The Putnam Hall Rivals

Arthur M. Winfield

The Putnam Hall Rivals / or, Fun and Sport Afloat and Ashore

INTRODUCTION

My Dear Boys:

This tale of “The Putnam Hall Rivals” is a companion story to “The Putnam Hall Cadets” brought out about a year ago. It relates the further adventures of Jack Ruddy, Pepper Ditmore, and their chums, at and near Putnam Hall, an ideal boarding school for boys, located upon a beautiful lake in the upper portion of the State of New York. As at all boarding academies there are many keen rivalries, – in the classrooms, at the gymnasium, on the athletic field, and also on the lake. The majority of the boys are upright and open-hearted, but among the cadets there are to be found a few who are mean and even base, and these do a number of things which cause our heroes not a little trouble.

The “Putnam Hall Series” was started at the earnest solicitation of a number of my young friends who had read my “Rover Boys Series” and wanted to know more about what had happened at Putnam Hall previous to the coming of the three Rover brothers on the scene. When the Rovers arrived they found at the academy a set of wide-awake lads, full of fun and “go,” and it is about these that the present tale concerns itself.

Once again I thank the thousands of boys, and girls too, who have shown their appreciation of my efforts to amuse and instruct them. May you enjoy this volume from the first page to the last, is the earnest wish of the author.

Affectionately and sincerely yours,Arthur M. Winfield.

June 5, 1906.

CHAPTER I

OUT ON THE ICE

“Line up, fellows, line up!”

“Wait a minute, Jack, my skate strap is loose.”

“Well, don’t take all the afternoon to fix it, Pep. Remember, we have only three-quarters of an hour off to-day.”

“Oh, I’ll remember it right enough,” grumbled Pepper Ditmore, as he fixed the skate strap. “And such good skating, too! Isn’t it a shame! I wish we had a whole holiday to-morrow.”

“Make it a week,” put in a cadet named Dale Blackmore. “I declare, I almost love skating as well as I do baseball and football.”

“Are you all ready?” came from Jack Ruddy, a moment later. “I am not going to wait any longer.”

“All ready!” was the answering cry, and six boys lined up on the smooth ice of the lake.

“Then go!” shouted Jack, and away went the half-dozen, with Jack at their side, down the lake, which the keen wind of the day before had swept almost entirely clear of snow.

They were a merry, light-hearted set of boys, all bent upon having the best possible time on the present occasion. Coming out on the ice but a few minutes before, a race had been quickly arranged, the winner to be treated to some pie whenever the others should visit the town and be able to get it for him.

Of the seven boys making such rapid progress over the frozen surface of the lake, Jack Ruddy was the leader in more ways than one. He was a well-built fellow, with bright, earnest eyes, and only a few months before had been chosen major of the school battalion.

In another volume of this “Putnam Hall Series,” entitled “The Putnam Hall Cadets,” I related the particulars of how the military academy was organized by Captain Victor Putnam, who had received his own military training at West Point, that grand government institution of ours, and who had also seen strenuous service under Uncle Sam in the far west. A fall from a horse had put him in a sick bed, and after his recovery he had decided to retire from the army and go to teaching.

The captain had had considerable money left to him, and with this he purchased a beautiful plot of ground on Cayuga Lake, in New York State, and there he built Putnam Hall, a handsome structure of brick and stone, shaped like the letter E, and containing many fine classrooms, dormitories, a library, messroom, office, and numerous other apartments.

The academy stood in the middle of a ten-acre plot. In front was a smooth, grassy parade ground and also a well-kept wagon road, running off in the direction of Cedarville, the nearest village on the lake. To the rear of the school the grounds ran down to the lake, and here were the barns and a storehouse on one side, and a gymnasium on the other, backed up by thick woods, and on the lake shore a boathouse and a line of bathing-houses.

The school was organized upon military lines, and each cadet was attired in military uniform and was given instruction in military matters daily. The regular studies were similar to those at any first-class preparatory school. Captain Putnam was at the head of the school, and his first assistant was Josiah Crabtree, and his second assistant George Strong. The majority of the boys liked the captain and George Strong very much, but Crabtree was a sour and morose individual they all but despised, even though they had to admit that he was well educated and could teach when he set his mind to it.

Jack Ruddy and Pepper Ditmore were chums, hailing from the western part of New York State. Jack was a trifle older than Pepper, but both were of the same size. Jack was a whole-souled fellow and it was small wonder that, at the first election for officers, the cadets chose him as the major of the school battalion. Pepper was full of fun, and this had gained him the nickname of Imp. He was content to remain “a high private in the rear rank,” as he expressed it, but nobody loved him any the less on that account.

At the academy, Jack and Pepper had speedily become acquainted with a number who had since become their warm friends. There was Dale Blackmore, just introduced, who was a great football player, and also Henry Lee, who was captain of Company A, Bart Conners, who was captain of Company B, Paul Singleton, generally called Stuffer because of his fondness for eating, Andy Snow, an acrobatic youth who was the best gymnast at the Hall, Joseph Hogan, usually spoken of as Emerald on account of his Irish brogue, and a score of others whom we shall meet as our story progresses.

These were Jack and Pepper’s friends. The chums had also made some enemies, of whom the worst was Dan Baxter, the bully of the school. The bully at this time had two cronies almost as bad as himself named Gus Coulter and Nick Paxton, and also a toady, John Fenwick, called by all the students Mumps.

Rivalries had been keen almost from the start, and it had galled Dan Baxter exceedingly to see Jack made major of the battalion, he himself having plotted and schemed to obtain that honor, but without avail. From that hour on the bully did all he could to get Jack and his chum into trouble. This at last led to a fight between the bully and Jack, and the youthful major came out practically a victor, although the fight was broken off before it was finished. But Dan Baxter boasted that he would yet whip Jack and whip Pepper, too.

During the early part of the winter George Strong, the second assistant teacher, had mysteriously disappeared. Two strange men had been seen around the Hall several times by Jack and Pepper, and it was at last learned that the strange men had something to do with the disappearance of the assistant teacher. A hunt was instituted by Captain Putnam, in which he was joined by Jack, Pepper, Andy Snow, and Dale Blackmore. The missing instructor was found a prisoner in a cabin in the woods, his captors being the two mysterious men, who proved to be relatives of George Strong. They had lost their fortunes and this had turned their brain, so that they were not responsible for their doings. As soon as the teacher was rescued, he sent the demented men to the west, a relative from that part of the country coming on to take them away.

George Strong had been very grateful to the boys for what they had done for him, and he did what he could to help them along in their studies. The insane relatives had imagined that the teacher had hidden away a fortune belonging to the family. The teacher told the boys that it was true that, during the Revolutionary War, his ancestors had buried a pot of gold, to keep it out of the hands of the British.

“But it was not worth anything like a million, as my unfortunate relatives believed,” had been George Strong’s statement to Jack and Pepper. “At the most it would be worth eight or ten thousand dollars.”

“That’s a tidy sum,” Jack had answered.

“You are right.”

“I’d like to pick up eight or ten thousand dollars,” Pepper had put in. “Mr. Strong, have you any idea where this fortune you speak of is located?”

“A very faint idea.”

“If you’ll tell us, – and the place is close by, – we might look for it for you.”

“A letter was left by my great-grandfather in which the pot of gold was mentioned as resting at the foot of the tree with the stone in its roots, twenty paces north of the old well. I have never been able to locate either the well or the tree.”

“But was it around here?” Jack had questioned with interest.

“Somewhere in this vicinity, for the farm belonging to my great-grandfather was located not many miles from here.”

“I thought the Indians were here at that time.”

“So they were, but my great-grandfather had some Indian blood in his veins and was a frontiersman, and the red men did not molest him very much.”

“Haven’t you ever hunted for the pot of gold?”

“A great many times – years ago. But I at last gave it up as useless. More than likely the old well mentioned has fallen in and the tree rotted away, so the landmarks are all gone and nothing is left by which to locate the treasure.”

And there the talk had come to an end, but the boys had not forgotten about the pot of gold.

CHAPTER II

A GAME OF SNAP-THE-WHIP

The race was on in earnest and the skates flashed brightly in the rays of the declining sun.

Pepper was in advance. Dale was slowly but surely crawling up to him.

“Go it, Imp! go it!” shrieked Jack, when he saw that he could not win.

Pepper did “go it,” and despite Dale’s effort to get ahead kept to the front. In the meantime Andy Snow also kept coming up, until he and Dale were tied for second place.

“Whoop, Pepper has won!” cried Stuffer Singleton, who was bringing up the rear. “Where are you, Andy?”

“Here I am!” answered the acrobatic pupil, and just then struck a crack in the ice, went down, and turned a handspring, coming to his feet again like a flash.

“Would yez look at that now!” burst out Joseph Hogan, as he stopped racing to look at Andy. “Sure an’ it’s in a circus you ought to be,” he continued.

“Andy’s doing stunts!” cried Jack.

“Say, Stuffer, why didn’t you try to win?” asked Andy, as he circled up to the stout youth. “Did you eat too much for dinner?”

“Eat too much!” snorted Stuffer. “With old Crabtree watching me? Not much! When I asked for more meat he wouldn’t let me have it. And I think I got the smallest dish of dessert, too!” grumbled the youth who was fond of good living.

“Pepper, you are all right,” said Jack, slapping his chum on the back. “That was well won!”

“And do I get the pie?” asked Pepper, with a smile.

“Certainly you do!” came from several of the others, who all loved the Imp. “But you have got to wait till we go to Cedarville.”

“Sure, an’ if he’ll be satisfied wid wan piece he’ll not have to wait at all, at all!” came from Hogan, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Why, what have you got up your sleeve, Emerald?” asked Jack.

“’Tis not up me sleeve at all, but in me pocket,” answered the Irish lad, and hauled forth a piece of brown paper containing a small cut of mince pie.

“Hullo, where did you get that?” asked several of the others, in astonishment.

“Got it from the kitchen, when nobody was looking,” answered Hogan. “It was on the table – set out, I think, for Snuggers’ dinner. I didn’t want to see him after gittin’ indigestion, so I – well, I made an appropriation, as the politicians say.”

“Phew! I’ll wager poor Peleg was mad!” was Pepper’s comment. He referred to Peleg Snuggers, the general-utility man around Putnam Hall.

“So here you are, Imp,” went on Hogan, and held out the pie.

“That’s the reason you proposed pie as a prize, eh?” cried Dale. “Supposing you had won?”

“Sure, I should have eaten the piece myself,” answered Emerald.

“I’ll accept the pie on one condition,” came from Pepper. “That is that you all have a bite with me.”

“We will!” was the shout, and a minute later each lad present was chewing on his mouthful of the dainty.

After that, the boys skated around for a little while longer. There were others on the lake, but they, for the most part, kept by themselves.

“I see Dan Baxter is out, with a new pair of skates,” said Jack to Pepper, presently.

“Yes, and he has a new camera, too,” answered Pepper. “By the way, I’d like to have a camera myself. I think I’ll write home for one before long. It will be lots of sport to take some winter pictures.”

Jack and Pepper, with Andy, had skated a little to one side, and now the three moved along one of the shores, where grew some evergreens, now loaded down with snow. The sun was going down and it was growing dark.

“Hi, you!” came suddenly from one side of them. “What do you mean by spoiling my picture!”

All three of the boys looked around and saw that Dan Baxter had set up his tripod on the ice. On the tripod rested his camera, the lens pointed at the evergreens on the shore. The three boys had swept along between the camera and the object Baxter wished to photograph just as the picture was being taken.

“I didn’t know you were trying to get a picture, Dan,” said Jack.

“Didn’t know it?” roared the bully of Putnam Hall. “Are you blind?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what did you rush in between for, tell me that? I was trying to get a nice time picture, and you have spoilt the plate.”

“I am very sorry. Haven’t you got another plate?”

“Of course I have. Do you think I carry only one plate? But that’s no reason why you and Pep Ditmore and Andy Snow should act so clownish.”

“Thank you, Baxter, but I didn’t act clownish,” cried Pepper, circling up on his skates.

“I say you did.”

“We didn’t see the camera at all,” put in Andy Snow. “So please don’t get so hot about it.”

“Oh, I know you fellows!” stormed Dan Baxter, working himself up into a rage, as was often his habit. “You think you can ride over me. But you can’t do it.”

“If you are going to take a picture you had better do it,” said Jack, quietly. “It will be too dark in another ten minutes.”

“Oh, don’t give me any advice, Jack Ruddy. Just because you are the major this term you can’t boss me.”

“I am not trying to boss you, as you call it, Baxter. Come, why can’t you drop the past and be friends?”

“I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“We’d rather have you for enemies any time,” came from Gus Coulter, who had been helping his crony carry the photographing outfit.

“That’s the talk,” added Nick Paxton, who was likewise present. “We prefer to choose our own friends; eh, fellows?”

“And we don’t choose the Ruddy crowd,” said Coulter.

“Very well, have your own way,” answered Jack, coldly. “But it would be nicer the other way.”

“I wouldn’t trust you, Ruddy, or trust your friends either,” remarked Dan Baxter, bitterly. “You’d pretend to be friends and then get us into a hole the first chance you got. I know you!”

“You evidently judge us by yourself,” said Pepper, hotly. “We are not so mean.”

“Don’t waste any words on them,” said Andy. “Come on and let them take their pictures,” and he skated away, and Jack and Pepper followed.

“What a fellow Dan Baxter is!” sighed the youthful major of the cadets. “No matter how nice a fellow tries to be to him he seems to resent it.”

“It’s because he doesn’t want us for friends,” answered Pepper. “He prefers fellows like Coulter and Paxton, and that sneak, Mumps.”

Just then a merry crowd of skaters swept along, playing snap-the-whip. Our friends were invited to join in, and the sport soon became so uproarious that the bully and his associates were forgotten for the time being.

“Here is where I live!” ejaculated Pepper, as he skated along. “Come on, fellows, and snap for keeps this time.”

“Not too fast!” cried out Stuffer, who chanced to be on the end at the time. “I – I – can’t keep up, you – know!” And then down he went on the smooth ice and rolled over and over. Several other skaters went down likewise, and a general laugh arose. Then up the cadets leaped, to form a new “whip.”

“Only five minutes more!” said Dale, consulting a watch he carried. “We won’t dare to be late to-day.”

“Not much, with old Crabtree on guard,” answered Pepper. “If we are he’ll be certain to keep us in to-morrow for it.”

“How I wish I had him out here on the ice,” was Dale’s comment.

“Sure an’ we’d be after teachin’ him some foin points,” said Hogan. “We’d make him spread th’ eagle on his head, so we would!”

“Crabtree knows enough to keep off the ice,” said Jack. “Perhaps he can’t skate.”

“Mr. Strong is a beautiful skater,” said Pepper. “I saw him out day before yesterday. He cut some very fancy figures.”

“What a difference between those two men,” said Andy. “Just as much difference as between Baxter and – and Joe Nelson,” he added, naming a quiet and steady pupil, well liked by all of the cadets.

“Now, boys, for the last swing!” cried Jack. “Pepper, your turn on the end this time.”

“All right, but please don’t snap me into the middle of next week,” answered the fun-loving youth.

“We’ll snap you into the middle of next year!” cried Andy, gleefully. He wanted to square up with somebody for a tumble he had taken.

Away went the boys, in a long line, across the lake. All were shouting and cheering, the hills beyond the lake echoing with their glee. They did not attempt to make a sweep until all had gained good headway.

“Now then, all together!” came from Dale. “Let her go!”

“Whoop!” shrieked Andy. “Good-bye, Pepper!”

The long line began to sweep around. It was fairly close to the lake shore, at a spot where there was a point upon which grew a number of low bushes, all thickly covered with snow.

“Pepper is going into the snow this trip!” cried Dale, as the line broke, and Pepper was hurled forward, flat on the smooth ice. But he was mistaken. The boy turned over and over, and then disappeared around the point like a flash. The next instant there came a strange crash, an exclamation of alarm, and then a babel of voices raised in anger.

CHAPTER III

THE BULLY OF THE SCHOOL

“What in the world is up now?” ejaculated Jack, as he started to skate around the point.

“Pepper is in trouble, that’s sure,” answered Andy.

In a moment the boys who had been playing snap-the-whip saw what had happened. Around the point of land Dan Baxter had been trying to take a time picture of the snow-laden bushes and the rocks beyond – certainly an artistic bit of landscape. Pepper, sprawling on the ice, had hit the tripod and sent the camera crashing down and the bully of Putnam Hall with it.

“Look here!” spluttered Dan Baxter, as he got on his knees. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“I – er – I didn’t – er – see you!” gasped Pepper. The wind had been knocked completely out of him by the unexpected contact with camera, tripod, and owner.

“It’s false!” cried the bully. “You couldn’t help seeing me! It’s all a bluff!”

“You – er – you’re mistaken,” panted Pepper, and started to rise, when the bully caught him by the collar and pulled him flat again.

“Let go of me, Dan Baxter!”

“I’ll not! I am going to teach you a good lesson!”

“Hi! hi! What’s this?” exclaimed Jack, skating closer. “Let go of him, Baxter.”

“Why should I?”

“He isn’t to blame,” put in Andy.

“Sure, an’ that’s the truth av it,” broke in Emerald. “We all had a hand, so we did!”

“We were playing snap-the-whip,” explained Dale. “You must have seen us.”

“Thanks, but I don’t watch such childish games,” sneered the bully. “I was tending to my own business when he comes along, smashes the camera, and knocks me down. Do you think I am going to stand for that?”

“You can’t stand if you are knocked down,” said Andy, dryly.

“Humph! Don’t get funny, Snow! This is no laughing matter.”

“As the dentist said when he pulled the wrong tooth,” came softly from Dale.

“Is the camera really broken?” asked Jack.

“Yes, it is, and it cost my dad twenty-five dollars.”

“I can get one like it for twelve,” said Stuffer. “Same size and make.”

“Humph!”

“I don’t think it is broken,” said Jack, looking the box over.

“I heard something crack.”

“Maybe it was the glass plate. The lens and shutter are certainly O. K., and the box is tight too. One leg of the tripod is broken though.”

“Pepper Ditmore has got to pay for this,” came firmly from Dan Baxter.

“That’s right, don’t let him crawl out of it,” put in Gus Coulter.

“He’s too smart altogether,” added Nick Paxton.

“See here, Coulter, don’t you put in your oar,” cried Pepper. “If you do, I’ll give you what I gave you before.” And then Gus Coulter slunk back, for he had not forgotten the drubbing Pepper had administered but a few weeks previous.

“Are you going to pay for the damage done or not?” demanded Dan Baxter.

“I shall certainly pay,” said Pepper, promptly. “Let me have the camera and I’ll get it fixed. Or you can have it fixed and have the bill sent to me.”

“We’ll all pay the bill,” cried Jack. “I think I am as much to blame as Pep.”

“So am I,” added Andy, and many of the others who had been playing snap-the-whip said the same.

“I am not going to let you have my camera,” said Dan Baxter, sulkily. “I’ll get it mended as it should be.” He paused a moment. “But I ain’t going to let you knock me down for nothing.”

“As I explained, it was an accident, Dan.”

“Humph! You ought to be made to apologize,” growled the bully. He would have attacked Pepper, only he realized that the lad had too many friends around.

A war of words followed, lasting several minutes. Then of a sudden one of the boys let out a low whistle.

“Five minutes over time, fellows. We must get back to the Hall!”

“Five minutes late!” came the cry. “This won’t do at all! Come on and get back!”

And then the majority ran off, leaving Pepper and Jack with Dan Baxter and Gus Coulter.

“I’ve got to get back to the Hall, Baxter,” said Pepper. “But I’ll settle to-morrow.”

“Yes – for I’ll make you settle,” answered the bully, meaningly. “I’ve stood all I’m going to stand from you and your cronies.”

So speaking the bully picked up his camera and hurried away, followed by Gus Coulter with the case containing the plates.

“I am sorry this happened,” observed Jack, as he and Pepper ran for the mess-hall. “This will make Baxter more down on us than ever.”

“I couldn’t help it, Jack. I did what I could to steer clear of the bushes. I didn’t want to scratch my face, and I didn’t know he was back there out of sight.”

When Jack and Pepper reached the Hall they were met by Josiah Crabtree, who viewed them sternly.

“What is the meaning of this, Major Ruddy?” demanded the first assistant teacher. “You are setting a bad example for those under you.”

“We had a little trouble on the ice,” answered Jack. “Pepper fell down and knocked over Dan Baxter’s camera, and we had to straighten matters out.”

“Humph! See that you are not late again,” muttered the teacher, and passed on.

“Phew! we got off easily that time,” exclaimed Pepper, in a low tone. “He must have something else to attend to,” and in this surmise the youth was correct.

A drum was already rolling, and the boys were hurrying to the parade ground. Jack dashed in and got his sword, and Pepper got his gun, and both hurried to the parade ground.

“Battalion, attention!” commanded the youthful major, and soon the cadets were in line. Then came a short drill, followed by the order to march. The drums sounded out, the fifes struck up a lively air, and around the parade ground went the cadets, and at last marched into the mess-hall, where they all sat down to a plain but substantial supper.

During the meal Pepper and Jack saw Dan Baxter scowl at them, and both felt that the bully “had it in for them.”

“He is bound to get square,” said Jack. “Pep, we must keep our eyes peeled.”