Читать книгу Tom Fairfield's Schooldays: or, The Chums of Elmwood Hall - Chapman Allen - Страница 3

“Talk about lazy fellows!” murmured Tom, as he bent to his oars, “that Dent Wilcox certainly is the limit. He’s too lazy to row, so he borrows my motorboat. Then he’s too lazy to learn how to crank the engine, and too lazy to turn the flywheel over hard enough. It’s a wonder he ever got started, and when he does get going he doesn’t take enough pains to look out where he’s steering. If he wrecks my boat I’ll make him pay for her.”

Tom cast a glance over his shoulder toward his craft, and the sight of the boat nearer the rocks made him row faster than ever.

“Why don’t you try to steer, or crank her?” he yelled to Dent.

“What’s the use?” asked the lazy lad indifferently.

“Use? Lots of use? Do you want to go on the rocks?”

“No, not exactly,” spoke Dent, and his voice was quicker than his usual slow tones, as he saw his danger. “But you’ll be here in a minute, and you can run things.”

“Yes, that’s just like you,” retorted Tom. “You want someone else to do the work, while you sit around. But I’ll make you row back, and pull the boat too, if I can’t get her going.”

“Oh, Tom, I never could pull this boat back.”

“You’ll have to,” declared our hero grimly, “that is if the engine won’t run. Stand by now, to catch my painter.”

Dent stood up in the stern of the drifting motorboat, and prepared to catch the line Tom was about to throw to him. Tom was near enough to his motorcraft now so that the headway and the current of the river would carry him to her.

“I hope I can get that engine going,” he remarked to himself, as he saw how dangerously near he was to the rocks.

“Catch!” he cried to Dent, throwing the end of his line aboard, and Dent, forgetting his usual lazy habits, made a quick grab for the painter. He reached it, took a turn around a cleat, and in another moment Tom was aboard.

“Pull my rowboat closer up,” he ordered Dent. “I’m going to have a try at the motor, and if she doesn’t go, we’ll have to row out of danger.”

He gave a quick look at the engine, and then cried:

“Well, you’re a dandy!”

“What’s the matter?”

“You didn’t have the gasolene turned on.”

“I did so. Else how could I have run out from the dock?”

“With what was in the carbureter, of course. But when that was used up, you didn’t get any more from the tank. You’re a peach to run a motorboat! Don’t you ever take mine out again!”

“I won’t,” murmured Dent, thoroughly ashamed of himself.

With a quick motion Tom turned on the gasolene, saw that the switches were connected, and, with a turn of the flywheel, he had the motor chugging away a second later.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, as he sprang to the steering wheel.

“Glad I don’t have to pull in,” said Dent, thinking of the work he had escaped.

“Well, it was a narrow squeak,” said Tom, as he steered out of the way of the rocks, and then sent his boat around in a graceful curve.

“How’d you come to take my boat?” asked our hero, when he had a chance to collect his thoughts.

“Oh, I just strolled down to the dock, and saw it there. I heard you were out of town – taking the Elmwood Hall examination – and I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“I did take the exams., and I passed,” spoke Tom, his pride in this rather making him forgive Dent now. “I’ll soon be going there to school, and I’ll have swell times. I came down to tell Dick and Will that I just got word that I’m to enter the Freshman class, when I saw you had my boat. You want to be more careful after this.”

“I will,” promised the lazy lad, as he settled himself comfortably on the cushioned seats, and watched Tom steer. The latter, after running ashore, and tying up his rowboat, started for the fishing hole, intending to look for his chums.

“Can’t I come along?” asked Dent, who had not offered to get out, nor help Tom tie his boat. “Take me along,” he pleaded. “If you go to school I won’t get any more rides.”

“Well, you have got nerve!” laughed Tom, and yet he felt so elated at the prospect before him that he did not seriously protest. “First you take my boat without permission, then you nearly wreck her, and next you want to have an additional ride. You have your nerve with you, all right.”

“Might as well,” spoke Dent, lazily, as he lolled back on the cushions. “If you don’t ask for things in this world you won’t get much.”

“I guess that’s right,” agreed Tom. “You’ve got more sense than I gave you credit for. But crank that motor now. Let’s see if you can get it going. You’ll have to work your passage, if you come with me on this voyage.”

Dent turned the flywheel over, and after a few attempts he did succeed in getting the engine to go. Then Tom steered down to the fishing hole. Dick and Will saw him coming, and called and waved their welcome.

“Any luck?” asked Tom, as he ran his boat close to shore.

“Pretty fair. Did you hear from Elmwood?” asked Dick.

“Yes, just got word, and I passed. I’ll soon be a Freshman. I wish you fellows were coming along. Come on, get in, and I’ll tell you all about it. You’ve got fish enough.”

His chums were glad enough to ride back, and soon, with their fish, they were in the motorboat. While Tom was showing them his letter from the school, Dent managed, by a great effort, to steer properly.

“How soon are you going there?” asked Will.

“In about a week. I hope I make some friends there. I’m going to look up that Senior, Bennington. He told me to.”

Talking with his chums of the prospects before him, Tom was soon at his dock again, and this time he locked his boat fast so that Dent could not take it without permission.

“I’m going to let you two fellows run it while I’m at Elmwood,” he said to Dick and Will, much to their delight.

The days that followed were busy ones. Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield had much to do, and as for Tom, he had, or imagined he had, so much to take with him, that he thought he would need three trunks at least. But his mother sorted out his clothes, and reduced the number of his other possessions, so that one trunk and a valise sufficed.

In the meanwhile arrangements were made for Tom’s father and mother to sail for Australia. Their railroad tickets had been bought, and passage engaged on the steamer Elberon, which was to sail from San Francisco.

“I’m giving you enough money to last you for the term, Tom, I think,” said his father. “I want you to have everything you need, but don’t be wasteful. I will also leave a further sum in the bank here to your credit, and you will have a check book. But I want you to give me an account of your expenditures.”

Tom promised, and felt rather proud to have a bank account, as well as go to a preparatory boarding school. His chums in Briartown envied him more than ever.

At last the day for Tom to start came. His parents were to leave two days later, closing up their house for the fall, for it was early in September.

Good-byes were said, Tom’s chums came in numbers to see him off, and with rather a tearful farewell of his father and mother our hero started for school, or rather, college, since Elmwood ranked with upper institutions of learning in conferring degrees.

“Be sure and write,” begged Tom’s mother.

“I will,” he said. “And you write, too.”

“Of course,” his mother assured him.

The train pulled in, Tom got aboard, and at last he felt that he was really off. He waved his last good-byes, and could not help feeling a little lonesome even though so many pleasures lay before him.

As he took his seat, while his chums cheered and shouted “Rah, Rah, Elmwood!” after him, Tom was aware that a lad across the aisle was regarding him curiously.

This lad was of athletic build. He had red hair, and a pleasant, smiling face.

“Are you going to Elmwood Hall?” he asked Tom.

“Yes,” was the answer. “Do you go there?” and then Tom saw that he need not have asked, since he saw the pin of the college on the other’s coat.

“I do, Burke’s my name – Reddy Burke they all call me. I’m beginning my third year there. Come over and sit with me, and we’ll have a talk. Elmwood boys ought to be friendly.”