Читать книгу Dick Merriwell's Trap: or, The Chap Who Bungled - Standish Burt L. - Страница 2

The sweat-stained, bruised, battered, triumphant Fardale lads peeled off their football armor in the dressing-room beneath the stand. Earl Gardner was there, barely able to walk, but supremely happy. Dick was happy, too. Scudder, partly recovered from a collapse, was shaking hands with everybody.

“It was a shame!” said Ted Smart in fun. “I hated to see us do it! They were so sure of the game that it seemed like robbery to take it.”

“By Jim! I’ll be sore to-morrer!” piped Obediah Tubbs. “Never got no sech drubbin’ before sence dad used to lay me over his knee an’ swat me with the razor-strop.”

“But you put Glennon on Queer Street,” smiled Dick. “And that was the finest thing I ever saw happen to a bruiser like him.”

“He! he! he!” came from the fat boy. “I kinder thought I might git called down fer some of that business, but the empire didn’t dast say a word.”

“I should opine not,” put in Brad Buckhart, the Texan. “He permitted Glennon to start the slugging-match, and he couldn’t say anything when it became too hot for the big tough.”

“Both umpire and referee were against us,” grunted Bob Singleton.

“But we won out against all odds, fellows,” said Dick cheerily. “And I am proud of you!”

“It’s us that sus-sus-sus-should be pup-pup-pup-proud of you!” chattered Chip Jolliby, his protruding Adam’s apple bobbing as it always did when he was excited and tried to talk fast.

“That’s right! that’s right!” cried the boys. “Captain Dick was the one who turned the trick and won the game!”

“No, fellows,” said Dick earnestly. “I did what I could, but to no one individual belongs the glory of this game. It was a victory won by the splendid courage and staying qualities of the whole team. It was the kind of courage that wins great battles. It showed that this team is made up of the right kind of stuff. We were stronger at the finish than at the start, while they were weaker. It’s staying power that counts.”

Dick was right. And it is “staying power” that counts in the great game of life, just the same as in football. A fellow may have ability and be brilliant in his accomplishments, but if he has not “staying power” he will be beaten out every time by the tireless, persistent, dogged plodder.

The boys were not able to bathe and be rubbed down there, so they hustled on their clothes and prepared to make for the hotel, where they might cleanse and refresh themselves after their successful struggle.

“Thunder!” moaned Tubbs. “How hungry I be! Don’t think I ever was so hungry before in all my life.”

Then it was that some of the faithful appeared with pies of various sorts, procured at a bakery in town, and delivered them to the fat boy, who was so fond of pies that he ate all he could even while in training, the one who presented them making a humorous speech.

When the boys piled into the big carryall that was to take them to the hotel Obediah had his lap full of pies. Holding one in each hand, he proceeded to devour them, a supremely happy look on his full-moon face. Along the route he was observed with amusement, and he laughed and waved his pies at those who laughed at him.

It seemed that almost half a hundred small boys were waiting for the Fardale team to appear, and they ran after the carryall, cheering and calling to one another.

“Well, we seem to have won favor with the kids, anyhow,” said Dick.

When the hotel was reached the boys leaped out and hurried in.

Dick was ascending the steps when a carriage bearing Chester Arlington and his sister drew up. Chester was talking to June in a manner that showed his temper. When he saw Dick, he ordered the driver to drive on, but June said:

“You will stop here. I am going to get out here.”

“Not if I know it!” grated her brother, his face pale with anger. “You’ll never speak to that fellow again if I can prevent it!”

“Get down, driver,” said June firmly, “and assist me to alight, if my brother is not gentleman enough to do so.”

The driver sprang down at once, but Arlington grasped his sister’s arm to restrain her.

At this moment a big dog pounced upon another in front of the building, and the fighting, snarling animal was under the feet of the horse in a twinkling. With a snort, the animal sprang away, the reins being jerked from the hands of the driver.

Arlington had partly risen to his feet, and the sudden leap of the horse flung him backward over the seat to the ground.

June Arlington was the only occupant of the carriage as the runaway dashed wildly down the main street of the town.

Dick had witnessed this occurrence. He made a leap down the steps, but was too late to reach the horse.

Chester Arlington sat up, looking dazed and frightened.

“Stop that horse!” he cried, in genuine alarm. “A hundred dollars to the man who stops that horse!”

Even as he uttered the words, Dick Merriwell caught a bicycle from the hands of a boy who had ridden up and was standing beside his machine. On to the bicycle leaped the captain of the eleven, alighting in the saddle and catching the pedals instantly with his feet. Away he went after the runaway, somewhat slowly at first, but with swiftly increasing speed.

“Hi! hi! Runaway! Runaway!”

“Look out for that horse!”

“The girl will be hurt!”

“She may be killed!”

“Look at the fellow on the bike!”

“He can’t catch the horse!”

“Couldn’t stop him if he did!”

The crowd rushed away after the runaway, shouting loudly. Others ran out from offices and stores. In a twinkling the whole street was swarming with excited persons.

Dick bent over the handlebars and pedaled with all the strength and skill he could command. He felt that it was to be a race for life, and he set his teeth, his heart filled with the win-or-die determination that had made him remarkable on the gridiron.

A farmer turning in from another street barely reined his horse aside in time to avoid a collision. He caught a glimpse of the pale face of the girl in the carriage.

A man ran out and waved his arms at the horse, but he jumped aside when the animal came straight on without swerving.

Another dog darted after the runaway, barking furiously and adding to its terror and speed.

June turned and looked back. She saw the bicyclist coming after her, and she was not so frightened that she failed to recognize Dick Merriwell.

The dog that had barked at the horse got in Dick’s road and barely sprang aside in time. Had the wheel struck the animal Dick’s pursuit might have ended there in a twinkling.

It was astonishing how fast young Merriwell flew over the ground. He strained every nerve. Dick soon saw he was gaining. Fortunately the street was long and straight, and the runaway kept a fairly straight course. The reins were on the ground, and it seemed that the girl could do nothing to help herself. Once she partly rose, as if to spring from the carriage.

“Don’t do it!” cried Dick. “Hold on! I’ll save you!”

Did she hear him? Whether she did or not, she sank back on the seat and looked round again.

The lad on the bicycle was nearer – he was gaining. It happened that Dick had seized a racing-wheel that was geared very high. Fortunately the road was level and fairly good for his purpose.

Out of Hudsonville tore the runaway, but Dick was close to the carriage when the horse reached the outskirts of the town. He was confident then that he would soon overtake the horse. But could he stop the animal then?

Watching for the opportunity, Dick pushed the wheel along by the side of the carriage. Not a word did he speak to the girl, and she made no appeal to him.

Strange as it may seem, all the fear had departed from June, and she was watching Dick’s efforts with curiosity and confidence. Here was a fellow to be admired. She asked herself how he would stop the horse, but she believed that somehow he would succeed.

Past the carriage Dick forged. The wheel whirled beneath him. On the hard road the hoofs of the horse beat a tattoo. The wind was whistling in the lad’s ears, but he heard it not. Cold and keen, it cut his face, but he minded it not.

Nearer, nearer, nearer. Now he was at the fore quarters of the horse, and he gathered himself for a last burst of speed, fearing the creature might see him and sheer suddenly to one side. In a sudden fine spurt he was at the head of the horse. Then his hands left the handlebars. In a twinkling he had the horse by the bit with one hand, while the fingers of the other fastened on the animal’s nostrils, closing them instantly.

The bicycle went down, and the wheels of the carriage crashed over it, but Dick had swung free, and he clung like grim death to the horse.

June Arlington watched that struggle, her heart swelling at the heroism and nerve of the boy who had ridden thus to her rescue. To her it was a grand struggle, and her faith in her savior never faltered for a second.

The horse tried to fling up his head, but the weight of the boy held it down. It seemed that his feet might strike the lad and cause him to relinquish his hold. In that case, Dick would fall beneath the iron hoofs, to be maimed or killed.

But the horse could not breathe, his nostrils being closed, and this soon caused it to show signs of weakness. Its speed decreased, and Dick, clinging there desperately, felt that the battle would be won if he could hold out a little longer.

Could he? He had made up his mind that he would – that nothing on earth should prevent it. When Dick set his mind on anything like that he always won, and this case was no exception. Little by little the horse faltered. And then, with surprising suddenness, it gave out entirely and stopped.

Dick did not relinquish his hold at once. He held on, talking to the animal and trying to allay its fears. In this he succeeded wonderfully, until he soon was confident enough to let up and permit the animal to breathe.

When the creature was fully quieted and under control, young Merriwell turned to the girl in the carriage. He was hatless, flushed, triumphant, handsome.

“You are quite safe, Miss Arlington,” he said.

“Thanks to you,” she answered, in a voice that did not tremble. “But I knew you would do it!”

Dick picked up the reins from the ground when he had succeeded in quieting the horse, and climbed into the carriage.

Two men driving out of town in pursuit of the runaway met Dick Merriwell, with June Arlington at his side, serenely driving back into town.

“By thunder!” said one of the men wonderingly. “This beats the world! He’s stopped the horse and is driving the critter back as cool as you please.”

“Who is he?” asked the other man.

“Dick Merriwell, brother of Frank Merriwell, the great Yale athlete, who used to go to school at Fardale.”

“Well, he’s a good one.”

“A good one! He’s a rip-snorter! Not many boys of his years could ’a’ done that job!”

Dick spoke to them pleasantly.

“We were after the runaway,” said one of the men; “but I rather think you don’t need none of our help.”

“Thank you, no,” said Dick. “But you might drive on a short distance and pick up that bicycle. I think it is pretty badly smashed. If you’ll bring it back to the hotel I’ll be much obliged.”

“We’ll do it,” said both men.

“Good boy! Well done!” was shouted at him from all sides as he drove along the main street toward the hotel.

When he reached the hotel he found a crowd gathered there. Chester Arlington, pale as a ghost and covered with dirt, was sitting on the steps.

The Fardale crowd was on hand to cheer Dick, but he called on them to be quiet.

“This horse is nervous enough now,” he said. “Do you want to start him off again?”

“He’d be all right with you behind him,” declared Joe Savage.

“That’s Dick Merriwell!” piped a small boy, bursting with enthusiastic admiration. “Ain’t he jest a peacherino!”

“Boy, it’s marvelous!” declared a man. “You deserve great credit. It may be that you saved this girl’s life! She shouldn’t forget that.”

“I won’t!” murmured June, loud enough for Dick to hear.

The driver took the horse by the head.

“I’ll hold him,” he said, “while you get out. I don’t know how I can thank you for keeping him from smashing the carriage and injuring himself.”

“Where is my bicycle?” asked the boy from whose hands Dick had snatched the wheel.

“Here it comes,” Dick answered, noting that the two men in the team were approaching, with the ruined bicycle held before them. “But I’m afraid you’ll never ride it again.”

“Well, that’s pretty tough on me,” said the boy, sadly, yet plainly trying to keep from showing his grief. “I won that for a prize in a race at the county fair this fall. But I ain’t going to fuss over it as long as you stopped the horse and kept her from being hurt.”

“Perhaps you’ll get another one, all right,” said Dick. “I think you will, even if I have to pay for it.”

“You won’t have to do that,” declared the man who had been among the first to express his admiration over Dick’s feat. “The girl’s brother said he’d give a hundred dollars to the one who stopped the horse. That ought to buy another wheel.”

“But I didn’t mean that I’d give it to him!” said Chester Arlington weakly.

“What?” roared the man. “What’s the difference who stopped the horse? I heard you telling since the runaway started that you are the son of D. Roscoe Arlington, the great railroad man. If that’s so your father can buy a whole bicycle-factory without going broke. You’d better keep your word.”

“You mind your business!” jerked out Chester, trying to rise from the steps to meet June, who had been assisted to the ground by Dick. “It was on his account that – ”

Then Chester’s knees buckled beneath him, and he dropped in a limp heap at the foot of the steps. With a cry, June bent over him.

“He’s hurt!” she exclaimed, in great agitation. “Chester! Chester! Speak to me, brother!”

But Chester Arlington lay white and still on the ground.

“I think he has fainted, Miss Arlington,” said Dick. “Don’t be alarmed. He may not be seriously hurt at all. The fright over your danger may have brought this on. Come, fellows, let’s carry him into the hotel.”

Brad Buckhart drew back.

“Well, I don’t care about dirtying my hands on the coyote,” he muttered.

There were others, however, who were ready enough to assist Dick, and Chester was borne into the hotel, where he was attended by one of the village doctors who had joined the crowd. In a few moments he recovered.

The doctor was unable to tell just how much Chester was hurt, and he was taken to a room for further examination and treatment. June kept close to him, betraying the greatest anxiety on his account.

Chester’s back was injured, and he did not seem to have strength enough in his legs to walk. However, as he lay on the bed, he gave his sister a reproachful look, saying:

“See what you have brought me to, June! It was all on account of your obstinacy, and – ”

“Oh, hush, Chester!” she said gently. “I am very sorry anything happened to you.”

“And you came near being killed, too. If you had – ”

“Don’t talk that way! I am all right, thanks to Mr. Merriwell.”

He started as if he had been stabbed with a keen point, his face showing pain and anger.

“That fellow! that fellow!” he panted. “That he should be the one to stop the horse! Oh, I’d given anything rather than had him save you!”

“I presume you would have preferred to see me thrown out and injured or killed!” she exclaimed.

“No,” he huskily said, “no, June! Oh, you don’t know how I felt when I realized what had happened and that you might be hurt! I tried to get up and run after the horse, but I didn’t have the strength. June, you know I – I wouldn’t have harm come to you for anything. You know it! But to have him save you!”

There was no doubting Chester Arlington’s affection for his sister; but his hatred for Dick Merriwell was equally intense.

“My dear brother!” she murmured, gently touching his hair. “Don’t be silly! Don’t worry any more. It’s all right.”

“No, no; all wrong!” he groaned.