The Crimson Sweater Page 6

  CHAPTER V

  CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF

  Roy had stayed to speak to Mr. Buckman after the geometry class had beendismissed, and so, when he reached the entrance of the hall on his wayout, he found the broad granite steps well lined with boys. Nearly aweek had passed since the hazing episode and the beginning of thepresent ostracism, and during that period Roy had become, if not used toit, at least in a measure inured. The smaller boys--the Juniors--werethe worst, and they, Roy felt certain, were being constantly egged on byHorace Burlen and his chums, of whom Otto Ferris was apparently theclosest. Horace himself refrained from active animosity. When he met Royhe pretended to consider the latter beneath notice and did no more thansneer as he turned his head away. But Otto never allowed an opportunityto be mean to escape him. And to-day, an opportunity presenting itself,he seized upon it.

  Roy, looking straight ahead, passed down the steps, trying hard toforget that well nigh every eye was fixed upon him. He had reached thelast step but one and the ordeal was almost over when Otto saw hischance. The next instant Roy had measured his length on the gravel pathbelow and his books and papers lay scattered about him. He scrambled tohis feet with blazing cheeks and eyes and strode toward Otto. Thelatter, too, got to his feet, but showed no overmastering desire to meetthe other. Instead he retreated a step and began to look anxious.

  "You tripped me up," charged Roy angrily.

  "Who tripped you up?" asked Otto. "You fell over my foot. You ought tolook where you're going."

  Some of the older boys, their sympathies aroused by Roy's fall, movedbetween the two. The youngsters gave vocal support to Otto untilcommanded to "cut it out." Roy attempted to push by one of the boys, butwas restrained.

  "Run along, Porter," counselled the peacemaker. "It was a shabby trick,but you won't do any good by scrapping."

  "Supposing you keep out of it," suggested Roy angrily.

  "Now don't you get fresh," answered the other warmly. "You can't scraphere, so run along as I told you. I dare say you only got what wascoming to you."

  "He deserved it, the sneak!" cried Otto, who, divided from the enemy bystrong defences, had recovered his bravery. Roy heard and threwdiscretion to the winds. He ducked under the arm of the boy in front ofhim and had almost reached Otto when he was caught and dragged back.Otto, standing his ground because he could not retreat, looked vastlyrelieved. Roy struggled in the grasp of his captors.

  "You let me go!" he cried. "It's none of your affair. Why don't you lethim look after himself, you bullies?"

  "That'll do for you, freshie," responded one of the older boys namedFernald. "Don't you call names or you'll get in trouble."

  "You'd better do as he says," counselled a quiet voice at Roy's side."There wouldn't be any satisfaction in licking Ferris, anyway; he's justa coward. Come along and pick up your books."

  There was something quietly compelling in the voice, and Roy, ceasing tostruggle, looked about panting into the round, good-humored face of aboy of about his own age.

  "Come on," said the boy softly. And Roy went.

  Together they rescued the scattered books and papers, while on the stepsdiscussion broke out stormily; Otto was being "called down" by the olderboys and volubly defended by the youngsters.

  When the books were once more under his arms Roy thanked his new friendand, without a glance toward the group on the steps, turned toward thedormitory. When he had gone a few steps he became aware of the fact thatthe round-faced boy was beside him and looked about in surprise.

  "I'm going your way," said the other smilingly. "Going to get mysweater on and go out in the canoe awhile. Do you paddle?"

  "No, I never tried it," answered Roy, rubbing the blood from hisknuckles where they had been scraped on the gravel and shooting apuzzled glance at the other.

  "Well, never too late to learn," responded his companion cheerfully."Come along down and take a lesson. It's a dandy day for a paddle."

  "Thanks, but I've got to study a bit."

  "Oh, leave that until to-night. No practice, is there?"

  "No, most of the fellows went to Maitland with the first eleven."

  "Maitland will beat us, probably. We always lose the first two or threegames. Why didn't they take you along?"

  "Didn't need me, I guess. Bacon is the regular quarter, you know."

  "Yes, but I don't see why they need to play him all through the firstgame. Well, here we are. Get a sweater or something on and meet me downhere."

  They had paused on the landing outside the Junior Dormitory and Royhesitated. Then,

  "You live here, do you?" he asked.

  "Yes, I have a corner bed by the window, and last year, when they wantedto put me upstairs, I kicked. So they let me stay; told me I could beuseful keeping an eye on the kids. You'll come, eh?"

  "Well, I--I guess so. It's good of you to ask me."

  "Not a bit. I hate to go alone; that's all."

  He turned smilingly into the dormitory and Roy went on upstairs, got ridof his books and scrambled into his red sweater. It wasn't necessary topass School Hall on the way down to the river, and Roy was glad of it.He felt that in losing his temper and slanging the older fellows on thesteps he had also lost ground. Instead of making friends he had possiblymade one or two new enemies. Then the realization that the boy besidehim was showing himself more of a friend than any other fellow inschool, with the possible exception of Jack Rogers, brought comfort,and, in a sudden flush of gratitude, he turned and blurted:

  "It was mighty nice of you to take my part and I'm awfully muchobliged."

  "Shucks, that wasn't anything! I'm always for the under dog, anyhow--ifyou don't mind being called a dog."

  "No," answered Roy. Then he added a trifle bitterly, "I guess some ofthem call me worse than that."

  "Oh, they'll get over it," was the cheerful reply. "Just you pay noattention to 'em, mind your own affairs and look as though you didn'tgive a rap."

  "That's what Laurence said," replied Roy thoughtfully.

  "Sensible chap, Laurence," said the other smilingly. "Who might he be?"

  "My brother. He's in Harvard."

  "Oh, yes, I remember some one said your brother was 'Larry' Porter, theHarvard football man. I guess that's how you happen to put up such adandy game yourself, eh?"

  "I don't think I've done very well," answered Roy. "But--it hasn't beenall my fault."

  "Nonsense! You've played like an old stager; every fellow says that."

  "Really?" asked Roy eagerly.

  "Of course! I've heard lots of the fellows say that Bacon will have todo better than he ever has done to keep his place. And I know what youmean about its not being all your fault. But I guess the chaps on yoursquad will behave themselves after the dressing down Jack gave them theother day."

  "Were you there?"

  "No, I don't very often watch practice. I don't care much for football,I'm afraid. Baseball's my game. No, I wasn't there, but Sid Welch wastelling me about it. Sid's a very communicative kid."

  "He's trying to make the team," said Roy, smiling. "He asked me one dayif drinking vinegar would make him thinner."

  "He's a funny little chump," laughed the other. "Not a bad sort, either.He has the bed next to mine, and he and I are pretty good chums. By theway, you didn't tell me what it was your brother said."

  "Oh, why, he said once that if I wanted to get on I must keep a stiffupper lip and mind my own affairs. And--and he said 'when you're downon your luck or up against a bigger fellow grin as hard as you cangrin.'"

  "'Of course I wasn't christened Chub.'"]

  "Good for him!" cried the other. "I'd like to meet him. That's what Isay, too. No use in looking glum because you're put out at the plate.Just smile and keep your mouth shut, and likely as not you'll make goodthe next time. Besides, if the other chap sees you looking worried itmakes him feel bigger and better. Yes, that's good advice, all right. Bythe way, I know your name, but I guess you don't know mine; it's ChubEaton."

  "Ar
e you a Senior?"

  "Same as you, Second Senior. Of course, I wasn't christened Chub; myreal name's Tom; but the fellows began calling me Chub the first year Iwas here because I was kind of fat then, and I didn't mind. So it stuck.Well, here's the canoe. Just give me a hand, will you? We'll put herover the end of the float."

  The boat house was deserted, but out in mid-stream was a pair-oar and arowboat, the latter well filled. Roy helped in the launching and soonthey were afloat.

  "It's an awful handsome canoe, isn't it?" asked Roy.

  "Pretty fair. I thought the color would fetch you; it's just a match foryour sweater. Got the paddle? Well, try your hand at it. Just stick itin and push it back. You'll get the hang after a bit. We'll get outaround the island so as to catch the breeze. I hate calm water."

  It was a glorious afternoon. September was drawing to a close and therewas already a taste of October in the fresh breeze that ruffled thewater as soon as they had swung the crimson craft around the lower endof Fox Island. Toward the latter the owner of the craft waved hispaddle.

  "That's where we have fun April recess," he said. "If you know what'sgood you'll stay here instead of going home. We camp out there foralmost a week and have more fun than you can shake a stick at. Hammondusually comes over and tries to swipe our boats, and two years ago wehad a regular battle with them. Take it easier, or you'll get soremuscles. That's better."

  Roy obeyed directions and soon discovered that paddling if done theright way is good fun. Before the Autumn was gone he had attained toquite a degree of proficiency and was never happier than when out in thecanoe. But to-day his muscles, in spite of training, soon began to ache,and he was glad when the boy at the stern suggested that they let thecraft drift for a while. Presently, Roy having turned around verycautiously, they were taking their ease in the bottom of the canoe, thewater _lap-lapping_ against the smooth crimson sides, the sunlightslanting across the glinting ripples and the cool down-river breezemaking the shelter of the boat quite grateful. They talked of all sortsof things, as boys will at first meeting, and as they talked Roy had hisfirst good chance to look his newly-found friend over.

  Chub Eaton was sixteen, although he looked fully a year older. He wassomewhat thick-set, but not so much so that he was either slow orawkward. He was undeniably good-looking, with a good-humored face, fromwhich a pair of bright, alert brown eyes sparkled. His hair was brown,too, a brown that just escaped being red, but which did not in the leastremind Roy of Harry's vivid tresses. Chub looked to be in the fittestphysical condition and the coat of tan that covered his face and handsmade Roy seem almost pale in comparison. Chub had an easy, self-assuredway of doing things that Roy couldn't help admiring, and was a bornleader. These same qualities were possessed by Roy to a lesser extent,and that, as the friendship grew and ripened between the two, they neverhad a falling-out worthy of the name, proves that each must have had awell-developed sense of fairness and generosity. As I have said, theirconversation touched on all sorts of subjects, and finally it got aroundto Horace Burlen.

  "Horace has the whole school under his thumb," explained Chub. "You see,in the first place he is Emmy's nephew, and the fellows have an ideathat that makes a difference with Emmy. I don't believe it does, forEmmy's mighty fair; and besides, I've seen him wade into Horace good andhard. But he's school leader, all right. The Juniors do just aboutwhatever he tells 'em to and are scared to death for fear he will eat'em up. It's awfully funny, the way he bosses things. I don't believethere are half a dozen fellows in school who wouldn't jump into theriver if Horace told them to. And the worst of it is, you know, he isn'tthe best fellow in the world to be leader."

  "How about you?" asked Roy. "You're not one of his slaves, are you?"

  "Me? Bless you, no! Horace and I had our little scrap two years ago andsince then he has given me up for lost. Same way with Jack Rogers.Jack's the only chap that can make Horace stand around. Jack could havetaken the lead himself if he'd wanted to, but the only thing he thinksof is football. Horace hates him like poison, but he makes believe helikes him. You see, Horace was up for captain this year and would havegot it, too, if Johnny King hadn't made a lot of the team promise lastFall to vote for Jack. It wasn't exactly fair, I guess, but Johnny knewthat Horace would never do for football captain. So that's the reasonHorace has it in for him."

  "Well, he will never get me to lick his boots for him," said Roydecisively.

  Chub looked at him smilingly a moment. Then,

  "No, I don't believe he will. But you'll have a hard row to hoe for awhile, for Horace can make it mighty unpleasant for a chap if he wantsto."

  "He's done it already," answered Roy.

  "Oh, that's nothing," was the cheerful reply. "Wait till he gets togoing. He can be mighty nasty when he tries. And he can be fairlydecent, too. He isn't a coward like Otto Ferris, you see; he's got alot of good stuff in him, only it doesn't very often get out."

  "He's a Second Senior, isn't he?"

  "Yes, he's been here six years already, too. He isn't much on study, andEmmy gets ripping mad with him sometimes. Two years ago he didn't passand Emmy told him he'd keep him in the Second Middle for six years if hedidn't do better work. So Horace buckled down that time and moved up.Well, say, we paddle back. You stay where you are if you're tired; I canmake it against this little old tide all right."

  But Roy declared he wasn't tired and took up his paddle again. As theyneared the school landing the rowboat came drifting down from the end ofthe island, the half dozen lads inside of it shouting and laughingloudly. Suddenly Roy started to his feet.

  "Sit down!" cried Chub sharply.

  Roy sat down, not so much on account of the command as because he hadstarted the canoe to rocking, and it was a choice between doing that andfalling into the river.

  "Their boat's upset!" he cried back.

  "So I see," answered Chub. "But it isn't necessary to upset this one,too. Besides, they can all swim like fishes."

  Nevertheless he bent to his paddle and, with Roy making ineffectualefforts to help him, fairly shot the craft over the water. But longbefore they had neared the overturned boat it became evident that theiraid was not required, for the boys in the water, laughing over theirmishap, were swimming toward the beach and pushing the capsized boatbefore them. Chub headed the canoe toward the landing.

  "You see," he explained, "no fellow is allowed to get into a boat hereuntil he can swim, and so, barring a swift current, there isn't muchdanger. That's Sid in front. He's a regular fish in the water and it'seven money that he upset the thing on purpose. He'd better not let Emmyknow about it, though. By the way, how about you? Can you swim? I forgotto ask you."

  "Yes, I can swim pretty fair," answered Roy.

  "All right. I took it for granted you could. You look like a chap thatcan do things. Do you play baseball?"

  "No; that is, I've never played on a team. Of course, I can catch a ballif it's coming my way."

  "Good! Why not come out for the nine in the spring? Will you?"

  "I don't believe there'd be much use in it," said Roy. "I know so littleabout the game."

  "That's all right. You could learn. Half the fellows who try have neverplayed before. And I know you can start quick and run like a streak. Isaw you make that touchdown day before yesterday. You'd better try."

  "Well," answered Roy, as they lifted the canoe from the water and boreit into the boat house, "maybe I will. Only I don't think the captainwould be very glad to see me."

  "Don't you worry about the captain," laughed Chub. "He's too glad to getmaterial to be fussy."

  "Who is captain?" asked Roy.

  "I am," said Chub. "That's how I know so much about him!"