Fast Nine; or, A Challenge from Fairfield Page 3

  CHAPTER I.

  ON THE WAY HOME FROM THE FISHING HOLE.

  A PARTY of five boys, ranging in age around fifteen or sixteen, trudgedrather wearily along the bank of a small stream known as the SunflowerRiver. Some miles beyond this point it merged its clear waters withthose of the broader Sweetwater, which river has figured before now inthese stories of the Hickory Ridge boys.

  As they carried several strings of pretty good-looking fish, the chanceswere the straggling group must have been over at the larger streamtrying their luck. And as black bass have a failing for beginning tobite just when fellows ought to be starting for home this would accountfor evening finding them still some distance from Hickory Ridge and ajolly supper.

  "Another long mile, and then we'll be there, fellows," sighed thestoutest one of the bunch, who was panting every little while, becauseof the warm pace set by his more agile chums.

  "Hey, just listen to Landy puff, will you, boys!" laughed ChatzMaxfield, whose accent betrayed his Southern birth.

  "He keeps getting fatter every day, I do believe," joked Mark Cummings,a clean-cut young chap with a clear eye and resolute bearing.

  "Now, that ain't exactly fair, Mark," complained the object of thismirth, in a reproachful tone, "and you know it. Don't I take exerciseevery day just to reduce my flesh? Why, I'm making a regular martyr ofmyself, my mom says, ever since I joined the Boy Scouts, so that I cankeep my own with the rest of you. She says if I keep it up I'll soon beskin and bones, that's what!"

  A shout arose from the entire bunch at this. The idea of that fat boyever reaching a point where such a term could be applied to him wassimply ridiculous.

  "What time is it, Chatz; since you seem to be the only one in the lotwho had the good sense and also the decency to fetch a watch along?"

  The Southern boy readily pulled out a little nickel timepiece, andconsulted it, but the dusk was coming fast, so that he had to bend lowin order to make sure of the right figures.

  "Half past seven, fellows," he announced.

  "Wow, won't my folks just be worried about me, though!" exclaimed a verytall boy, whose build would indicate that he was something of asprinter; and whose name being Arthur Stansbury, his mates, after theusual perversity of boys in general, had promptly nicknamed him "LilArtha."

  "I don't think they'll be alarmed, because they know a bad penny is sureto turn up," laughed Mark, immediately dodging a friendly blow from thelengthy arm of his comrade.

  "Hold on, I've lost my cap," declared the one who had dodged, but theothers made no move toward stopping; supper was a mile away, and theyfelt hungry enough to eat a houseful.

  Three minutes later Mark came running after them, still bareheaded.

  "Hello!" exclaimed the lad who had asked Chatz for the time, and whoseemed to bear the earmarks of a leader among them, as Elmer Chenowithreally was, being at the head of the Wolf Patrol, and accredited as anassistant scout master in the Hickory Ridge Boy Scout Troop--"How aboutthis, Mark; where's your cap?"

  "Couldn't find it, that's all," laughed the other, good naturedly;"perhaps it went into the river. Anyhow, it's getting that dark Icouldn't see the thing, and as you fellows were in such a raging hurry Ijust gave it up."

  "Oh, say, that's too bad," declared Chatz; "I'll turn back with you,Mark, if you give the word."

  "Oh, shucks! it isn't worth it, Chatz, though I'm just as much obligedto you as if we went. It's an old cap, anyhow, and even if it wentsailing down the Sunflower it wouldn't matter much. I've got anotherbesides my campaign hat. And if it doesn't rain in the morning I maytake a run over here on my wheel. Move along, fellows; I can justimagine I smell that bully good supper that's being kept for me at ourhouse."

  "Yum, yum, that strikes me," exclaimed Landy, whose one weakness was alove for eating, despite his declaration to the effect that he was dailycutting down his rations in order to reduce his girth. "And I happen toknow they're having fried eggplant to-night. If there's one thing I justlike above every other dish it's fried eggplant, and plenty of it. Aw!"and he sighed to think that a whole mile still lay between himself andthat beloved delicacy.

  "All I can say is, that it's mighty lucky we don't have a meetingto-night, that's what," remarked Chatz; "because we'd never be able toget there after this long hike. But, honest, fellows, I think it paid.I never had more fun pulling out black bass than to-day. And whew, howthey do fight up here! Why, down in the warmer waters of my state, SouthCarolina, we have the big-mouth bass, which the natives call greentrout, and he comes in as logy as an old piece of tree stump, afterabout one little tussle."

  "But I reckon there are heaps of game fighters up in that old pond atMunsey's mill," remarked Lil Artha.

  "There may be, if those fish pirates left any," declared Mark. "You knowthe game and fish warden found and destroyed a lot of nets, even if hedidn't get the Italian poachers. But that's too far away from home,anyway; and I think we'll have to leave the bass that live in that pondto the ghost of the haunted mill."

  A general laugh followed this declaration. The scouts had recently beenon a long tramp to the mill in question, an abandoned place which wasshunned by all the country people for certain causes. But while they hadmet with sundry adventures of considerable importance while there, noneof them could claim to have run across the ghost said to be in charge ofthe old rookery.

  This had been a subject of great disappointment to Chatz Maxfield inparticular, for he secretly cherished more or less of a belief inghosts, having probably been inoculated with the weakness as a verysmall boy, when he had for playmates ignorant and superstitious blacks,on the South Carolina rice plantation that had been his home untilrecently.

  "Hey! what did Matt Tubbs have to say to you, Elmer?" suddenly asked LilArtha. "I saw him talking like a Dutch uncle when I was waiting for youto come along this noon."

  The boy in question was known as a bully. He lived in the neighboringtown of Fairfield, which adjoined Cramertown, so that the two might bereckoned one continuous settlement. And strangely enough, Matt's housewas said to be half in one place and half in the other.

  Matt Tubbs had given the boys of Hickory Ridge more or less trouble inyears past. He was a natural leader, and rather a tough character aswell, ruling the fellows in Fairfield and Cramertown with a rod of iron.

  Frequently the Hickory Ridge boys had been influenced to engage infriendly rivalry with those of the neighboring place, but it happenedthat as a rule these contests broke up in a row, and more than onepitched battle had resulted.

  For more than a year, now, Elmer and his chums had positively refused tohave anything to do with the Fairfield boys. They had even turned downseveral invitations to bridge the chasm and start on a new deal, becausethey believed that so long as Matt Tubbs was in control, just so longwould rough-house tactics be brought into play whenever the game wentagainst the Fairfield players.

  But lately Matt Tubbs had seen a new light. The organizing of theHickory Ridge Troop of Boy Scouts had inspired him with a desire tofollow suit. But while he could find plenty of material in the twotowns, the great difficulty seemed to be in subscribing to the twelvecardinal principles which every candidate has to profess before he canbecome even a tenderfoot scout.

  Matt had in secret hovered around the meeting places of the HickoryRidge fellows. In this way he had heard things that simply amazed him,and set him to thinking deeply. Then he had chanced to have anexperience with Elmer and his followers at a time when the scouts werecalled on to find a little boy who had been kidnapped by hisstep-father, an ignorant and drink-crazed rascal.

  Matt Tubbs had been fascinated by the many things he had seen Elmer doin the line of woodcraft, and then and there he had declared that he wasgoing to subscribe to the entire list of regulations as set forth in themanual of the scouts.

  And Elmer had given him his hand at the time, promising to do all hecould to assist him get his troop started.

  The leader of the Wolf Patrol laughed softly when Lil Artha put thisquestion at
him so directly.

  "I really meant to tell you all about it," he said, "but somehow it justseemed to slip my mind, we've been having such a jolly afternoon. Factis, Matt being over in the Ridge on some business for his father, jumpedoff his wheel at seeing me, because he had some important news."

  "Has he got his troop organized, then?" asked Lil Artha.

  "That's just what he has; seventeen fellows have already signed theroll, with a promise of several more. That makes two complete patrols,and then some. Matt says they're wild over it in his town. The peopleare going to let them have a room in the old Baptist church, andeverybody promises to help along. I reckon the good people of Fairfieldunderstand that the coming of the Boy Scouts will mean a moral awakeningin their place."

  "And they need it, all right," declared Chatz, positively. "Why, suh,I'm told that during the last seven yeahs Fairfield, that used to be amodel town, has become the toughest place in this part of the state. Andthe way Matt Tubbs led his gang has been the main cause. It was a ruleor ruin policy. If they couldn't win a baseball game squarely they'dstart a little riot, and have the umpire give it to 'em, nine tonothing."

  "Well, I rather think that's all in the past," said Elmer. "If Matt doeshalf he declares he means to do, it's going to be the biggest thingthat ever happened for the boys of Fairfield and Cramertown. Andsomething more, fellows. I just rather guess we'd better be brushing upall we know of the great American national game of baseball. For Mattsays he and his team are going to challenge the Hickory Ridge scouts toa big game."

  "Hear, hear!" shouted Lil Artha, executing a regular hoedown to provehow joyful the news made him. "Why, fellows, d'ye know I'm just wild toget in the game again against a club that really counts. All we've donethis summer has been to mow down the little chaps around the Ridge, andit was too easy. Matt will put a team in the field worth beating, and weall know what a player he is himself when he wants to do the rightthing. So I say bully, bully all around!"

  "Do you think his turning over a new leaf will hold good," asked Chatz;"or is he apt to drop back into his old ways if we happen to get a goodlead, and bully the umpire into giving his side all the chances?"

  "Well, of course I couldn't say for sure," replied Elmer, "but Mattseems dead set on cutting a straight swathe from now on, and there's thebest chance of his doing it that ever happened, because he has simplygot to choose between doing the square thing to others or getting out ofthe scout movement. No crooked work will go when a fellow has faithfullypromised to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly,courteous, kind, obedient to his superiors, cheerful, thrifty, brave,clean and reverent."

  "You're right, it won't, Elmer," assented Mark, positively. "And yet ifMatt has changed right-about face, so that he can live up to thatagreement I'm ready to believe the world is coming to an end."

  "Me, too!" echoed Lil Artha, who had had several personal conflictswith the bully of Fairfield, and distrusted him exceedingly.

  "Just wait and see," said Elmer; and the subject was dropped as theyhurried on toward the lights of Hickory Ridge that began to appear nearby.