Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Setback; Or, True Pluck Welcomes Defeat - Burt L. Standish - Страница 8

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The crisp air that blew across the famous Yale quadrangle was filled with flying snowballs. The freshmen, under the leadership of Dade Morgan, were battling with the sophomores, under the command of Jack Ready.

At one end of the quadrangle a snow-fort had been built. It was held by the freshmen, and the sophomores were allowed twenty minutes in which to take it.

The plan of the battle, of Merriwell’s devising, contemplated after that the rebuilding of the fort and a change of sides, permitting the sophomores to hold the fort and the freshmen to become the assaulting party.

Behind the snowy walls of the fort and out in the open where the sophomores were collected were great piles of snowballs, the artillery, grape-and-cannister of the contending forces. The snow was in the best of condition for the purpose, balling readily under pressure into light yet compact missiles.

Ready had directed his men to begin with a fierce “rifle-fire” of snowballs, and then charge the fort before the freshmen could recover from the hail of balls; and the sophomores were doing their best to follow his instructions.

Nothing was to be used, however, but snowballs and snow. Tackling with the hands, and all rough work, such as kicking or striking or the use of other than snow missiles, was strictly barred, and every offender was to be summarily ejected from the fight, with the loss of his services to his side.

Merriwell stood with his old friends Browning and Hodge at one side of the quadrangle, all interested spectators. Merriwell was the umpire to decide on fouls of all kinds, with the power of expulsion from the play of every offender.

The freshmen behind the walls met the rain of freshmen snowballs with a counter-fire that was as hot as they could make it.

“Better save our ammunition for closer quarters!” Starbright advised, venturing to speak to Morgan.

The interference stung Morgan to the quick.

“Who’s commander here?” he snarled.

“You are. I only make the suggestion.”

Morgan moved away, and, as if to show that he disliked the interference, he gave commands that caused the freshman fire to grow even hotter. Seeing that this was the order, and determined to be in the front rank, Starbright flew to the nearest opening, and, with an armful of snowballs, rained them on the sophomores.

He had scarcely done this when he felt a crushing blow on the back of the head which tumbled him half-senseless on his face. As he rose, staggering, and felt of his head, he found blood trickling down over his fingers.

The ball that had struck him had “exploded,” and, noticing it at his feet, he saw that in its center there had been a ragged rock.

The air was filled with flying snowballs. Nevertheless, feeling wofully faint and dizzy, he turned squarely round, cowering meanwhile behind the snow embankment, and looked over the freshmen.

“Morgan did that!” he thought. “I’d bet anything Morgan did that!”

Yet it seemed strange that a commander should want to knock out one of his own men.

Starbright picked up the rock and looked at it. Then he thrust it into his pocket and again felt of his cut and bleeding head.

“Hello!” said Dashleigh, seeing blood on Starbright’s fingers and the stain of it on the snow.

“Hit with this!” said Dick, producing the rock. “It came near laying me out.”

The big fellow was reeling sick, but he tried to conceal it. And as there was no possibility of telling who threw the stone, he gathered himself together, tied up his head with his handkerchief, and again went into the fight.

Dade was now in front of him, at the head of his men, though a short time before, as Starbright knew, he had been in the rear.

As Dick straightened up and reentered the fight he saw a ball strike Morgan in the back of the head, saw the ball split open, and, as it fell, saw a ragged stone drop out of it.

Dade went down on his face insensible.

Dick half-wheeled to ascertain from what point the treacherous missile came, but at that moment he collided with Dashleigh and fell.

“Pardon!” Dashleigh bellowed, racing to a point that he thought needed defense.

The fire of the attacking party was slacking, and Dick felt sure that an assault was to come.

Morgan lay insensible, and Dick saw a red stain on the snow.

“Was that an accident?” was his thought. “Were they both accidents? If so, some of our men aren’t fighting fair, but are putting stones in the snowballs.”

It was so comtemptible a trick that his blood boiled and he felt ashamed that such men could be among freshmen.

But there was no time for thought. There seemed to be no time for anything, for, under the lead of Ready, the sophomores were advancing to the charge.

Outside, the students and other spectators were wildly shouting and whooping. The rain of snowballs had been so thick that the fall of Starbright and Morgan had not been perceived even by the keen eyes of Frank Merriwell.

“Take care of him!” Starbright commanded, speaking to two of the freshmen.

These two were not in the fighting-line, but had been detailed, with two others, by Morgan to manufacture snow ammunition.

The freshmen had been weakened by Morgan’s fall, and now were wavering and undecided. But the instant that Starbright sprang into position at their head and began to utter sharp, quick commands, they recognized his natural leadership and gave him instant obedience.

“Hold them back!” Starbright roared.

Fierce as the fight had been, the ammunition was not all exhausted; and the two men left for this purpose began to heap a great mound of balls at the feet of the fighters.

“Charge ’em!” came in the shrill voice of Jack Ready; and, with their arms filled with snow, the sophomores came on in a mighty, sweeping rush.

“Now, give it to ’em!” Starbright roared back.

Ready, in the lead, was right against the walls, with a dozen of his men at his heels.

“Snow! snow!” Starbright bellowed.

It was a signal agreed on, having been issued by Morgan before the beginning of the fight.

The snowballs in the hands of the freshmen were thrown; then great armfuls of snow were picked up and dashed into the faces and eyes of the advancing sophomores.

Ready mounted the wall and fell over on the inside. His men tried to emulate his example. Four of them came over with Ready, but the others were beaten back and almost smothered.

Then Ready and Starbright found themselves face to face. At it they went, each digging up snow by the armful and hurling it at the head and face of his opponent.

Ready fought blithely and chirpingly, pushing the snow out of his mouth and eyes. But a great armful fell on him out of the arms of the giant freshman, and Ready fell under it.

As if in a frenzy, Starbright danced about, heaping snow and still more snow on the prostrate freshman leader, until, from beneath his snowy covering, Ready was willing to confess his defeat.

“Let up!” he begged. “I’m not an Esquimaux! My maux is full now, clean down to my twinkling toes.”

The other sophomores had been overthrown, and the assault had failed.

The time was so nearly up that it was seen to be impossible for the sophomores to take the fort in the few minutes remaining. So there was a truce.

Two of Ready’s men had been hurt, and another of Starbright’s; but not by snowballs containing pieces of rock.

Morgan was so weak from the effect of the blow that it was seen he could not again assume the leadership of the freshmen.

Sitting on a heap of snow, white and weak, he looked up at Starbright, as the latter walked over to inquire about his injury.

“You did that, you sneak!” he hissed.

Starbright grew red.

“If so, who did that?”

Dick showed the wound in his own head.

“I was knocked down by a snowball just before you were, and my head was split open. I saw the ball strike you.”

“You were behind me, then?” said Morgan.

“Yes, and I saw the ball strike you, and saw that it held a stone. Here is the delightful piece of granite that struck me!”

Starbright produced it.

“Well, you know I didn’t throw that!”

“I thought you did, until I saw you get one of the same kind. Now I don’t know what to think!”

“Oh, I guess you threw it, all right!” Morgan grunted. “You were mad because I told you to mind your own business.”

Starbright walked away.

“I don’t know who did it,” he said to Merriwell, explaining the whole matter. “Dade thinks I threw the stone that struck him, but I wouldn’t be fool enough to bang up my own head in this way.”

“I’ll try to look into the thing,” was the promise. “Dade is too weak to go on with the play. It was a rascally piece of business, and I’m tempted to call off the battle because of it. The freshmen want you for captain during the continuance of the fight if it’s to go on. But you’re looking pretty weak.”

“Oh, I’m all right!” Dick earnestly asserted. “Give us another man in the place of Morgan, and we’ll take the fort from the sophomores, or know why!”