Books: The New Boy at Hilltop
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Ralph Henry Barbour >> The New Boy at Hilltop
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Four days before the first game with Upper House--the championship shield
went to the team winning two games out of three--Lower House held an
enthusiastic meeting at which songs and cheers were practiced and at which
the forty odd fellows in attendance pledged themselves for various sums of
money to defray the cost of new suits and paraphernalia for both the basket
ball and hockey teams.
"How much do you give?" whispered Kenneth.
"Five dollars," answered Joe, his pencil poised above the little slip of
paper. Kenneth stared.
"But--isn't that a good bit?" he asked incredulously.
"It seems so when you only get twenty dollars a month allowance," answered
Joe ruefully. "But every fellow gives what he thinks he ought to, you know;
Graft usually gives ten dollars, but lots of the fellows can only give
fifty cents."
"I see," murmured Kenneth. "'What he thinks he ought to give, eh? That's
easy."
The following afternoon Upper and Lower Houses turned out _en masse_ to see
the first of the hockey series and stood ankle-deep in the new snow while
Upper proceeded to administer a generous trouncing to her rival.
"Eat 'em up, Upper! Eat 'em up, Upper!" gleefully shouted the supporters of
the blue-stockinged players along the opposite barrier.
"Oh, forget it!" growled Joe, pulling the collar of his red sweater higher
about his neck and turning a disgusted back to the rink. "That's 14 to 3,
isn't it? Well, it must be pretty near over, that's one comfort! Hello,
here comes Whipple. Gee, but he makes me tired! Always trying to mix with
the fellows. I wonder if he was born with that ugly smile of his. He's
coming this way," Joe groaned. "He thinks I'm such a nice little boy and
says he hopes my heart is of gold to match my hair! Wouldn't that peev
you?"
"Ah, Brewster," greeted Mr. Whipple, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder,
"how goes it today?" He accorded Kenneth a curt nod.
"Going bad," growled Joe.
"Well, well, we must take the bad with the good," said the instructor
sweetly. "Even defeat has its lesson, you know. Now--"
But Kenneth didn't hear the rest. Grafton Hyde was beside him with a slip
of paper in his hand.
"Say, Garwood," said Grafton loudly enough to be heard by the audience near
by, "I wish you'd tell me about this. It's your subscription slip. These
figures look like a one and two naughts, but I guess you meant ten dollars
instead of one, didn't you?"
"No," answered Kenneth calmly.
"Oh! But--only a dollar?" inquired Grafton incredulously.
The fellows nearest at hand who had been either watching the game or
delighting in Joe's discomforture turned their attention to Grafton and the
new junior.
"Exactly," answered Kenneth. "The figures are perfectly plain, aren't
they?"
Grafton shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
"Oh, all right," he said. "Only a dollar seemed rather little, and I wanted
to be sure--"
"Didn't anyone else give a dollar?" demanded Kenneth.
"We don't make public the amounts received," answered Grafton with much
dignity. Kenneth smiled sarcastically.
"What are you doing now?" he asked.
"I merely asked--"
"And I answered. That's enough, isn't it?"
"Yes, but let me tell you that we don't take to stingy fellows in Lower
House. You'd better get moved to Upper, Garwood; that's where you belong.
You're a fresh kid, and I guess we don't have to have your subscription
anyway." He tore the slip up contemptuously and tossed the pieces to the
snow. Kenneth colored.
"Just as you like," he answered. "I subscribed what I thought proper and
you've refused to accept it. You haven't worried me."
But a glance over the faces of the little throng showed that public
sentiment was against him. Well, that couldn't be helped now. He turned his
back and gave his attention to the game. But the incident was not yet
closed. Mr. Whipple's smooth voice sounded in its most conciliatory tones:
"We all know your generosity, Hyde. Let us hope that by next year Garwood
will have learned from you the spirit of giving."
Kenneth swung around and faced the instructor.
"May I ask, sir, how much you gave?"
"Me? Why--ah--I think the teachers are not required--I should say expected
to--ah--contribute," answered Mr. Whipple agitatedly.
"I guess they aren't forbidden to," answered Kenneth. "And I don't believe
you've got any right to criticise the size of my subscription until you've
given something yourself."
Mr. Whipple's smile grew tremulous and almost flickered out.
"I'm sure that the boys of the Lower House know that I am always ready and
eager to aid in any way," he replied with angry dignity, "If they will
allow me to contribute--" He paused and viewed the circle smilingly.
The idea tickled all hands hugely.
"Yes, sir!"
"Thank you, sir!"
"About five dollars, Mr. Whipple!"
Mr. Whipple's smile grew strained and uneasy. He had not expected
acceptance of his offer.
"Yes, yes, perhaps it is best to keep the donations confined to the student
body," he said. "Perhaps at another time you'll allow--"
"Right now, sir!" cried Joe. "Give us a couple of dollars, sir!"
The demand could not be disregarded. Shouts of approval arose on every
hand. On the ice, Wason of the Upper House team had hurt his knee and time
had been called; and the waiting players flocked to the barrier to see what
was up. Mr. Whipple looked questioningly at Grafton and found that youth
regarding him expectantly. With a sigh which was quickly stifled he drew
forth his pocketbook and selected a two dollar note from the little roll it
contained. He handed it to Grafton who accepted it carelessly.
"Thanks," said Grafton. "I'll send you a receipt, sir."
"Oh, that is not necessary," replied Mr. Whipple. Now that the thing was
past mending he made the best of it. His smile had returned in all its
serenity. "And now, Garwood," he said, "as I have complied with your
requirements, allow me to say that your conduct has not been--ah--up to
Hilltop standards. Let me suggest that you cultivate generosity."
Kenneth, who had kept his back turned since his last words, swung around
with an angry retort on his lips. But Joe's hand pulled him back.
"Shut up, chum!" whispered Joe. "Let him go."
Kenneth, swallowed, his anger and Mr. Whipple, with a smiling nod, followed
by a quick malevolent glance at Joe, turned away from the group of grinning
faces.
Chuckles and quiet snickers followed him.
There was joy in the ranks of the enemy.
Only Kenneth showed no satisfaction over the instructor's discomfiture for
he realized that the latter would hold him partly accountable for it.
Presently, the game having come to an end with the score 18 to 7 in Upper's
favor, he and Joe went back together up the hill.
"I wish," said Joe, with a frown, "you hadn't made that fuss about the
subscription. Fellows will think you're stingy, I'm afraid."
"Well, they'll have to think so then," responded Kenneth defiantly.
"Anyhow, Hyde had no business pitching into me about it like that in
public."
"No, that's so," Joe acknowledged. "He hadn't. I guess he's got it in for
you good and hard. But don't you be worried."
"I'm not," answered Kenneth. And he didn't look to be.
"I'm going to see Jim Marble before Graft gets at him with a lot of yarns
about you," Joe continued.
"Thanks," said Kenneth. "I wish you would. I don't want to lose all show
for the team."
"You bet you don't! You're getting on finely, too, aren't you? I don't see
how you work those long throws of yours. Graft says it's just your fool
luck," Joe chuckled. "I asked him why he didn't cultivate a little luck
himself! He's been playing like a baby so far; sloppy's no name for it!"
"Think Marble notices it?"
"Of course he notices it! Jim doesn't miss a thing. Why?"
"Nothing, only--well, I've made up my mind to beat Grafton out; and I'm
going to do it!"
Two days later there was deeper gloom than ever in Lower House. Upper had
won the first basket ball game! And the score, 14 to 6, didn't offer ground
for comfort. There was no good reason to suppose that the next game, coming
a week later, would result very differently. Individually three at least of
the five players had done brilliant work, Marble at center. Joe at left
forward and Collier at left guard having won applause time and again. But
Upper had far excelled in team work, especially on offense, and Lower's
much-heralded speed hadn't shown up. On the defense, all things considered,
Lower had done fairly well, although most of the honor belonged to Collier
at left guard, Grafton Hyde having played a slow, blundering game in which
he had apparently sought to substitute roughness for science. More than
half of the fouls called on the Red had been made by Grafton. And, even
though Upper had no very certain basket thrower, still she couldn't have
helped making a fair share of those goals from fouls.
Kenneth hadn't gone on until the last minute of play, and he had not
distinguished himself. In fact his one play had been a failure. He had
taken Grafton's place at right guard. Carl Jones, Upper's big center, stole
the ball in the middle of the floor and succeeded in getting quite away
from the field. Kenneth saw the danger and gave chase, but his lack of
weight was against him. Jones brushed him aside, almost under the basket,
and, while Kenneth went rolling over out of bounds, tossed the easiest sort
of a goal.
But Kenneth's lack of success on that occasion caused him to work harder
than ever in practice, and, on the following Thursday the long-expected
happened. Grafton Hyde went to the second team and Kenneth took his place
at right guard on the first.
IV
Grafton could scarcely believe it at first. When he discovered that Jim
Marble really meant that he was to go to the second team his anger almost
got the better of him, and the glance he turned from Jim to Kenneth held
nothing of affection. But he took his place at right guard on the second
and, although with ill grace, played the position while practice lasted.
Kenneth took pains to keep away from him, since there was no telling what
tricks he might be up to. The first team put it all over the second that
day and Jim Marble was smiling when time was called and the panting players
tumbled downstairs to the showers. On Friday practice was short. After it
was over Kenneth stopped at the library on his way back to Lower House.
When he opened the door of Number 12 he found Joe with his books spread
out, studying.
"Hello, where have you been?" asked Joe. "Graft was in here a minute ago
looking for you. Said if you came in before dinner to ask you to go up to
his room a minute. Of course," said Joe, grinning, "he may intend to throw
you out of the window or give you poison, but he talked sweetly enough.
Still, maybe you'd better stay away; perhaps he's just looking for a chance
to quarrel."
Kenneth thought a minute. Then he turned toward the door.
"Going?" asked Joe.
"Yes."
"Well, if you're not back by six I'll head a rescue party."
Grafton Hyde roomed by himself on the third floor. His two rooms, on the
corner of the building, were somewhat elaborately furnished, as befitted
the apartments of "the richest fellow in school." He had chosen the third
floor because he was under surveillance less strict than were the first and
second floor boys. The teacher on the third floor was Mr. Whipple and, as
his rooms were at the other end of the hall and as he paid little attention
at best to his charges, Grafton did about as he pleased. To-night there was
no light shining through the transom when Kenneth reached Number 21 and he
decided that Grafton was out. But he would make sure and so knocked at the
door. To his surprise he was told to come in. As he opened the door a chill
draft swept by him, a draft at once redolent of snow and of cigarette
smoke. The room was in complete darkness, but a form was outlined against
one of the windows, the lower sash of which was fully raised, and a tiny
red spark glowed there. Kenneth paused on the threshold.
"Who is it?" asked Grafton's voice.
"Garwood," was the reply. "Joe said you wanted me to look you up."
The spark suddenly dropped out of sight, evidently tossed through the open
window.
"Oh," said Grafton with a trace of embarrassment. "Er--wait a moment and
I'll light up."
"Don't bother," said Kenneth. "I can't stay but a minute. I just thought
I'd see what you wanted."
"Well, you'll find a chair there by the table," said Grafton, sinking back
on the window seat. "Much obliged to you for coming up."
There was a silence during which Kenneth found the chair and Grafton pulled
down the window. Then,
"Look here, Garwood," said Grafton, "you've got my place on the team, I
don't say you didn't get it fair and square, because you did. But I want
it. You know me pretty well and I guess you know I generally get what I
want. You're a pretty good sort, and you're a friend of Joe's, and I like
Joe, but I might make it mighty uncomfortable for you if I wanted to, which
I don't. I'll tell you what I'll do, Garwood. You get yourself back on the
second team and I'll make it right with you. If you need a little money--"
"Is that all?" asked Kenneth, rising.
"Hold on! Don't get waxy! Wait till I explain. I'll give you twenty-five
dollars, Garwood. You can do a whole lot with twenty-five dollars. And
that's a mighty generous offer. All you've got to do is to play off for a
couple of days. Tomorrow you could be kind of sick and not able to play. No
one would think anything about it, and you can bet I wouldn't breathe a
word of it. What do you say?"
"I say you're a confounded cad!" cried Kenneth hotly.
"Oh, you do, eh? I haven't offered enough, I suppose!" sneered Grafton. "I
might have known that a fellow who would only give a dollar to the teams
would be a hard bargainer! Well, I'm not stingy; I'll call it thirty. Now,
what do you say?"
"When you get your place back it'll be by some other means than buying it,"
said Kenneth contemptuously. He turned toward the door. "You haven't got
enough money to buy everything, you see; and--"
There was a sharp knock on the door.
"If you say anything about this," whispered Grafton hoarsely, "I'll--I'll--
Come in!"
"Who is here?" asked Mr. Whipple's voice as the door swung open.
"I, sir, and Garwood," answered Grafton.
"Ah! Garwood! And which one of you, may I ask, has been smoking
cigarettes?"
There was a moment's silence. Then,
"Nobody in here, sir," answered Grafton.
"That will do, Hyde. Don't attempt to shield him," said Mr. Whipple coldly.
"Light the gas, please."
Grafton slid off the window seat and groped toward where Kenneth was
standing.
"Yes, sir," he said, "as soon as I can find a match." He brushed heavily
against Kenneth.
"I beg your pardon, Garwood. I'm all turned around. Where--? Oh, here they
are." A match flared and Grafton lighted the droplight. Mr. Whipple turned
to Kenneth, a triumphant smile on his thin features.
"Well, what have you to say?" he asked.
"About what, sir!" inquired Kenneth.
"About smoking. You deny it, then."
"Yes."
"Ah! And what about this!" Mr. Whipple opened his hand and displayed a
portion of a cigarette with charred end. "You should be more careful where
you throw them, Garwood. This came from the window just as I was passing
below."
"It's not mine," was the answer.
"Oh, then it was you, Hyde?"
Grafton smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"If you can find any cigarettes in my room, sir, you--"
"Pshaw! What's the use in pretending?" interrupted the instructor, viewing
Kenneth balefully. "I fancy I know where to look for cigarettes, eh,
Garwood? You have no objection to emptying your pockets for me?"
"None at all, Mr. Whipple."
"Then, may I suggest that you do so?"
Kenneth dove into one pocket and brought out a handkerchief and a small
piece of pencil, into the other and--
"Ah!" said Mr. Whipple triumphantly.
In Kenneth's hand lay a piece of folded paper, a skate strap and--a box of
cigarettes! He stared at the latter bewilderedly for a moment. Then he
glanced sharply at Grafton. That youth regarded him commiseratingly and
slowly shook his head.
"I'll take those, if you please," said Mr. Whipple. Kenneth handed them
over.
"I never saw them before," he said simply.
"Oh, of course not," jeered the instructor. "And the room rank with
cigarette smoke! That's a pretty tall story, I think, Garwood. You told me
once that I would never catch you smoking cigarettes. You see you were a
trifle mistaken. You may go to your room."
"I wasn't smoking cigarettes," protested Kenneth. "I never saw that box
before in my life. If Hyde won't tell, I will. I came up here and found
him--"
He stopped. What was the use? Telling on another fellow was mean work, and,
besides, Mr. Whipple wouldn't believe him. He had no proof to offer and all
the evidence was against him. He turned to the door. On the threshold he
looked back at Grafton.
"You sneak!" he said softly.
Then, with the angry tears blinding his eyes, he hurried down to his room
to unburden his heart to Joe Brewster.
Joe was wildly indignant and was all for dashing upstairs and "knocking the
spots out of Graft!" But Kenneth refused his consent to such a procedure.
"I'll tell them the truth when they call me up," he said. "If they don't
believe me they needn't."
Well, they didn't. Kenneth refused to incriminate Grafton and as all the
evidence was strongly against him he was held guilty. The verdict was
"suspension" as soon as Kenneth's parents could be communicated with.
Grafton denied having smoked with Kenneth and got off with a lecture for
permitting an infraction of the rules in his study. Joe stormed and
sputtered, but as Kenneth had bound him to secrecy he could do no more.
That night Upper and Lower met in the second basket-ball game and Grafton
Hyde played right guard on the Lower House team. Fate was kind to the Beds.
Knox, Upper's crack right forward, was out of the game with a twisted ankle
and when the last whistle blew the score board declared Lower House the
winner by a score of 12 to 9. And Lower House tramped through the snow,
around and around the campus, and made night hideous with songs and cheers
until threatened by the faculty with dire punishment if they did not at
once retire to their rooms. And up in Number 12 Kenneth, feeling terribly
out of it all, heard and was glad of the victory.
Sunday afternoon he spent in packing his trunk, for, in spite of Joe's
pleadings, he was determined not to return to Hilltop when his term of
suspension was over. He expected to hear from his father in the morning, in
which case he would take the noon train to New York on the first stage of
his journey.
That night they sat up late, since it was to be their last evening
together, and Joe was very miserable. He begged Kenneth to go to Dr.
Randall and tell just what had occurred. But Kenneth shook his head.
"He wouldn't believe me if I did," he said. "And, anyhow, what's the use of
staying while Whipple's here? He'd get me fired sooner or later. No, the
best way to do is to quit now. I'm sorry, Joe; you and I were getting on
together pretty well, weren't we?"
"Yes," answered Joe sadly. And then he became reminiscent and asked whether
Kenneth remembered the way they kicked the furniture around that first
evening and how Kenneth had joshed Grafton Hyde.
When they at last went to bed Kenneth found himself unable to sleep. Eleven
o'clock struck on the town clock. From across the room came Joe's regular
breathing and Kenneth, punching his pillow into a new shape, envied him.
For a half hour longer he tossed and turned, and then slumber came to him,
yet so fitfully that he was wide awake and out of bed the instant that that
first shrill cry of "_Fire!_" sounded in the corridor.
V
Kenneth's first act after hearing the alarm was to awake Joe, This he did
by the simple expedient of yanking the bedclothes away from him and yelling
"Fire!" at the top of his lungs. Then, stumbling over the chairs, he groped
his way to the hall door and opened it. The corridor was already filled
with excitement and confusion. Of the eighteen boys who roomed on that
floor fully half were in evidence, standing dazedly about in pyjamas or
night shirts and shouting useless questions and absurd answers. Simms, who
lived at the far end of the corridor, emerged from his room dragging a
steamer trunk after him. Instantly the scantily clad youths dashed into
their rooms intent on rescuing their belongings. Joe joined Kenneth at the
door.
"Where's the fire?" he gasped.
"I don't know," answered Kenneth, "but I can smell it. Get something on;
I'm going to. Has anyone given the alarm?" he asked, as Simms hurried back
toward his study.
"Yes! No! I don't know! Everything's on fire upstairs! You'd better get
your things out!"
"Somebody ought to give the alarm," said Kenneth. "Who's seen Mr. Bronson?"
But none had time to answer him. Kenneth scooted down the hall and thumped
at the instructor's door. There was no answer and Kenneth unceremoniously
shoved it open. The study was in darkness.
"_Mr. Bronson!_" he cried. "_Mr. Bronson!_"
There was no reply, and Kenneth recollected that very frequently Mr.
Bronson spent Sunday night at his home. He hurried back to his own room and
found Joe throwing their belongings out of the windows. At that moment the
bell on School Hall began to clang wildly and a second afterwards the alarm
was taken up by the fire bell in the village, a mile away.
Kenneth pulled on his trousers and shoes, looked for a coat only to find
that Joe had thrown all the coats out of the windows, and went back to the
corridor. All up and down it boys were staggering along with trunks and
bags, while from the western end the smoke was volleying forth from Number
19 in great billowy clouds. From the floor above raced fellows with suit
cases and small trunks, shouting and laughing in the excitement of the
moment.
One of the older boys, Harris by name, came galloping upstairs with a fire
extinguisher, followed by a crowd of partly dressed fellows from Upper
House. But the smoke which filled the end of the corridor drove them back
and the stream from the extinguisher wasted itself against the fast
yellowing plaster of the wall. The building was rapidly becoming
uninhabitable and, calling Joe from the study, where he was vainly trying
to get the study table through the casement, Kenneth made for the stairs.
The light at the far end of the corridor shone red and murky through the
dense clouds of smoke.
"All out of the building!" cried a voice from below, and the half dozen
adventurous spirits remaining in the second floor corridor started down the
stairs.
"Do you know how it began?" asked Joe of a boy beside him.
"Yes," was the reply. "King, in 19, was reading in bed with a lamp he has,
and he went to sleep and upset it somehow. He got burned, they say."
"Serves him right," muttered some one. Kenneth glanced around and found
Grafton Hyde beside him.
"Hello," said Kenneth.
"Hello," answered Grafton. "Did you save anything?"
"Yes, I guess so," Kenneth replied. "Did you?"
For the moment animosities were forgotten, wiped out of existence by the
calamity.
"Not much," said Grafton. "But I don't care. I tried to get my trunk down
but the smoke was fierce and the end of the building was all in flames. So
I lit out."
The lower hall was crowded with boys. Dr. Randall, tall and gaunt in a red
flowered dressing gown, and several of the instructors were doing their
best to clear the building.
"All out, boys!" called the doctor. "It isn't safe here now! The firemen
will be here in a minute and you'll only be in the way! I want you all to
go over to Upper House!"
"Hello!" said Kenneth. "What's the matter with you, Jasper?"
Jasper Hendricks, the youngest boy in school, was crouched in a dim corner
of the hall, sobbing and shaking as though his heart was broken.
"What's up?" asked Grafton.
"Don't know. Here's young Jasper crying like a good one. What's the
trouble, Jasper? Did you get hurt?"
But the boy apparently didn't even hear them.
"Lost his things, probably," suggested Grafton, "and feels it. Never mind,
kid? you'll get some more."
"I want every boy out of the building!" cried the doctor. But his voice was
almost drowned in the babel of cries and shouts and laughter.
"Come on, Jasper," said Kenneth, trying to raise him to his feet. "We've
got to get out."
For the first time he caught a glimpse of the boy's face. It was white and
drawn and horror stricken.
"What's the matter?" cried Kenneth in alarm. Young Hendrick's lips moved
but Kenneth could not distinguish the whispered words.
"Eh? What's that? Speak louder! You're all right now! Don't be scared! What
is it?" And Kenneth bent his head as the younger boy clung to him
convulsively.
"_Mister Whipple!_"
Kenneth barely caught the whispered words.
"Mr. Whipple," he muttered. "What does he mean?" He pulled the lad's body
around so that he could see his face in the smoke-dimmed light. "What about
him, Jasper? He's safe, isn't he?"
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