The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics

H. Irving (Harrie Irving) Hancock

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• Publié par: uctya
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 44
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics, by H. Irving Hancock This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics Author: H. Irving Hancock Release Date: June 25, 2004 [eBook #12735] Language: English ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER ATHLETICS*** E-text prepared by Jim Ludwig The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics or, Dick & Co. Make Their Fame Secure By H. Irving Hancock CONTENTS CHAPTERS I. A Jolt on a Quiet Day II. The Vanishing Man III. Dick Marches His Nine On IV. The Story of the Uniforms V. North Grammars Play Real Ball VI. Setting With a Teaser VII. Ted Teall Faces the Storm VIII. Two Rivals Plan Dire Revenge IX. Hi Martin Tries to Make Terms X. "Babbling Butt-in" XI. Ted Feels the Flare-Back XII. The North Grammar Captain Grilled XIII. "Big Injun—-Heap Big Noise" XIV. "Crazy as a Porous Plaster" XV. Bluffing Up to the Bug Game XVI. "Ted's Terrors" Full of Fight XVII. Dodge and Ripley Hear Something XVIII. Hi's Swimming Challenge XIX. Dave Darrin Flashes Fire XX. Arranging the Swimming Match XXI. Old Dut Gives Wise Counsel XXII. Hi Hears Something Elevating XXIII. Who Won the Swimming Matches? XXIV. ConclusionChapter I A JOLT ON A QUIET DAY "There's just one thing that I keep thinking about on a day like this," Dave Darrin sighed contentedly. "What's that?" Tom Reade wanted to know. "Supper?" Darrin turned, favoring Reade with a flash of disgust from his large, dark eyes. "I'm still waiting for the information," insisted Tom after a short pause. "You may as well wait," retorted Dave. "You wouldn't understand what I feel, anyway. Any fellow who can keep his mind on supper, on a grand June day like this——-" "I imagine that you'll keep your mind on the meal when you reach the table," predicted Tom, grinning. "That'll be time enough," Dave rejoined. "But I'm not going to profane the woods, on a perfect June day, by thinking of kitchen odors." "Say, aren't you feeling well?" asked Tom gravely. "That's just the point, I guess," broke in Dick Prescott, with a light laugh. "Dave is feeling so extremely well and happy ——-" "Now, you're shouting," Darrin assented. "But it's no use for poor Reade to ponder over the glories of nature. All he can think of is the region bounded by his belt." "Glories of nature?" repeated Reade. "If that's what you're talking about, why didn't you announce your subject earlier? Yes, sir; nature is at her greenest best to-day. Just look off through that line of trees, and see how the light breeze moves the tops in that field of young corn, and——-" "Corn?" flared Dave. "Something to eat, of course! Tom, you're hopeless when it comes to the finer things of life. You ought to have been born in a pen, close to a well-filled trough. Corn, indeed!" "This country would probably be bankrupt if there were no corn crop, and you'd be digging hard for a living, instead of being a lazy schoolboy," retorted Reade, with an indulgent smile. "Let me see; how many hundred million dollars did Old Dut tell us the annual corn crop brings in wealth to this country?" All of the other boys, save Dave, glanced at Tom, but all shook their heads. Statistics do not mix well in a Grammar School boy's head. "Oh, well, it was a lot of money, anyway," Tom pursued his subject. "I wouldn't mind having all the money that the American corn crop brings." "So you could buy the fanciest kinds of food, I suppose?" jeered Dave Darrin. "Never mind, Darry; if I had a lot of money I'd buy you the biggest and softest mattress I could find, so that you'd have nothing to do but lie off by yourself, look up at the green leaves and dream your summers away. That lying on your back and looking up at the sky is what you call reverie, isn't it?" "Quit your kidding!" ordered Dave. "Is it reverie?" asked Harry Hazelton, "or just plain laziness that ails Dave?" "Laziness, of course," laughed Tom. "Dave, I guess Harry has more sense in naming things than any of us. Yes; that's it! And Dick thought it was merely poetic temperament." "Temperament? What's that?" grinned Dan Dalzell. "Is that what you get in June by adding up the column of figures in the thermometer?" To signify his lack of interest in the talk, Darrin rolled over on his side, turning his gaze away from the other boys. In another minute Dave's eyes were closed, his lips open and his breath coming regularly and audibly. Such was the droning effect of the warm June breezes on this glorious afternoon. "Give Dave the chorus of 'He Was the Sleepiest Boy,'" whispered Greg to the others. "Put a lot of steam into every line!" At a sign from young Holmes the drowsy chorus rolled out, punctuated by timely yawns.Darry rolled over, yawning, too, an easy-going smile on his face. "Greg," he charged, "I'm certain that you put the crowd up to that outrage. When I summon up energy enough I'm going to thrash you." "All right," agreed Greg, "I'll take boxing lessons within a year or two, so as to be prepared for you." "I wish this were to-morrow afternoon," grumbled Harry Hazelton. "I'm glad it's to-day," sighed Dave easily. "But to-morrow will be Monday, and we can play baseball." "And just because to-morrow will be Monday," retorted Dave, "Old Dut will expect us to bring in those fifteen examples in insurance." "We'll be all past that, by afternoon," Dan broke in. "Then, as soon as the bell rings to dismiss school, we'll all pile outside and have a ripping practice on the diamond." "Yes; we'll have to get a lot of practice," Dick assented. "Otherwise, you know, the North Grammar will just wipe up the field with us Wednesday afternoon." "The North Grammar!" sniffed Greg scornfully. "Hi Martin's crowd? Huh!" "Those North Grammar boys have been practising," Dick insisted. "Hard work is what tells in athletics." "Well, hang it, didn't you keep us running all through the spring?" demanded Dalzell. "Didn't you say that would put us away at the top in Grammar School baseball?" "It will help us a long way," assented Dick. "Yet it won't do everything. Each of us has to be as nearly perfect as possible in the position that he has to play. That's why we really need a lot more practice than we've had on the real field." "The worst of it is" suggested Tom, "that we've got all of the best players in the school on our regular nine, and the scrub nine isn't made up of fellows who can really give us any work." "Don't croak, Dick," begged Dave. "This day is too perfect to have it spoiled by any calamity howling." Presently Darrin rolled over on his side once more. Greg took a peep, became suspicious, and started to hum: "He was the Sleepiest Boy." Smack! came a small sod, with which Dave had slyly provided himself in advance. "Ugh! Gr-r-r-r!" sputtered young Holmes, leaping to his feet and spitting out the stuff from his mouth. It was mostly the grass side of the sod that had struck his teeth, but a little of the loam had gone in with it. "Good enough for me, I suppose," grimaced Greg, seating himself once more when he had cleaned his mouth fairly well. Dave, who had turned over to grin at Greg, soon rolled back to his old posture on the grass. Greg, however, was not disposed to let the matter pass as easily as the others imagined. Shortly Holmesy jumped astride of Dave and rolled that youth over on to his back. "I didn't eat all of the sod," young Holmes announced. "You may have the rest, Darry. How does it taste?" Dave shut his mouth tightly, but Greg held his nostrils. The instant that Darrin opened his mouth for air Holmes rammed in the piece of sod. Then he jumped up, retreating. It was now Dave's turn to jump up and work vigorously getting the stuff out of his month. "Tastes immense, doesn't it, Dave?" called Holmes tantalizingly. No answer in words came from Darrin, but he suddenly wheeled, charging straight at Greg. Doubtless the latter would have gotten out of the way safely, but that Dick thrust out a foot, tripping Dave as he bounded by. Darrin came down upon his knees. The hotheaded youth was now very close to being angry in earnest. "Hold up, Dave!" Prescott advised. "You started it, you know. You will have to show that a joke is just as funny whether it's going or coming." "That's right, old chap," agreed Dave, halting and beginning to cool. "Greg, come here and shake hands.""You shake hands with Tom," Holmes retorted suspiciously. "I appoint Tom my substitute, with full powers." "I'd sooner fight Tom than you," mused Dave, gazing down at Reade, who did not appear to be very much disturbed. "Tom is the fellow who's always bringing his appetite along on the finest days that heaven has sent us." Dick Prescott lazily drew out his watch and glanced at it. Then he rose, remarking: "You may stay here and get all the comfort you can out of nature, Dave. But it's half past five and I guess the rest of us will want to be nearer to the source of kitchen odors." "Whew! If it's any such time as that I'm going to move fast," cried Harry Hazelton, leaping to his feet. "At our house supper is on at six o'clock, and anyone who gets in late has to take what's left." "Are your folks so poor as that?" laughed Tom. "Hardly," returned Harry. "But both dad and mother are sticklers for everyone being in his seat on time." By this time five of the chums had started across the broad, sunny field toward the rather dusty road. "Coming, Dave?" Dick called, looking back. "Oh, yes," grunted Darrin. "But I hate to see all of you fellows running as though you didn't know whether you'd ever get another meal." "I wonder what is Dave's sudden grouch against the eats," Tom mused aloud. "I've seen him at a few meals, and he was always a clever performer." "P