"Say, do you want to fight?" roared Jasniff, coming forward, and
sticking his chin close to Dave's face.

"I can defend myself, Jasniff,--even when a fellow tried to take a foul
advantage of me, as you did that time in the gym."

"Bah! Always ringing that in. I only swung the Indian club to scare you.
I can fight with my fists."

"Well, remember what I said, Jasniff. It's my last warning."

"Oh, come on--they make me sick!" cried Link Merwell, a certain nervous
tremor in his voice. "We don't want to listen to their hot air!" And
plucking his crony by the arm he hurried out of the alleyway into the
street.

"Shall we let 'em go, Dave?" whispered Phil. "I'd just as soon pound 'em
good."

"If we did that, Phil, they'd claim we were three to two and took an
unfair advantage of them. Let them go. They have their final warning,
and if they don't heed it--well, they will have to take the
consequences."

"I could hardly keep my hands off of Merwell."

"I felt the same way," said Roger. "He deserves all we could give him."

The three chums watched Merwell and Jasniff turn another corner. They
expected to see the pair walk to where the automobile was standing, but
instead noted that the two cadets entered the Oakdale Hotel.

"Must be going to see somebody," suggested Phil.

"Or else they have gone in to smoke and drink and play pool," added
Roger. "You'll remember Merwell liked to drink. He was the one who did
his best to lead Gus Plum astray."

"Yes, I remember that," answered Dave. "I am mighty glad Gus and he are
keeping apart."

The three students walked past the hotel, and looking in at an open
window, saw Jasniff and Merwell talking to a man who sat in the reading
room with a newspaper in his hands.

"Why, that is that Hooker Montgomery!" exclaimed Roger. "The fake doctor
who sells those patent medicines."

"We'd better not let him see us, or he'll be wanting a new silk hat from
us," murmured Phil. And he grinned as he thought of what had occurred on
the road on the day of their arrival at Oak Hall.

"I wonder if Jasniff met him at Dunn's on the river?" said Dave. "That
is what the letter requested, you'll remember."

"Wonder what business Jasniff was to aid him in?" queried the
shipowner's son.

"Maybe Jasniff is going to help him to dispose of some of his marvelous
remedies," suggested Roger. "I reckon he could give the ignorant farmers
as good a talk about them as Montgomery himself."

"More than likely, since Montgomery is a very ignorant man," answered
Dave.

"The other fellows ought to be ready to go back to school by this time,"
said the senator's son, after watching those in the hotel for a minute.
"Let us hunt them up;" and thus, for the time being, Jasniff, Merwell,
and Doctor Montgomery were dismissed from their minds. The meeting at
the hotel was an important one to our friends as well as to those who
participated, but how important Dave and his chums did not learn until
long afterwards.

It was a comical sight to see the boys of dormitories Nos. 11 and 12
walking back to the Hall, each with a shoe box under his arm. Sam Day
led the procession, carrying his box up against his forearm, like a
sword.

"Shoulder boxes!" he shouted, gayly. "Forward march!" And then he added:
"Boom! boom! boom, boom, boom!" in imitation of a bass-drum.

"We've got boxes enough to last us for a year of picnics," cried Ben,
for in Crumville, as in many other places, shoe boxes were frequently
used for packing up picnic lunches.

"Say, that puts me in mind of a story!" put in Shadow, eagerly. "A girl
who was going to get married had a shower, as they call 'em. Well, a wag
of the town--maybe he was sore because he couldn't marry the girl
himself--told all his friends, in private, that she was very anxious to
get a nice bread-box. The shower was to be a surprise, and it was, too,
for when it came off the girl got exactly eleven bread-boxes."

"Oh!" came in a groan. "The worst yet."

"Not so bad," said Dave, dryly. "If she filled the boxes the married
pair must have proved a well-bred couple."

"Hark to that!" roared Phil. "Say, Dave, go and take a roll!"

"When it comes to a joke, Dave is the flower of this flock," was Luke's
comment.

"Anyway, he takes the cake," murmured Ben.

"Ben, say something; don't loaf on the job," came from the senator's
son.

"A joke like that is pie for Roger," murmured Polly Vane.

"Even so, nobody has a right to get crusty," murmured Plum.

"Or pious!" continued Dave, and then Shadow made a pass for him with a
shoe box. Then Roger started to run, and the others came after him, and
away they went in a merry bunch, along the road leading to Oak Hall.
Soon they came out at a point where the highway ran along the Leming
River, and there halted to rest, for the run had deprived some of them
of their wind.

"I hear a motor-boat," said Roger. "Wonder if it is Nat Poole's craft?"

"It is!" answered Plum. "Here he comes, right close to shore!"

The river was a good fifteen feet below the level of the roadway, and
gazing down through the bushes lining the water's edge, the students
beheld Nat Poole's motor-boat gliding along in a zig-zag fashion. Nat
was not in the craft, which was evidently running without an occupant.




CHAPTER XV

A RUNAWAY MOTOR-BOAT


"What do you make of that?"

"The motor-boat must have run away from Nat!"

"Either that or Nat has fallen overboard!"

"Maybe Nat has been drowned!"

These and other remarks were made, as the boys on the highway gazed down
at the craft that was speeding along in such an erratic fashion over the
surface of the river. A closer look confirmed their first opinion, that
nobody was on board.

"I'm going to try to stop her!" shouted Dave, and ran back along the
highway, and disappeared into the bushes. Roger followed him closely,
and some of the others trailed behind.

"I am going up the river--to see if I can find Nat!" shouted Phil, and
away he sped, and Sam and Ben went along.

It was no easy matter for Dave to work his way down the bank of the
stream. The bushes were thick and the footing uncertain, and once his
jacket caught on a root and he had to pause to free himself. But at
last he came out on a narrow strip of rocks and sand, at a point where
the Leming River made a broad turn.

The water at this point was quite shallow, and here he thought the
progress of the motor-boat would be stayed. His surmise was correct, the
craft bringing up between several smooth rocks. The engine continued to
work, pounding the boat back and forth, and threatening to sink her.

Fortunately, Dave had on a pair of gaiters he had borrowed, and they
were so big that he slipped them off with ease. His socks followed, and
then he rolled up his trousers to his knees, and waded into the stream.

"Be careful, or you'll slip and hurt yourself on the rocks!" sang out
the senator's son.

"I'm watching out!" returned Dave.

He was leaping from one smooth stone to another, keeping in the shallow
spots as much as possible. Thus he managed to get within a few yards of
the motor-boat.

As he came closer he saw that the craft was pounding on the rocks worse
than before. The pounding had in some way moved the gasoline control
forward and also advanced the spark, and the engine was practically
running "wild."

"I hope she isn't getting ready to blow up!" thought the youth, and he
gazed anxiously ahead. Smoke was issuing from the motor-boat, coming
from some over-heated oil.

He leaped to the next high rock, and then plunged boldly forward, soon
gaining the bow of the craft. At the stern the propeller was churning
the water into a white foam. The craft was trembling violently, and the
hum of the machinery gave full evidence of the power it was exerting.

Fortunately, Dave's knowledge of gasoline engines now stood him in good
stead, and without the loss of a second he turned off the supply of
gasoline and the electric spark, and thus allowed the engine to "die."
As the propeller slowed up and stopped, the water behind the craft
calmed down, and then the pounding on the rocks was reduced to a gentle
rub that did little but scratch the paint.

"Is she all right, Dave?" called out Roger, who stood on the rocks of
the bank watching proceedings with great interest.

"I think so, although it hasn't done the engine any good to run wild.
She's pretty well heated up, and the cylinders may be carbonized, or
something like that."

"What are you going to do--try to run her in here?"

"No, I'll not take the risk. I only wanted to stop the engine and get
rid of the risk of the boat blowing up."

"You ran a big risk doing it. She looked to me as if she might go up any
instant."

"She can't get out of here--the current holds her," went on Dave. "She
will be perfectly safe until Nat comes for her. I'd like to know where
he is."

"Phil and some of the others went off to see."

To save the boat as much as possible, Dave took two of the wooden
gratings of the flooring and tied them to ropes hanging over the sides.
In this position they acted as fenders, so that the rocks rubbed against
the gratings instead of the boat proper.

"I am afraid he'll have quite a job of it, getting her out into the
stream," said Dave, on coming ashore, and when he was putting on his
socks and the gaiters. "She'll have to back out against the current and
do a lot of turning."

"Maybe he'll have to get somebody to tow him out,--with a very long
line," returned Roger.

"If only Nat didn't fall overboard," said Dave.

In the meantime, Phil and some of the others had run up the stream a
distance. As they turned a point where there were several small islands
the shipowner's son set up a shout.

"There is Nat now!"

"Whatever is he doing?" queried Ben.

"Swimming ashore, or trying to wade," answered Sam.

The boys on the shore came down to the water's edge and watched Nat
Poole with interest. He was floundering around in water up to his waist.
Sometimes he would come up on a rock, and then slip and pitch headlong.
But he kept on, until he was but a few yards away.

"Hi, Nat! what's the matter?" called out Phil. "Did you fall overboard?"

"Hel--help me!" chattered the unfortunate one, and now the others
realized that he was suffering greatly from the cold. "Don--don't let
m--me--g-g-g--go down!"

"We'll help you!" answered Phil, promptly, and ran out on some dry rocks
to a point close to poor Nat. "Come, give me your hand and I'll pull you
up."

"So will I," added Ben, who had come behind the shipowner's son.

The suffering youth was only too glad to have somebody come to his aid,
and he put up both hands, and those on the rocks hauled him up and then
aided him to get to a safe spot on shore. He was shivering from head to
feet, and his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak.

"I wa--want t-t-to get where it is wa-wa-warm!" chattered Nat. "That
wa--water is li--like i-i-i-ice!"

"Take off your wet coat," said Phil, kindly. "Here, you can have mine.
I've got a sweater on." And he passed over the garment.

Nat was glad enough to don something dry, and the exchange was quickly
made.

"If you'll take my advice, you'll make a run of it to the nearest
farmhouse and warm up," said Ben. "If you don't you may take your death
of cold."

"I--I wi--will," answered Nat.

"I'll go with you. There is a farmhouse just down the road a bit."

"We'll go back to where we left Dave and the others," said Phil. "They
were after your boat," he explained.

"Did th--they st--stop h-h-her?"

"I don't know. We saw her, in the river, running wild. How did it
happen?"

"I was fi--fixing the rudder li--line at the st--st--stern when all of a
su--sudden we hit a r--r--rock or something and I we--went overboard,"
answered Nat. "Before I co-could g-g-get back the b-b-boat got away
from m-m-me."

"Dave and some others went after the boat. We saw it running by itself,
among the rocks."

Nat was too cold to pay attention just then to what had become of his
property. He ran as fast as he could to the farmhouse, and there was
taken in and allowed to dry himself in front of the fire, and was given
a cup of hot tea. In the meantime Phil rejoined Dave and Roger, and
told how the money-lender's son had been found.

It was after the supper-hour when all of the boys got back to Oak Hall,
and Job Haskers was on the point of reading them a lecture and forcing
them to do without supper when Doctor Clay appeared. To the master of
the school the lads related their story, and he at once excused them for
their tardiness, and told them to go directly to the dining-room, while
he ordered Lemond to get out the school coach and go after Nat.

"Poole can be glad he was not drowned," said the doctor. "It was nice of
you to stop the engine of his boat. But after this I want all of you to
be more careful. I do not want to lose any of my boys!" And the look he
gave them went to the heart of every lad present.

"What a difference between him and old Haskers!" murmured Phil.

"I'd give as much as a dollar to have Haskers leave," added Sam.

"I reckon every fellow in the school would chip in a dollar for that,"
was Plum's comment.

When Nat got in he was sent at once to his room, to change all of his
clothes, and was then given a hot supper, which made him feel quite like
himself. Later on he questioned Dave about the motor-boat, and said he
would try to get the craft from among the rocks the next day, hiring a
professional boatman to assist him. He did not thank Dave for his aid,
nor did he thank Phil and the others.

"I guess it isn't in him to thank anybody," was Ben's comment. "Nat is
one of the kind who thinks only of himself."

"He will have a hard time of it, getting his boat," said Dave, and so it
proved. It took half a day to get the craft from among the rocks, and
then it was found that she leaked so badly she had to be sent to a
boat-builder for repairs.

That Saturday was the day scheduled for the football game with
Lemington. As Nat could not take the eleven to that town in his
motor-boat, as promised, the school carryall was pressed into service.
This made some of the other students, who had arranged to go in the
carryall, find other means of conveyance, and there was considerable
grumbling.

"Poole said he would take 'em in the motor-boat," growled one student.
"He ought to have seen to it that his boat was repaired on time."

The Old Guard football eleven all had bicycles or motor-cycles, and they
went to the Lemington Athletic Grounds in a body on their wheels. All
carried the school colors, and many also had horns and rattles.

"We'll show 'em that we can root for Oak Hall even if we are not on the
eleven!" declared Dave.

Job Haskers took but little interest in athletics, declaring he thought
too much time was wasted over field sports, but Andrew Dale was keenly
alive to what was going on. He knew all about the trouble in the
football organization, and he watched the departure of Dave and his
chums with interest.

"Aren't you going, Mr. Dale?" asked Dave.

"Oh, yes, I am going in the carriage with Doctor Clay. Do you think we
shall win, Porter?"

"We'll win if rooting can do it!" cried Dave.

"Then you intend to 'root,' as you call it?"

"Yes, sir--we are going to root for all we are worth."

"I am glad to know it," answered Andrew Dale; and then he turned away to
attend to some school duties. Later on, when he and the doctor were on
the way to the game, he mentioned the trouble in the football club, and
told how Dave and his chums had been left out in the cold, and how Dave
and the others were now going to cheer for and encourage the school
eleven.

"Fine! Grand!" murmured the master of the school, his eye lighting up
with pleasure. "That is the proper school spirit! It does Porter, Morr,
and the others great credit."

"Exactly what I think, Doctor," answered the first assistant. "Many
players would have remained away altogether, or gone to the game to
throw cold water on the efforts of those on the gridiron. It shows a
manliness that cannot be excelled."

"Yes! yes!" murmured Doctor Clay. "A fine lot of boys, truly! A fine
lot! It seems a pity they were forced off the team."

"Perhaps they'll be back--before the football season is over," answered
Andrew Dale, gravely.

"What do you mean, Dale?"

"Perhaps the football eleven will need them and be glad to get them
back."




CHAPTER XVI

A STRUGGLE ON THE GRIDIRON


When Dave and his chums reached the athletic grounds they found the
grandstand and the bleachers about half filled with people. The
Lemington contingent had a good number of rooters, and they were already
filling the air with their cries of encouragement. The boys looked
around, but saw nothing of Vera Rockwell or Mary Feversham.

"Maybe they didn't think it worth while to come," suggested the
senator's son.

"No Rockville fellows here, either," said Phil. "They play an eleven
from Elmwood this afternoon."

The Lemington players were already on the field, and it was seen that
they were rather light in weight, only the full-back being of good size.

"Our eleven has the advantage in weight," said Roger. "But I rather
fancy those fellows are swift."

"Yes, and they may be tricky," added Ben.

As soon as Dave and his chums were seated, Dave gave the signal, and
the Oak Hall cheer was given. Then followed another cheer for the school
eleven, with a tooting of horns and a clacking of wooden rattles.

"Mercy! but those Oak Hall students can make a noise!" exclaimed one
girl, sitting close by.

"That is what they call 'rooting'!" answered her friend. "Isn't it
lovely!"

"Perfectly delicious! They ought to win, if they shout like that!"

Guy Frapley heard the racket, and walked over to the spot from whence it
proceeded. He was astonished beyond measure to see Dave leading off,
yelling at the top of his lungs, and waving a rattle in one hand and the
school colors in the other.

"What do you think of that?" he asked, of Nat Poole.

"Oh, Porter and his crowd want to make out they don't feel stung over
being out of it," grumbled Nat.

"But they are rooting harder than anybody."

"They'll be glad to see us lose."

"We are not going to lose."

"I didn't say we were," answered Nat, and walked away. Somehow, it made
him angry to see Dave and his chums cheering, and in such an earnest
manner. He would have been better satisfied had Dave acted grouchy or
stayed away from the game.

The game was to be of two halves, of thirty minutes each, with ten
minutes intermission. Oak Hall won the toss-up, and as there was no wind
and no choice of goals, they kept the ball, and Lemington took the south
end of the gridiron.

"Now, then, here is where Oak Hall wins!" cried Dave, loudly. "Do your
level best, fellows!"

"Shove her over the line, first thing!" added Roger.

"Oak Hall! Oak Hall!" yelled Phil. "Now then, all together in the game!"

Under the inspiration of the cheering, Oak Hall made a fine kick-off,
and by some spirited work carried the pigskin well down into the
Lemington territory. But then the ball was lost by Nat Poole, and the
opposing eleven brought it back to the center of the gridiron, and then
rushed it up to the thirty-yard line of the school.

"That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter. "You've got 'em
going!"

"Send it back!" yelled Dave. "All together, for Oak Hall!" And this cry
was taken up by a hundred throats.

Guy Frapley got the ball, a minute later, and made a really fine run
around the Lemington left end. This brought the pigskin again to
center, and there it remained for nearly five minutes, the downs on
both sides availing little or nothing. A scrimmage followed, in which
one Lemington player was injured, and he accused one of the Oak Hall
fellows, a new player named Bemis, of foul play. This protest was
sustained, and Bemis was retired and another new player named Cardell
was substituted.

"Five minutes more!" was the cry, and again both elevens went at it.
Dave suddenly saw the captain of the Lemingtons make a certain sign to
some of his men.

"They are up to some trick!" he cried to his chums, and hardly had he
spoken when the ball went into play, through center and across to the
left end. It was picked up like a flash, passed to the quarter-back, who
was on the watch for it, and carried toward the Oak Hall line with a
rush.

"A touchdown for Lemington!"

"That's the way to do it!"

"Now, Higgins, make it a goal!"

Amid a wild cheering, the pigskin was brought out for the kick, and the
goal was made.

"That's the way to do it!"

"Now for another touchdown!"

Again the pigskin was brought into play. But while it was still near the
center of the field the whistle blew and the first half of the game came
to an end.

Score: Lemington 6, Oak Hall 0.

It must be confessed that it was a sorry-looking eleven that straggled
into the Oak Hall dressing-room to discuss the situation.

"You want more snap!" cried John Rand, the manager.

"They put up a trick on us!" grumbled Nat. "They got that touchdown by a
fluke."

"Well, I wish we could make one in the same way," retorted Rand. Since
being elected manager, he had had anything but an easy task of it to
make the eleven pull together. Some of the old players wanted Dave,
Roger, Phil, and the others back, and threatened to leave unless a
change was made.

"This looks as if Oak Hall was out of it," whispered Phil to his chums,
during the intermission.

"Oh, I don't know," returned Dave. "A touchdown and a goal isn't such a
wonderful lead."

At the beginning of the second half it was seen that Guy Frapley and his
fellow-players were determined to do something if they could. But they
were excited and wild, and the captain could do little to hold them in.
Several times they got confused on the signals, and once one of the new
ends lost the ball on a fumble that looked almost childish. Inside of
ten minutes, amid a mad yelling from the Lemington supporters, the ball
was forced over the Oak Hall line for another touchdown, and another
goal was kicked. Then, five minutes later, came a goal from the field.

"Hurrah! That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter.

"Fifteen to nothing!" cried another. "Thought Oak Hall knew how to play
football!"

"They ought to play some primary school kids!"

"You shut up!" screamed Nat Poole, in sudden rage. "We know what we are
doing!"

"You ought to be an ice-man,--you're slow enough," retorted the
Lemingtonite, and this brought forth a laugh, and made Nat madder than
ever.

Again the ball was placed in play, and this time Oak Hall did all it
could to hold its own. But it was of no avail. Lemington carried the air
of victory with it, and its confidence could not be withstood. Again the
ball was shoved over the line for a touchdown, and again the goal was
kicked, amid a cheering that was deafening.

"It's a slaughter!" murmured Roger.

"I am afraid so," answered Dave. "Too bad! I am sorry for the school!"

"So am I," said the senator's son, and Phil and Ben nodded gravely.

The last five minutes of the game only served to "rub it in," as Shadow
expressed it, for Lemington scored again, this time, however, failing
to kick the goal. When the whistle blew the pigskin was on the Oak Hall
twenty-five yard line.

Final score: Lemington 26, Oak Hall 0.

It is perhaps needless to state that the local supporters yelled and
cheered, and blew their horns, and clacked their rattles until they were
exhausted. It was a great victory, for in the past Oak Hall had been a
formidable rival on the gridiron. The eleven cheered for Oak Hall, and
were cheered in return; and then the visitors got out of sight as
quickly as possible.

"A bitter defeat truly," said Doctor Clay, while driving back to the
school. "Our boys did not seem to play together at all."

"It was very ragged work," answered Andrew Dale. "But it is no more than
I expected, from what I saw in the practice games. Our eleven will be
able to do but little unless it improves wonderfully."

"I believe you, Dale. Don't you--ah--think they would do better if
Porter and Morr and Lawrence were in the line-up?"

"I certainly do. But they have been voted out, so I was told."

"Ahem!" Doctor Clay grew thoughtful. "What does Mr. Dodsworth think
about it?" The party he mentioned was the gymnastic teacher, who took
quite an interest in football, although not officially.

"He thinks Porter, Morr, Lawrence, and Plum ought to be put back on the
eleven. He says it is a shame that they were put off in the first
place."

"I believe our school is to play Rockville Academy next."

"Yes, and I just got a message over the telephone that Rockville won
from Elmwood this afternoon, twelve to four. I know Elmwood has a strong
eleven, so Rockville must be extra good this season."

"Exactly so; and that means, if our eleven is not greatly strengthened
before we meet Rockville, we shall suffer another defeat," responded the
master of Oak Hall, rubbing his chin reflectively.

"More than likely, sir."

"Too bad! In these days some folks think football and baseball quite as
important--ahem!--as--er--some studies. It is a wrong idea,
assuredly,--yet I--ahem!--I think it would be a very good thing if we
could show the world that our students can play football as well as do
other things."

"Football is a great thing at Yale, Harvard, and Princeton, Doctor."

"Yes, indeed! I remember well how I used to witness those stirring
games, and how I would yell with the rest. Why, Dale, one year we had a
quarter-back that was a corker. They couldn't stop him! He got the
pigskin and skinned down the field like a blue streak, and--but, ahem!
that is past history now," finished the doctor, bringing himself back to
his usual dignity. "But I must look into this football matter more
closely," he added with a speculative sigh.

Poole, Frapley, and their crowd had arranged for a banquet that night,
and many others of Oak Hall had gathered boxes and barrels for bonfires.
The banquet was a tame affair, and not a single fire was lighted.

"We are having frost early this year," said Luke, dryly.

"Yes, it came on suddenly, this afternoon," added Shadow.

"I'll wager you will hear something drop in the football team before
long," went on Luke. "The school won't stand for such work as we had
to-day."

"Who is to blame?"

"Rand, Frapley, Bemis, and Nat Poole."

"Then they better resign."

"Just what I say."

During the evening the talk throughout the school was largely about the
game, and nearly every player was severely criticised. It was agreed
that Bemis had acted in a thoroughly unsportsmanlike manner, and he was
told that he would have to resign, and he agreed to do so. It was also
agreed by the students generally that of the new players, Guy Frapley
had done the best work.

"Give him proper support and he would be all right," said Dave. "But, in
my opinion, the eleven as it now stands will never win a victory."

"And that is what I think, too," added Roger.




CHAPTER XVII

REORGANIZING THE ELEVEN


On Monday morning the students of Oak Hall were treated to a surprise.
Directly after chapel service Doctor Clay came forward to make an
address. He first spoke about the good work that the pupils were,
generally speaking, doing, and then branched off about the football
game, and the poor exhibition made on the gridiron.

"In the past I have not thought it proper for the head of this
institution to take part in your football and baseball games, contenting
myself with giving you an instructor in the gymnasium alone," he
continued. "But I find that these sports now play a more or less
prominent part in all boarding schools and colleges, and that being so,
I have thought it wise to embrace all field sports in the gymnasium
department. Consequently, from to-day your football elevens, your
baseball nines, and your track athletics, and in fact all your sports,
will be held under the supervision and direction of Mr. Dodsworth, your
gymnasium instructor. He will be assisted by Mr. Dale, who, as you all
know, was once a leading college football and baseball player. These two
gentlemen will aid you in reorganizing your football eleven, and will do
all in their power to give to Oak Hall the victories you all desire."

This announcement came as a bombshell to Rand, Frapley, Poole, and their
cohorts, and it was equally surprising to all of the others who had
played on the eleven.

"That means a shaking-up for us all right," said one of the players. "I
can see somebody getting fired already."

"Do you suppose they intend to take the management away from me and
Rand?" demanded Frapley. "I don't think that is fair. Rand was made
manager by a popular vote."

"If they want me to resign, I'll do it," snapped the manager. He had
been so severely criticised that he was growing tired of it.

"It's a shame that we can't run our club to suit ourselves," grumbled
Nat Poole. "If the teachers are going to do it, maybe they had better do
the playing too."

"Well, they'd play a heap sight better than you did, Nat," was the
remark of another student.

Doctor Clay's announcement created such a stir that the students could
think of little else during the day. All felt that from henceforth
football, baseball, and track athletics would become a regular part of
the institution.

In the afternoon a notice was posted up in the Hall and in the
gymnasium, calling a special meeting of all who were interested in the
football organization. The meeting was called for Tuesday afternoon at
four o'clock, and the call was signed by Mr. Dodsworth and Mr. Dale.

"They are not going to let any grass grow under their feet," remarked
the senator's son, as he and Dave read the notice.

"Shall you go to the meeting, Roger?"

"Of course. And you must go, too, Dave. I know Mr. Dale and Mr.
Dodsworth want all the fellows to be there."

Following the posting of the notice came word that Rand had resigned the
management of the eleven, and then came another notice calling for the
election of a new manager.

"Let us put up Henry Fordham again," suggested Phil. "That is, if he is
willing to run."

The football meeting was attended by nearly every student of Oak Hall,
the gymnasium meeting room being literally packed. The only youth who
was absent was John Rand.

Mr. Dale called the meeting to order, and made a neat speech, in which
he advised the lads to act soberly and accordingly to their best
judgment. He said the football game with Lemington had proved a great
disappointment, and he sincerely trusted that the reorganized eleven
would be able to lead the school to nothing but victories. He added that
as Rand had resigned, they would first proceed to the election of a new
manager, and then the rearranging of the eleven would be begun under the
direction of Mr. Dodsworth and himself.

The teacher had scarcely finished his speech when Guy Frapley was on his
feet.

"Mr. Dale, I wish to say something," he almost shouted. "As everybody
here knows, I am the captain of the football eleven. What I want to know
is, whether I am to be the captain of the eleven or not. If I am to be
nothing but a figurehead, why, I'd rather get out."

It was an aggressive, almost brutal, manner of expressing himself, and
it produced an uproar.

"Put him out!"

"Make him resign!"

"Tell him he has got to behave himself and make good!"

"Boys! Young gentlemen! We must have quietness!" cried Andrew Dale,
raising his hand. And then he rapped for order.

"I'll resign!" shouted Guy Frapley, when he could be heard. "I don't
want anything more to do with the old team, anyway!" And in a rage he
forced his way out of the gymnasium. Several of his friends tried to
get him to return, but without avail.

The departure of Frapley brought about a semblance of order, and
presently the gymnasium instructor got up to talk. What he said was
directly to the point. He said that he had prepared a list of names of
former football players of Oak Hall, with a record of the work of each
individual. This list would be used in making up the reorganized team.

"That's the talk!" cried one student. "That's the common-sense way of
going at it."

"Merit is what counts every time," added another.

When a vote was taken for a new manager, Henry Fordham was elected
almost unanimously. In accepting, the new manager stated that he was
glad he was going to have the assistance of Mr. Dale and Mr. Dodsworth,
and he hoped that from now on the club would pull together and pile up
nothing but victories. This speech was well received and loudly
applauded.

Then the list of football players of past seasons was read. Dave was
placed at the top of the list, with Phil, Plum, Roger, and Sam following
in the order named. Nat Poole's name was sixteenth, much to his disgust.

"I suppose that means that I can't play on the eleven," he growled.

"You may become a substitute," answered Mr. Dodsworth.

"Not much! If I can't play on the eleven, I know what I'll do--I'll pack
my trunk and go home!"

"Do it right away!" shouted a voice from the rear of the room.

"You'll never be missed, Poole," added another.

"All right, I'll leave!" shouted Poole, purple with rage, and then he
left the meeting as abruptly as Guy Frapley had done. At the door he
shook his fist at the crowd. "You just wait--I'll fix Oak Hall for
this!" he added, sourly.

"How foolish!" murmured Luke. "Nat will never make any friends by acting
like that."

"Do you think he'll leave Oak Hall?" questioned another boy.

"Perhaps,--if his father will let him."

Following the departure of Nat Poole came the reorganizing of the
football eleven. Dave was placed in the position he had occupied the
year before, and Phil, Roger, Sam, and Plum followed. Of those who had
played against Lemington only five were retained--those who had been on
the eleven one and two years previous. All the other players were told
they would have to enter the scrub team, for a try-out for the
substitute bench.

It filled Dave's heart with pleasure to get back in his old position.
He was unanimously chosen as captain of the eleven, and he called for
some practice every afternoon that week,--a call that was indorsed by
Mr. Dodsworth, Mr. Dale, and the new manager.

"We have got to get right down to business--if we want to beat
Rockville," said Dave, to the others. "I understand they put up a stiff
game with Elmwood. If we are beaten, all the fellows who were put off
the eleven will have the laugh on us."

"We'll do our best," cried the senator's son.

"It's a good thing we organized the Old Guard," said Phil. "That kept us
in fine condition."

Practice commenced in earnest the next day, and was kept up every
afternoon, under the supervision of Mr. Dale and the gymnasium
instructor. Mr. Dodsworth perfected the eleven in signal work, and
Andrew Dale showed them how to work several trick plays used effectively
by the college he had attended.

Many of the students wondered what Guy Frapley, Nat Poole, and John Rand
would do. On the day following the reorganization of the football
eleven, all three students sent telegrams to their parents, and received
replies the next day. Rand and Frapley left Oak Hall, and announced that
they were going to Rockville Military Academy. Nat Poole had wanted to
go, too, but Aaron Poole would not permit it, for the reason that he had
paid for Nat's board and tuition in advance, and he was not the man to
sacrifice one cent by such a move. Later on he wrote a letter, stating
that he didn't believe in any such foolishness as football anyway, and
Nat had better settle down to his studies and get some good of the money
that was being spent on him. This letter angered Nat exceedingly, but he
could do nothing without his parent's consent, and so he settled down as
best he could.

"I shouldn't wonder if Rand and Frapley become cronies of Merwell and
Jasniff," said Dave to Phil. And so it proved,--the four became quite
intimate, and all of them vowed that sooner or later they would "settle
accounts" with Dave for the trouble he and his chums had caused them.
The ringleader of the four was Nick Jasniff, and he resolved to do
something that would put Dave in the deepest kind of disgrace. Not to
expose himself, he matured his plans slowly and with great caution.

Although Dave was doing all in his power to make the football eleven a
good one, he was not permitted to devote all his spare time to that
organization. Oak Hall, as my old readers know, boasted of a secret
organization known as the Gee Eyes, those words standing for the
initials G and I, which in their turn stood for the words Guess It.
Dave and his chums were all members of this society, which was kept up
mainly for the fun of initiating new members.

"The Gee Eyes meet to-night, Dave," said Buster Beggs on Friday morning.
"Big affair--initiation of six new members. You must be on hand."

"I think I had better go to bed--so as to be in good trim for the
football game," answered Dave.

"Oh, no, you must come!" pleaded Buster. "Phil and Roger, and all the
old crowd have promised to be there."

"Well, I'll be on hand if you'll promise not to keep us out after twelve
o'clock, Buster. The eleven has got to get its sleep, remember that."

"All right, we'll try to cut it short," answered Buster Beggs, who, this
term, was the leader of the society, or Right Honorable Muck-a-Muck, as
he was called.

"What are you going to do?" questioned Dave.

"That's a secret, Dave. But it will make you laugh. We are going to
initiate the whole six at one time."

"Very well, I'll be there."

"One thing more, Dave," went on Buster, in a low voice. "Keep this from
Nat Poole."

"But he is a member," urged Dave. "He has a right to know."

"If he knew he'd tell on us sure--he is down on the whole crowd. We are
going to drop him."

"I see. Well, you are leader this term, Buster, so do as you please,"
answered Dave, and walked off to one of his recitations. Then Buster
hurried off in another direction.

As soon as the two students were gone a third boy tiptoed his way from
behind a coat rack, where he had been in hiding. The lad was Nat Poole.

"I thought something was in the wind!" murmured Nat to himself. "I must
find out just where they are going, and what they are going to do,--and
then I'll let Doctor Clay know all about it. Maybe if Porter and his
crowd are caught red-handed they'll be put in disgrace, and then they
won't be able to play that game with Rockville!"




CHAPTER XVIII

AN INITIATION AND WHAT FOLLOWED


"Are we all ready?"

"We are."

"Then forward--and make as little noise as possible until we are out of
hearing of the school."

The Gee Eyes had assembled at the boathouse, under the leadership of
Buster Beggs and Ben Basswood. Three of the number had gone ahead,
taking with them the six new students who were to be initiated.

The members of the society had with them their robes and other
paraphernalia, consisting of boxlike headgear, stuffed clubs, wooden
swords, squirt guns, and other articles too numerous to mention. They
hurried off into the woods, and there donned the robes and headgear, and
lit their lanterns, for the night promised to be dark.

"I hope nobody has found us out," ventured Roger. "We don't want to get
caught at this." He had received an inkling of what was coming.

"Oh, I guess we are safe enough," answered Dave. "Murphy said he would
let us in."

"Say, talking about being let in puts me in mind of a story," came from
Shadow. "A man stayed out later nights than his wife liked. One night he
didn't come home until very late, and he stood on the sidewalk, afraid
to let himself in. Along came a friend and asked him what he was doing.
'Please ring the bell and see if my wife is home,' said the man. So the
friend rang the bell, and the next instant the door opened, and he got a
broom over his head. 'Is she in?' asked the man on the sidewalk. 'Sure
she is,' answered his friend. 'Go right in and you'll get a warm
welcome!'" And at this story there was a general snicker.

A few minutes' walk brought the members of the Gee Eyes to a clearing in
the woods. Here several lanterns had been hung up, casting a weird light
of red, blue, and green. Those to be initiated were present, and
surrounding them in a big circle, the members of the society commenced
to chant:

    "Flabboola! flabboola!
      See the victims, see!
    Flabboola! flabboola!
      Victim, bend your knee!
    Sinky panky! flabboola!
      Fall upon the ground!
    Sinky panky! flabboola!
      Sing without a sound!"

And then came a wild dancing around the victims, with a brandishing of
clubs and swords.

"Hi! don't stab me!" roared one, as a sword was thrust suddenly in the
direction of his stomach.

"Shut up!" murmured the victim next to him. "They won't hurt you."

"The Right Honorable Lord of the Reservoir will warm up the victims'
backbones!" sang out Buster, in a hoarse bass voice. And then Shadow
Hamilton, in his disguise, crept behind the nearest victim, and sent a
stream of ice-water from a squirt-gun down the fellow's neck.

"Wow! wow!" yelled the student, trying to break away from the pair who
held him. "Crimps! but that's cold!"

"'Tis for thy good we do this to thee!" said Shadow, solemnly, and then
the next victim was treated to a similar dose. He submitted quietly, and
so did the next fellow, but the fourth broke away, and started off in
the direction of the school.

"Hi, come back here!" yelled several. "Don't you want to become a
member?"

"I--I guess I've changed my mind!" stammered the youth. "I--er--I can't
stand cold baths, nohow. If you--Hello, what's this!" And of a sudden he
pitched over some dark object, and went headlong.

"Ouch!" came in another voice. "Ouch! What do you mean by kicking me in
the ribs?" And a groan of pain followed.

"Who is behind those bushes?" asked Dave.

"Must be a spy!" returned Phil.

"A spy! A spy! Capture him!"

"Don't let him get back to the school!"

On the instant there was great excitement, and fully a dozen members of
the Gee Eyes rushed forward and caught hold of the escaping victim, and
the fellow over whom he had stumbled. Both were dragged forward, and the
light of a lantern was turned on the unknown.

"Why, it's Nat Poole!"

"He was spying on us!"

"Maybe he was going to report us!"

"You le--let go of me!" stammered Nat. He put his hand to his side.
"That fellow half killed me!" And he gave another groan.

"What were you doing in the bushes?" demanded Ben, sternly.

"Me? Why--er--nothing."

"Yes, you were."

"I'll wager a button he was going to report us!" exclaimed another
student.

"It ain't so!" whined Nat. "Ain't I got a right to be here? I'm a
member."

"No, you are not--you've been cast out!" answered a deep bass voice.

"If he wants to be one of us, he's got to be initiated all over again!"
said Phil, in a disguised voice. "What say, boys, shall we do it?"

"Yes! yes! Put him with the others!"

"Sure thing! Nat, you are just in time!"

"We'll give you an initiation you'll never forget, a regular three-ply,
dyed in the wool, warranted storm-proof initiation," added Ben, in
tragic tones.

"I don't want to be initiated again!" howled the money-lender's son.
"I've had enough of this society. You let me go!"

"Not to-night!" was the firm answer, and much against his will Nat was
forced to go along with the crowd; and thus his plan to find out what
they were going to do, and then carry the news to Doctor Clay, was
nipped in the bud.

"We were lucky to catch Nat," whispered Dave to Roger, as the whole
crowd proceeded through the woods, led by Buster and Ben. "I am certain
he was spying on us for no good purpose."

"Exactly, Dave, and we want to watch him right along," returned the
senator's son. "First thing you know, he'll be giving our football
signals and tricks away to Rockville and the other schools we are going
to play."

Nat had been forced to join the other victims, and the seven were
marched a distance of a quarter of a mile. The crowd came out on the
bank of the river, at a spot where several ice-houses had recently been
erected.

"Now, we'll give you the famous slide for life!" cried Buster, and
pointed to the upper portion of one of the ice-houses, where a big
wooden slide led downward into the Leming River.

"I can't stand cold water!" cried the victim who had previously tried to
run away.

"'Twill do you a power of good!" answered Sam, in a deep voice.

"Say, you ain't going to dump me into the river from that thing!" roared
Nat Poole. "I won't stand it!"

"Then sit down to it, Nat!" came a voice from the rear.

Of a sudden the seven victims were blindfolded. Several protested
weakly, but the others kept silent, for they knew it would do no good to
attempt to hold back; indeed, it might make matters worse. Yet nobody in
that crowd wanted a ducking, for the water was cold, and they were quite
a distance from the school.

Some narrow stairs led to the upper portion of the ice-houses, and
blindfolded as they were, the victims were forced to mount these and
were then taken to a room in the back of one of the buildings.

"Now for Number One!" sang out Buster, and one of the victims was rushed
forward to a slide.

"Hope you can swim, Carson!" said one of the hazers.

"The water isn't over ten feet deep," said another.

"Swim hard and then you won't take cold," added a third.

"If you find yourself really drowning, yell for help," put in a fourth.

"I--er--I don't think this is quite fair----" commenced poor Carson, and
then he was tripped flat on his back and sent downward with a plunge.
"Oh!" he screamed, and then continued to go down, with great rapidity,
for the slide had been looked over by the boys, and made as smooth as
possible. He shut his mouth tightly, expecting every instant to strike
the chilling waters, but of a sudden his feet struck a heap of sawdust,
and into this he slid up to his knees. Then eager hands seized him, and
the bandage was torn from his eyes. In the semi-darkness he saw that he
had not come down the slide over the water, but down another, which
ended in the sawdust pit of the ice-house. He looked decidedly sheepish.

"Have a fine swim, Carson?" asked one of his tormentors.

"What a sell!" muttered the victim. "But anyway, it's better than the
river!" he added, with much satisfaction.

One after another the victims were sent down the wooden slide. Some came
down silently, like martyrs, while others yelled in alarm. Nat Poole
was the last to be brought forward. He was well blindfolded.

"Be careful, Nat!" cried one student, gravely. "Don't hit your head when
you go down."

"And don't scratch yourself on any of the nails," added another.

"As soon as you hit the water somebody will haul you in with a
boathook," came from a third.

"I--I don't want to slide into the water, I tell you!" screamed the
money-lender's son. "I'll catch my death of cold!"

"You run all the way back to school and get into bed and you'll be all
right!" said a fourth hazer.

"I--I can't swim very well! You let me go!" And now Nat was fairly
whining.

"Can't do it, Nat! Here is where you get a first-class, A No. 1, bath!"
was the cry, and then the victim was sent flat on his back on the wooden
slide. He let up a shriek of agony, and another shriek as he commenced
to slide down. Then he lost his nerve completely, and uttered yell after
yell, only ending when he struck the sawdust with such force that he
turned a complete somersault and got some sawdust in his mouth and nose.

"My, but he certainly knows how to scream!" remarked Dave, as he and the
others rushed below, to join the crowd. "I hope he doesn't rouse the
neighborhood."

When the cloth was removed from Nat's eyes, and he had a chance to see
where he had landed, he was the maddest lad present. All the other
victims were laughing at him, and the club members almost doubled up in
their mirth.

"Think you're smart, don't you?" he snarled. "But you just wait!"

"Want more of the initiation?" demanded Buster.

"No, I don't! You let me go! I'm going back to the school!"

"So are we, Nat, and you'll go with us," answered Shadow. "Don't let him
get away from us!" he whispered to his friends.

"Well, this winds up the initiation," said Buster, throwing off his
headgear, a movement that was followed by the others. "You fellows are
now full-fledged members of the Gee Eyes."

"And I'm glad it is over," answered one of the victims. "Say, but that
was a dandy shoot the chutes!" he added, half in admiration.

"It is not quite as firm as it might be," said Dave. "It needs more
bracing up on the sides. The carpenters aren't done, I suppose."

"I thought it was mighty shaky myself," put in Phil. "Why, once I
thought it was going down with us."

"Oh, it's as sound as a dollar!" cried Shadow. "Of course, with such a
crowd----"

Shadow did not finish, for from above the boys in the sawdust pit, there
came a sudden ominous cracking. In the semi-darkness of the night they
saw a brace snap in twain. Another brace quickly followed, and then the
wooden slide commenced to sway from side to side.

"It's coming down!" yelled Roger, hoarsely. "Get out of here
quick--unless you want to be killed!"




CHAPTER XIX

SNEAK AGAINST SNEAK


It was a time of extreme peril for the boys in the sawdust pit at the
bottom of the wooden slide, and nobody realized this more thoroughly
than did Dave. In some manner the wooden bracings had become loosened,
and the ponderous slide was in danger of coming down with a mighty crash
on their heads. If it did this, more than likely some of the lads would
be seriously injured, if not killed.

"Jump from the pit!" yelled Dave, and caught Phil by one hand and Roger
by the other. All made a wild scramble, kicking the sawdust in all
directions.

"Let me get out of here!"

"Confound this robe, I'm all tangled up in it!"

"My foot is caught! Help me, won't you?"

Such were some of the cries that arose, as, in a bunch, the boys tried
to get out of the sawdust pit. All succeeded but Buster Beggs, who,
while on the rim of the pit, slipped and fell back,--just as another
brace snapped, and the ponderous wooden slide sagged still more.