t like to have my life a burden,” replied Bert with a smile. “How old is this chap?”

“Ben? He’s seventeen, I think. He’s one of the big boys. We have twelve here in the house, four seniors, two upper middlers, two lower middlers and three juniors; no, four now you’ve come. You see, the juniors sort of do what the seniors and upper middlers tell them to.”

“Oh! Well, suppose they didn’t?” asked Bert.

“Why—why—” But such a supposition seemed beyond Nan’s imagination. “They have to,” she said. There was the sound of a closing door somewhere. “Mr. Crane’s gone. Come on and I’ll take you to daddy.”

She led the way through the door by which she had entered, past a somewhat formal room furnished as a parlor, and down a hallway. This, as Bert guessed correctly, was the family’s part of the house. The office door was open and Bert followed Nan inside.

“Here’s the new boy, daddy,” she announced in businesslike tones. A middle-aged gentleman, grizzled of hair and comfortably stout, arose from his desk chair and turned to Bert with a kindly smile and outstretched hand.

“Glad to see you, Bryant. You had a pleasant journey, I hope. That was quite a trip for a boy of your age to make alone. Let me see, now, you’re fifteen, is it?”

“Fourteen, sir.”

“Ah, yes. And you’re going into the junior class. I remember. Well, Mrs. Merton is absent and so I’ll ask—hm, I forgot. I’ll show you your room myself. Later we’ll have a talk together. Come this way, Bryant.”

Bert rescued his bag, coat and cap in the hall and followed the Doctor up the stairs. In front of a partly opened door the Doctor paused and knocked.

“Come in!” called a voice gaily. When they entered Bert saw five boys lounging about the room. At sight of the Doctor, however, they sprang respectfully to their feet.

“Ben,” announced the Doctor, “this is your new room-mate, Albert Bryant. Bryant, this is Benson Holden. And here is Lovell, and Perkins and Pierce and Waters.” Bert shook hands all around somewhat embarrassedly. “Make Bryant at home, boys,” continued the Doctor. “One of you might give him a hand with his trunk, if you will. Everything all right, Ben?”

“Yes, sir, thank you.”

The Doctor withdrew and Bert was left facing the curious and critical glances of the older boys. It was Benson Holden who first broke the ensuing silence. Ben dropped on the bed, threw out his hands in utter despair and nodded at Bert.

“Look!” he wailed. “Look what the cat’s brought in!”

II
THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE

Bert didn’t like Ben. He came to that conclusion just twenty-four hours after his arrival at Mt. Pleasant Academy. Ben had had his room to himself all the fall and resented Bert’s appearance on the scene. He also resented having a junior put in with him. To be sure it was the custom at the academy to have the younger boys room with the older, but Ben, who had been there three years and a half, and was the oldest boy in the house, thought he ought to be exempt from such annoyances. And he didn’t scruple to let Bert understand that he was anything but welcome. Benson Holden was a big chap, big even for his seventeen years, with a dark, good-looking and somewhat arrogant face and a masterful manner where the younger boys were concerned. He had made up his mind, evidently, that if he must have Bert with him Bert was to pay in services. After Bert had been an occupant of Number 2 just half an hour it began. “Bryant, get my slippers out of the closet.” “Bryant, throw that towel over here. And be quick, too, kid!” “Put those shirts in my second drawer, Bryant, and put the bag in the closet. Don’t muss ’em up, now!” Bert very quietly obeyed, but he had already begun to do some thinking that was to bear fruit in the shape of action.

Later that evening the last two boys reached school. These were juniors, Tom Frye, nicknamed “Small,” and James Fairchild, alias “Kid.” With their arrival the roster of twelve pupils was complete. After supper was over, Bert had his talk with the Doctor in the office, and met Mrs. Merton, a sweet-faced woman whom the boys called Mother and worshiped devotedly. Later, too, he met the rest of the teaching force, Mr. Folsom and Mr. Crane, both youngish men, the former short, stout and pompous and the latter tall, cheerful and jolly. Before that first evening was past he had made friends with the three other members of his class, “Small” Frye, “Kid” Fairchild and Lansing Grey. He liked them all; and some of the older fellows were nice to him, notably Steve Lovell, upper middler. He saw nothing more of Nan that evening. The next morning studies began in the schoolrooms which occupied one end of the building. Besides the twelve boarders there were as many day pupils who came from Mt. Pleasant and Whittier and Riveredge, the nearby towns. Altogether Mt. Pleasant Academy cared for twenty-four boys. Bert got through the first day of lessons creditably enough, and at half past three was free for the rest of the afternoon.

Young Grey, known as “Lanny” for short, had taken a fancy to the new boy and after school took him on a tour of the building and grounds. Bert saw the gymnasium, above the schoolroom, the laboratory downstairs, the heating and lighting plant, the snow-covered athletic field and finally the two rinks where, by the time they arrived, some dozen and a half fellows were hard at work practising hockey.

“That’s the House Team over there,” explained Lanny. “Ben’s captain. This is the Day Team. The captain’s that short, round-faced fellow, Billy Spooner. The first match comes off a week from next Saturday. Do you play hockey?”

Bert shook his head. “No, I never tried it. Do you?”

“Yes, and if Ben was fair he’d give me a chance on the House Team. I can play a heap better than Cupples.”

“Won’t he let you play?” asked Bert.

“No, I’m a junior. All juniors are good for is to run errands and fetch and carry. It makes me tired.”

“I guess it’s going to make me tired, too, pretty soon,” said Bert. “Seems to me I’ve been on the go for Holden or Gardner about every minute since I got here.”

Lanny nodded. “Yes, they always take it out of a new fellow. Good work, Dick!” They had stopped at the barrier beyond which, on the smooth surface of hard ice, the House Hockey Team was practising, and Lanny’s shout of praise had been elicited by a clever stop at goal by Dick Gardner. “He’s a dandy goal-tend,” explained Lanny. “Never gets rattled for a minute.”

“What has he got on his legs?” asked Bert.

“Leg-guards. That puck is pretty hard when it hits. There’s Small over there; and Kid, too. Let’s go over.”

But at that moment Ben Holden, swinging by, caught sight of the two boys and skated up to the boards.

“Say, Bryant, run up to the room, will you, and find a pair of hockey gloves on the table. I forgot them.”

“I’m tired, Holden,” replied Bert quietly. “Send some one else.”

Ben stared in surprise. Then he frowned and, leaning over the barrier, seized Bert’s ear. “Tired, eh? Well, you forget that, kid, and run along and do as I tell you. You’re much too fresh for this place.”

Bert jerked away, rubbed the ear and smiled sweetly. “I’d like mighty well to know what you did before I came, Holden,” he said. “I’m wearing my shoes out running errands for you.”

“Are you going?” demanded Ben threateningly.

“No, I’m not!”

“I’ll get them,” volunteered Lanny Grey.

“All right,” said Ben, “but get a move on. They’re on the table or the bureau or somewhere there. As for you,” he added, scowling at Bert, “I’ll teach you to do as you’re told before you’ve been here much longer.”

Bert turned away without reply and, while Lanny sped back to the house, walked around the rink to where the other two juniors, Kid and Small, were standing. They greeted him eagerly.

“What was the row over there?” asked Small.

“Nothing much. Holden wanted me to run and get his gloves from the room and I said I was too tired.”

The others looked at Bert in mingled amazement and admiration.

“Gee!” breathed Kid. “You’ll get it!”

“What for?” demanded Bert defiantly.

“For not shacking,” replied Kid with a knowing shake of his blond head. Small nodded affirmatively and eyed Bert with sympathy.

“Why should I?” asked Bert. “I didn’t come here to shack, as you fellows call it, for every chap in school. Let them run their own errands!”

“I wish they would,” sighed Kid. “Stanley Pierce says I’ve got to work on the toboggan slide after supper.”

“We all have to,” said Small gloomily. “And my hands get so cold and my feet ache so——!”

“What do you mean?” Bert questioned. “Who has to work where?”

“Juniors and lower middlers have to fix up the slide after supper,” explained Small. “Put snow on the boards and wet it down so it will freeze to-night.”

Bert turned and regarded the slide which began back of the house and swept down the hill to the meadow beyond. He shook his head. “I shall be very busy this evening,” he said. “Sorry.”

“But you’ll have to!” exclaimed Small in horrified tones. “It—it’s the rule.”

“Who made the rule? I didn’t see it in the catalogue.”

“Of course not, but it’s a rule just the same. And it isn’t so hard. In fact, it’s sort of fun—if the weather isn’t very cold.”

“Well, the weather is cold to-day,” responded Bert. “Much too cold for me to go out after supper.”

“You’ll go, just the same,” said Kid with a grin.

“I think not,” replied Bert quietly. “Not only that, but I’ve made up my mind that after this I’m not going to shack for any one.”

“You can’t help yourself,” said Small. “Of course, you’re new here and don’t understand, but the juniors always shack for the seniors and upper middlers. It—it’s always been done.”

“Not by me,” replied Bert, cheerfully. “The rest of you can do it if you like, but I’ve quit.”

“But—but—” stammered Kid, “they—they’ll do things to you!”

“What sort of things, Fairchild?”

Kid stared blankly at Small and Small shook his head at a loss. “I don’t know,” said Kid finally, “because no fellow has ever—ever——”

“Mutinied?” suggested Bert with a smile.

“They’ll fix you somehow, though,” said Small darkly. At that moment Lanny Grey joined them and Kid breathlessly told him of the new boy’s rash resolve. Lanny listened in silence, frowning the while. Then,

“Good stuff!” he growled. “They make me tired. I ran my legs off all the fall and I’m sick of it. Just now I went all the way to the house for Ben’s gloves and they weren’t there. And when I came back and told him so he said I was a ninny. What is a ‘ninny’?”

“Idiot,” said Small.

“Dunce,” said Kid.

“Let him find his own gloves then,” growled Lanny. “I’ve a good mind to quit, too.” He looked doubtfully at Bert.

“Let’s all quit,” suggested Bert cheerfully. “Let’s make a declaration of independence. They can’t punish us all, you know. And even if they do make it warm for us we can stand it, I guess. What do you say, you fellows?”

There was a moment of silence. Lanny looked from Small to Kid. Then, although he found little encouragement in their countenances, he thrust his hands resolutely into his pockets.

“I’m with you!” he said.

“And me!” cried Kid excitedly. Kid was only thirteen years old but of the stuff of which heroes are made. Only Small hesitated longer. “What—what do you suppose they’ll do to us?” he asked.

Lanny shrugged his shoulders.

“Pull our ears, probably. Cuff us a bit. I don’t know, and I don’t care. But Bryant’s right. If we stand together this shacking business has got to stop. And to-night there’s the slide to fix, too.”

“Bryant says he isn’t going to,” murmured Small awedly.

“I’m not,” said Bert. “I have a very delicate constitution and the night air is extremely bad for it.” Lanny grinned.

“Me, too. The doctor has told me to stay indoors after dark.”

“Do you fellows really mean it?” asked Small doubtfully.

“We do,” answered Lanny. “Are you with us?”

Small’s eyes grew very big and round with contemplation of the awfulness of what he was pledging himself to, but he answered promptly, even if his voice shook a little, “Yes!”

“Good!” said Bert. “Now let’s go back to the house and draw up a proclamation. We must do this thing right, you know.”

When, an hour later, darkness drove the House Team from the rink and they came stamping into the hall the proclamation, imposingly inscribed on a sheet of cardboard, confronted them from the mantel. It was George Waters who first saw it and, having perused the first paragraph, broke into a laugh.

“Hi, fellows! Come over here!” he called. “Read this. It’s killing!”

The others gathered around in front of the fireplace and this is what they read:

PROCLAMATION!

Know all men by these Presents that we, the Junior Grade members of this Academy, in solemn conclave gathered, hereby declare and resolve that all men are created free and equal; that the custom of shacking so long extant in this institution is unjust, unwise and degrading; that said custom or practice is a base survival of an undemocratic custom pertaining to the educational institutions of Great Britain, whose yoke we so gloriously renounced in 1776; that hereafter shacking shall be abolished in this school.

For the support of this Declaration we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our Sacred Honor. God defend the right!

Albert Payson Bryant,
Lansing Stone Grey,
Thomas Kirkwood Frye,
James Fairchild.

P.S. After this when you fellows want anything done you’ll have to do it yourself.

III
REVOLT

“It’s that young Bryant that’s at the bottom of it,” growled Ben Holden. “He’s the freshest kid I ever saw.”

“Young rascals!” laughed Steve Lovell.

“I guess we’d better find them,” observed Dick Gardner grimly, “and convince them of the—er—error of their way.”

“Rather!” said Waters. “Come on. I guess they’re upstairs.”

“Wait a bit,” counseled Stanley Pierce. “The best thing to do is to make believe we haven’t seen this at all. Just leave it here and let on we don’t know anything about it. Then, when we go up, each of us will think of something we want done. See? I left my algebra in the gym. I’ll send Kid for it. When he comes back one of you fellows send him for something else. We’ll keep them busy until supper time and nip this—this revolt in the bud.”

“All right,” agreed Ben doubtfully. He was always a bit doubtful, or seemed so, of advice not given by himself. So they all trooped upstairs, all save Sewall Crandall and Harold Cupples, who, being lower middlers and but lately emancipated from the iron heel of upper-classdom held a sneaking sympathy for the mutineers.

“Plucky kids, eh?” whispered Crandall, with a grin.

Cupples agreed, adding, however, “They’re making a lot of trouble for themselves, though.”

Meanwhile the four seniors and the two upper middlers had climbed the stairs. To their surprise none of the mutineers were to be found. Every room was empty. “Try the gym,” suggested Pierce, and the gymnasium was tried without results. Likewise the schoolroom. Then the search was given over. “They’ll have to come back some time,” said Holden. “And then we’ll get ’em.”

One of the places they didn’t look was the parlor. Had they walked in there after reading the proclamation they would not only have found the four missing juniors but would very likely have upset the equilibrium of Mr. James Fairchild, who, against the remonstrances of his fellow conspirators, held his ear to the keyhole.

After the tyrants had stamped upstairs, Bert, who during the momentous period had reclined calmly on the brocaded divan, sat up, thrust his hands into his pockets and frowned thoughtfully. “I guess we made a mistake, fellows,” he said. “We ought to have been upstairs. They’ll think now that we’re afraid of them. And we aren’t.”

“Not a bit!” declared Lanny stoutly, glancing apprehensively at the hall door.

“N-no,” murmured Small nervously.

“So let’s go up now and face them, eh?” Bert said.

Dead silence greeted this suggestion. Lanny whistled softly and seemed to be giving the plan careful consideration. Small became deeply interested in the snow-covered and lamp-lighted drive and Kid, catching Bert’s eye, winked mischievously.

“Sure,” he said, “let’s go up and defy them!”

“That’s all well enough for you,” said Small. “You’re such a little fellow that they won’t hurt you!”

“I’m only a year younger than you are,” replied Kid warmly, “and I’m ’most as big. You’re afraid, that’s what’s the matter with you!”

“Cut it out, you two,” said Lanny. “What time is it?”

Bert peered at the ornate clock on the mantel. “’Most six,” he answered. “We’ve got to go up pretty soon, whether we want to or not.”

That couldn’t be denied.

“Perhaps we’d better go now,” said Lanny. “It will look better. I kind of wish, though, we hadn’t added that postscript at the last; it sounds awfully cheeky.”

“Well, whose idea was it?” demanded Small. “I told you not to do it.”

“Oh, we might as well be killed for sheep as lambs,” remarked Bert cheerfully. “Come on, fellows; brace up; they can’t kill us. But remember, now, no shacking!”

“Let’s talk about something on the way up,” said Lanny. “It—it’ll sound as though we weren’t scared.”

“Talk about me,” chirped up Kid pertly. “I’m awfully interesting.”

“Talk about the skating races Saturday,” said Lanny. “There’s a race for juniors, you know. Who’s going in for it?”

With that Bert opened the door and the four crossed the hall with a bit of a swagger and mounted the stairs, talking volubly but very much at random.

“It’s a quarter of a mile,” said Lanny, “and I think that’s too short, don’t you?”

“I must have my skates ground,” said Kid.

“Why don’t they have a handicap race?” asked Bert.

“The mile is sure to go to Ben,” said Small. “He’s a peach of a skater.” Small’s voice was unnecessarily loud and Bert turned to him with a frown.

“Quit swiping, Frye,” he hissed, adding in an equally penetrating voice: “I shouldn’t think Holden could skate much; he looks so awkward.”

Small shuddered. Then they parted to seek their own rooms.

“Well, where have you been?” growled Ben as Bert entered Number 2. “I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour.”

“Oh, just around,” replied Bert vaguely.

“Well, find my slippers for me.”

“Oh, no,” answered Bert. “We’re not doing that any more. It’s out of fashion.”

Ben glared fearsomely. “We’ll see whether it’s out of fashion, my fresh young kid!” He arose and started around the table after Bert. Bert held his ground, although I’m not pretending that he was quite easy of mind.

“You touch me, Holden,” he said evenly, “and I’ll kick your shins. I’ve given you fair warning.”

Then Ben seized him, Bert kicked him and there was a very pretty little fracas for a minute or two, from which Bert emerged somewhat breathless and unscathed and Ben with one painful contusion on his left shin. For Ben, in spite of his bullying proclivities, was not cruel, and had only sought to tweak Bert’s ears. Still, it wouldn’t do to acknowledge defeat, and so as he drew off he said in a fierce tone: “Now, then, find those slippers!”

But Bert shook his head. “Can’t, Holden; I’ve joined the union. Didn’t you read the proclamation?”

“I don’t care about any proclamation,” replied Ben wrathfully. “You get those slippers!”

“No, I won’t. What’s more, Holden, I’m through running errands and waiting on you. I didn’t come here to be any fellow’s servant.”

“It’s the—the custom here, Bryant, and you’ve got to do it!”

“I don’t approve of the custom,” answered Bert coolly. “It’s a very silly one. Why should I wait on you any more than you on me?”

“Because you’re a junior and I’m a senior. I’m older than you, and——”

“If you’re older you’re also stronger,” said Bert, “and so you’re better able to do things than I am. Anyway, I’m through. And so are the others. We’ve struck.”

“We’ll see about that, you fresh kid! Once more, now; I shan’t ask you again; will you get those slippers?”

“For the last time, Holden, I won’t.”

“Very well. You’ll be mighty sorry, though.” Ben took refuge in dignity. “It isn’t likely that we’re going to stand for having a new boy come in here—and disrupt the school. We—we’ll deal with you later.”

Bert, without replying, washed for supper, and a moment later the bell rang. Ben went down to the dining-room in his shoes. The twelve boys sat at two tables, the seniors and upper middlers at one, presided over by Mr. Folsom, and the lower middlers and juniors at the other, under the supervision of Mr. Crane. Doctor Merton, with his wife and daughter, occupied a small table at the end of the room. Whispering was not countenanced, and so the mutineers could not compare notes. Lanny looked flustered and defiant, Kid excited and happy and Small worried. Once Bert encountered Nan’s eyes across the room and received a look that he couldn’t fathom, not knowing that Nan had learned of the mutiny and was doing her best to convey to him that she was just terribly excited and was dying to hear all about it. Then Mr. Crane, helping the last portion of cold roast beef, remarked:

“Well, you boys want to eat plenty, you know. There’s hard work ahead this evening.”

This pleasantry elicited no response and he pretended to be surprised. As a matter of fact, Mr. Crane had found the proclamation on the mantel, had laughed over it with Mr. Folsom and had subsequently taken it to Doctor Merton.

“Eh?” he went on. “Isn’t this the night we fix the slide, Crandall?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so,” replied Crandall.

“I thought so. Well, there’s plenty of snow. Last year you had rather hard work, if I remember.”

“Yes, sir, we did.”

“How are you with a snow shovel, Bryant; pretty husky?”

“Only fair, sir. No good at all after dark.”

“How’s that?”

Bert shook his head. “I hardly know how to explain it, sir,” he replied, “but I can’t seem to hold a shovel in the evening.”

“Dear, dear! Quite remarkable, Bryant. You must have a new sort of disease.” Kid was grinning delightedly. “Well, you haven’t any trouble of that sort, have you, Fairchild?”

“I’m afraid I have,” piped the boy. “The thought of a snow-shovel makes me quite ill, sir.”

“Good gracious! The disease is catching! And you, Grey? Are you experiencing the symptoms, too?”

“Yes, sir,” muttered Lanny.

“What? Why, this is—is surprising! I must ask the Doctor to look into it. Frye, you—don’t tell me you have it, too!”

Small looked at his plate and nodded silently. Mr. Crane leaned back in his chair astounded.

“Well, well! But let’s learn the worst, Crandall?”

“No, sir,” replied Crandall with a grin.

“Ah! And Cupples?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“Good! There is hope! But what about the slide? You don’t think, Bryant, that you could—ah—overcome this—this aversion?”

“No, sir,” answered Bert cheerfully. “It has a firm hold on me.”

“Really! And I can see by your countenance, Grey, that you, too, are past recovery. And Frye, and Fairchild. Why, it looks to me as though Crandall and Cupples would have to do all the work. That’s too bad.”

“I’m willing to do my share,” said Crandall, “but I don’t propose to go out there and cover that slide alone.”

“But you’ll have Cupples to help you.”

“Not much, Mr. Crane. What’s the matter with the upper grade fellows doing it?”

“Tut, tut, Cupples! You surely wouldn’t propose that seriously? Why, they might get their feet cold!”

“I guess they have the same disease we have,” said Kid.

“Um; maybe; perhaps another form of it. Well, things look bad for the slide, don’t they? Perhaps the Doctor and Mr. Folsom and I will have to attend to it this time.”

Kid grinned at the idea. “I’d like to see you,” he said.

After supper, in the hall, Pierce remarked pleasantly:

“Well, juniors and lowers, this is the night we fix the toboggan slide, you know.”

“Do you?” asked Kid interestedly. “May I come and watch you, Dick?”

A roar of laughter greeted this, even Ben being obliged to smile.

“You may come and get busy with a shovel and pail, little smarty,” responded Gardner. “And all the rest of you. Now get a move on, for you’ve only got about an hour before prayers.”

But Kid shook his head. “No, thanks. It’s too cold out there, Dick. The doctor said I must be very careful of my health and avoid night air.”

Gardner frowned and glanced inquiringly at the others. Ben came to his support.

“You fellows think you’re awfully smart, I suppose,” he said, “but you’re making fools of yourselves. Either you go out and get that slide ready or you keep off it altogether. It’s either work or no tobogganing for you chaps.”

“I’d like to know when we’d get a show at it, anyway,” said Lanny. “You fellows would be using it all the time. It would be just like the rinks. A lot of fun we juniors get there!”

“You’re entitled to use the rinks whenever we aren’t practising,” said Ben.

“What of that? You always are practising!”

“Then you can use the slide,” said Steve Lovell. “Come on, Lanny, don’t be silly.”

“No, sir, we aren’t going to fix that slide,” responded Lanny, emphatically. “We aren’t going to do any more errands for anyone, or any more shacking.”

“You mean you won’t fix that slide?” demanded Ben.

“That’s what I mean!”

“We’ll be glad to go out and help,” remarked Bert calmly, “if you fellows will do your share. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?”

“You’ll do it all or it won’t be done,” snapped Ben.

“Then it won’t be done,” said Bert.

The upper grade fellows went into secret session in front of the fireplace. Crandall and Cupples attempted to persuade the youngsters to give in, but without success. Then Ben announced the ultimatum.

“We are going to fix that slide ourselves,” he said sternly, “and if we catch any of you juniors sliding on it we’ll wallop you good and hard. Come on, fellows!”

IV
THE FIRST SKIRMISH

The war was on.

The juniors may be said to have won the first skirmish, for the upper grade fellows, assisted by the two lower middlers, labored the better part of an hour that night, shoveling and carrying snow to the wooden part of the toboggan slide and subsequently sprinkling it with water so that it might freeze over night into a good foundation for further improvements; and this without help from the mutineers, who from the darkened windows of Small’s room, watched the work in warmth and comfort.

“First blood for our side,” murmured Kid gleefully.

When the workers returned with benumbed fingers and ice-coated boots it was evident that their attitude toward the offending juniors was to be one of silent contempt. Bert, Lanny, Small and Kid were absolutely ignored by all save Cupples and Crandall, who, so far, observed a difficult neutrality. During study hour Bert and Ben sat at opposite sides of the green-topped table and exchanged never a word, Bert deciding ruefully toward the end of the evening that much of that sort of thing would probably become very tiresome.

In the morning the revolutionists gained a convert. The convert was Nan. Nan was greatly excited and very enthusiastic. And she assured Bert and Lanny, who had gone out after breakfast to slide down the short coast afforded by the sloping driveway, that she was heart and soul with the Cause. They must never give in, she declared. She also said many other things about Tyranny, the Despot’s Heel, Right and Justice and Suffering for a Principle. The latter phrase misled Lanny until Nan explained that she was not referring to her father. Her words sounded very fine and the two boys were quite heartened. They had not thought of the thing as a Cause before and now Lanny began to look quite noble and heroic, or as noble and heroic as it is possible to look with a green plaid Mackinaw jacket and ear-muffs.

“What you must do, though,” continued Nan, sinking her voice to a sort of frozen whisper, “is to form a Society!”

“What sort of a society?” asked Bert.

“Why, a—a Society for Mutual Help and Protection.”

“Oh!” murmured Lanny, much impressed. “How would you do it?”

“Just—just do it, silly! I tell you what; come to the stable after morning school and organize. And meanwhile I’ll think up a good name for the Society. You must bring Small and Kid, too, you know. And you must have a password and—and a grip.”

“We’ll have the grippe all right if we sit around the stable long,” said Lanny. “It’s as cold in there as—as——”

“A barn,” suggested Bert. “All right, we’ll be there, Miss Merton, right after school.”

“What do you call her Miss Merton for?” asked Lanny after Nan had hurried indoors again. “Her name’s Nan; except when you want to get her mad, and then it’s Nancy.”

“Well, I don’t know her very well yet,” answered Bert in excuse. “She seems a pretty good sort.”

“She is. She’s all right—for a girl. Girls always want to stick their noses into things, though. Just as though we couldn’t get up a society without her help!”

“Well, we wouldn’t have thought of it, I guess. And I’m glad she did. It’ll be rather fun, won’t it?”

“Sure. It must be a secret society, too. And we’ll vote for officers.”

This settled, they went on with the matter in hand, which was to start at the corner of the house and see how far they could make their sleds go around the corner into the road.

At ten minutes past twelve the four crept into the stable with appropriate stealthiness and found Nan already there. She led the way into the harness room, closed and locked the door and took command of the situation. There was a stove in the harness room, but as there was no fire in it it couldn’t be said to help the situation much. It was undoubtedly cold and Small remarked sarcastically that he didn’t see why the hall wasn’t good enough.

“Because,” replied Nan scathingly, “you can’t form a Secret Society with the whole world hearing every word you say. You’d be surrounded by your enemies in the hall.”

“I’d be surrounded by some heat, anyway,” muttered Small ungraciously.

“Dry up, Small,” commanded Lanny. “Now, then, what’s the first thing, Nan?”

“Choose a name. I’ve thought of several that might do. What do you think of ‘The League of Emancipators’?”

“Um,” said Bert. “But I think something shorter would be better.”

“Well, then, there’s ‘The Secret Four.’”

“What’s the matter with ‘The Four’?” asked Small.

“‘The Junior Four’ sounds pretty well,” Bert suggested. And the rest agreed that it did, Nan concurring and nobly striving to hide her disappointment over the fact that her names had been rejected.

“‘The Junior Four’ it is, then,” said Lanny briskly, breathing on his fingers to warm them. “Now what?”

“A password,” said Nan. “I couldn’t think of anything very—very striking.”

“Justice!” suggested Lanny.

“No surrender!” said Small.

“Non plus ultra!” piped Kid.

“You’re a goose,” laughed Nan. “That means ‘None better.’”

“I know what it means,” replied Kid. “I guess I’ve studied as much Latin as you have.”

“I guess you haven’t!” responded Nan indignantly. “The idea!”

“I’ve got a good one,” interrupted Lanny, who had been scowling ferociously at the stove. “‘All for one, one for all!’”

“You got that out of ‘The Three Musketeers,’” charged Small. “And, anyway, it’s ‘One for all and all for one.’”

“It is not! Is it, Bert?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds all right. ‘One for all and all for one.’”