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Read Ebook: The High School Boys' Training Hike by Hancock H Irving Harrie Irving
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Ebook has 1787 lines and 49523 words, and 36 pages
"What is it?" asked Mr. Titmouse apprehensively.
"I forgot to look at the tires on the wheels," Prescott went on. "I want to make sure that they're sound, so that we fellows won't have to take the chance of paying a blacksmith to make new ones before we've been out a week."
The tires were in excellent condition, so the little man had no objection whatever to showing them.
"Good, so far," nodded Prescott. "Now, next, I'd enjoy looking at the axles and the hub-nuts."
"You're not the lad who is going to allow himself to be cheated," laughed Mr. Titmouse admiringly. "The hubs and axles are all right, so I've no objection to showing them to you."
"I'm satisfied with the wagon," Dick declared, a few minutes later. "Now, Mr. Titmouse, I'll pay you the six dollars if you'll make out a satisfactory receipt for the money."
"Come into the office and tell me what you want me to say in the receipt," urged Newbegin Titmouse, leading the way across the stable into a little room in the furthermost corner.
The receipt was soon made out, the money paid and the receipt in Dick's pocket.
"I'll either come for the wagon myself, or send one of the other fellows," Dick promised. "If I send for it I'll also send a written order."
"I hope you boys will have a pleasant time this summer," chirped Mr. Titmouse, who, though he had been badly out-generaled in the trade, had at least the satisfaction of knowing that there was some money in his pocket that had come to him by sheer good luck.
"We're going to try to have the finest good time that a crowd of fellows ever had," Dick replied, after nodding his thanks. "I've missed that car, and shall have quite a little wait."
"Perhaps you'd like to sit under a tree and eat a few apples," suggested Mr. Titmouse.
Dick was about to accept the invitation with thanks when Mr. Titmouse added:
"I've a lot of fine summer apples I gathered yesterday. I'll let you have three for five cents."
This attempt at petty trade, almost in the guise of hospitality, struck Dick as being so utterly funny that he could not help laughing outright.
"Thank you, Mr. Titmouse," he replied. "I don't believe I'll eat any apples just now."
"I might make it four for a nickel," coaxed the little man, "if you agree not to pick out the largest apples."
"Thank you, but I don't believe I'll eat any apples at all just now," Dick managed to reply, then made his escape in time to avoid laughing in Mr. Titmouse's face.
Once out on the street, and knowing that he had some twenty minutes to wait for the next car, Dick strolled slowly along.
"I didn't know that boy," muttered Newbegin Titmouse, looking after Prescott with a half admiring gaze, "and I didn't size him up right. He offered me ten dollars, and then got the wagon for six. Whew! I don't believe I ever before got off so badly as that in a trade. But I really did spend five-fifty in advertising the wagon in the Tottenville and Gridley papers this summer, so I'm fifty cents ahead, anyway, and a fifty-cent piece is always equivalent to half a dollar!"
With which sage reflection Mr. Newbegin Titmouse went out into his small orchard to see whether he had overlooked any summer apples that were worth two dollars a barrel.
Dick sauntered down the street for a few blocks ere he heard the whirr of a Gridley-bound trolley car behind him. He quickened his pace until he reached the next corner. There he signaled to the motorman.
As the car slowed down Dick swung himself on nimbly, remarking to the conductor:
"Don't make a real stop for me. Drive on!"
As Prescott passed inside the car he was greeted by a pleasant-faced, well-dressed young man. It was Mr. Luce, one of the sub-masters of Gridley High School. Dick dropped into a seat beside him.
"Been tramping a bit, Prescott?" inquired the sub-master.
"No, sir; I've been over here on a little matter of business, but I expect to start, in a day or two, on a few weeks of tramping."
Thereupon young Prescott fell to describing the trip that he, Dave Darrin, Greg Holmes, Dan Dalzell, Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton had mapped out for themselves.
"Just for pleasure?" asked Mr. Luce.
"No, sir; for training. We all hope to make the football team this fall. We're all of us in pretty good shape, too, I think, sir; but we're going out on this training hike to see if we can't work ourselves down as hard as nails."
"I'd like to go with you," nodded the sub-master.
"Can't you do it, sir?" asked Dick eagerly, for Mr. Luce was a favorite with all the boys.
"Unfortunately, I can't," replied the submaster. "I'm expected at home. My mother and sister claim me for this month. But I wish I could go, just the same."
"You would be most welcome I assure you, sir," replied Dick warmly.
"Thank you, Prescott," returned Mr. Luce with a smile. "I appreciate your invitation and regret that I cannot accept it."
The conversation again turned to the subject of the coming football season, and an animated discussion ensued, as Sub-master Luce was an enthusiastic advocate of football.
Suddenly, Dick, glancing ahead out of the window, turned pale. Without a word of explanation he sprang from his seat and made a bound for the nearer car door, the rear one.
"Everyone off! Stop the car! Hustle!" shouted the high school boy. "Mr. Luce! Come on. Quick!"
John Luce, though he had no inkling of what had caused the excitement, sprang after Dick.
Dick, however, had not waited to see if the sub-master had followed him. His horror-filled eyes, as he ran, were turned straight ahead.
It needed but a few steps to carry him across the road. He bounded into a field where a loaded hay wagon stood near an apple tree.
The horses had been led away to be fed. Seated on the top of the hay were a boy of barely six and a girl not more than four years old. They were awaiting the return of the farmer.
Down below a six-year-old boy, barefooted and brown as a gipsy, had appeared on the scene during the farmer's absence.
"For fun" this youngster had been lighting match after match, making believe to set the hay afire. As he held the matches as close to the dried hay as he dared, this urchin on the ground called to the two babies above that he would "burn 'em up."
Not all of this did Dick Prescott know, but his glance through the car window had shown him the boy on the ground just as that tiny fellow had lighted another match, shouting tantalizingly to the two children on top of the load of hay.
Just as he called up to them the mischievous youngster tripped slightly. Throwing out his right hand to save himself the boy accidentally touched the bottom of the load at one side with the lighted match.
At this fateful instant it was out of the question to think of putting out the flame that leaped from wisp to wisp of the dried grass.
"Jump!" shouted the young match-burner, but the children above did not hear, or else did not realize their plight.
"Fire! Fire!" screamed the little incendiary, as he ran panic-stricken toward the farm house.
And now Dick was racing as he had never done before, even over the football gridiron. On his speed depended the lives of the two children.
THE DEED OF A HERO
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