Don Gordon's Shooting-Box

“You are a pack of contemptible cowards,” said he, pulling off his gloves and slamming them down on the ice.

“Why, bless our royal heart, it’s the Planter!” exclaimed Tom Fisher, who now, for the first time, recognized the intruder. “Here’s luck, boys. Grab hold of him, some of you, and we’ll wash him too.”

“If that’s the Planter, this must be his brother,” said Dick Henderson.

“Why, so it is,” said Fisher, after he had taken a sharp look into Bert’s face. “Here’s more luck. Take hold of him too, boys; and since they have had the assurance to push themselves in among us without being asked, we will give them the post of honor. We’ll duck them first.”

In obedience to these orders three or four pairs of hands were laid upon Bert’s arms; but when the rest of the crowd moved forward to lay hold of Don, Duncan stepped up and stopped them.

“Stand back, all of you,” said he. “I want to have a little talk with this fellow before he is put into that air-hole. Gordon, you insulted me this morning in the presence of my friends, and I want you to apologize for it at once. If you don’t do it, I will give you a thrashing right here on this ice that you won’t get over for a month.”

“How did I insult you?” asked Don, and the bully was somewhat surprised to see that he did not appear to be at all alarmed.

“You said you would make a spread-eagle of me. Now, which will you do, apologize or fight?”

“Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll fight.”

Duncan was fairly staggered by this reply. Remembering the exhibition of strength he had witnessed in the gymnasium that afternoon, he had no desire to come to blows with the stalwart youth who stood before him. He had hoped to frighten an apology from Don, and when he found that he could not do it, he wished he had not been in such haste to make overtures of battle to him. But it was too late to think of that now, for his reputation was at stake. Besides he did not believe that his friend Fisher would stand by and see him worsted.

“You need have no fear of these fellows who are standing around,” said Duncan, who wanted to put off the critical moment as long as he could. “They will not double-team on you.”

“If they do they will take the consequences,” said Don, confidently. “I think myself that they had better keep their distance.”

These bold words astonished everybody.

“Why I believe he thinks he can whip the whole crowd,” said Henderson, who was one of the four who were holding fast to Bert’s arms. Bert was a little fellow, like himself, and consequently Dick was not very much afraid of him.

“Come on,” said Don, impatiently. “I am getting cold standing here in my shirt-sleeves. Give me a little exercise to warm me up. Remember I wasn’t born as near the Arctic Circle as you fellows were, and for that reason I can’t stand the cold as well. Hurry up, somebody —anybody who thinks he was insulted by the words I uttered this morning.”

Driven almost to desperation by this challenge, which he knew was addressed to himself, and which seemed to imply that his prospective antagonist placed a very low estimate upon his powers, Duncan pulled off both his coats, assumed a threatening attitude and advanced toward Don, who extended his hand in the most friendly manner. The bully, believing that Don wanted to parley with him, took the proffered hand in his own, and in a second more arose in the air as if an exceedingly strong spring had suddenly uncoiled itself under his feet. When he came down again he measured his full length on the ice, landing in such dangerous proximity to the hole that had been cut for the poor student’s benefit, that his uniform cap fell into it.

Everybody was struck motionless and dumb with amazement. The bully was so bewildered that he did not get upon his feet again immediately, and the poor student forgot to shiver.

CHAPTER IV

THE NEW YORK BOOT-BLACK

“Take your hands off those boys,” said Don, who was in just the right humor to make a scattering among Fisher’s crowd of friends. “Release them both and do it at once, or I will pitch the last one of you into that hole before you can say ‘General Jackson’ with your mouths open. Come over here, Bert.”

He stepped up and took the prisoner by the arm, and his four guards surrendered him without a word of protest. The magical manner in which Don had floored the biggest bully in school, before whom no boy in Bridgeport had ever been able to stand for a minute, either with boxing-gloves or bare fists, and the ease with which he had done it, astounded them. They had never seen anything like it before, and there was something very mysterious in it. Did not this backwoodsman have other equally bewildering tactics at his command which he could bring into play if he were crowded upon? Probably he had, and so the best thing they could do was to let him alone.

“Your name is Sam Arkwright, is it not?” said Don, taking one of the boy’s blue-cold hands in both his own warm ones. “I thought I had heard you answer to that name at roll-call. I am a plebe too, and so we’ll stand together. Put on these gloves and come with me. You will freeze if you stay here any longer. As for you,” he added, waving his hand toward the students to show that he included them all in the remarks he was about to make, “you are a pack of cowards, and I can whip the best man among you right here and now. Pick him out and let me take a look at him.”

“I am good for the best of them if they will come one at a time,” said Sam. “But I give in to a dozen when they all jump on me at once.”

“I will leave that challenge open,” said Don, as he led Sam away. “You know where my room is, and any little notes you may choose to shove under my door will receive prompt attention.”

Tom and his crowd did not speak; they had not yet recovered from their amazement. They stood gazing after the rescued boy and his champion until they disappeared in the darkness, and then they turned and looked at one another.

“I declare, Duncan,” exclaimed Tom Fisher, who was the first to speak. “You’ve met your master at last, have you not?”

The defeated bully growled out something in reply, but his friends could not understand what it was. Like every boy who prides himself upon his strength and skill, he did not like to acknowledge that he had been beaten.

“Did he hurt you?” asked one of the students. “I noticed that you didn’t get up right away.”

“How in the name of all that’s wonderful did he do it?” inquired another. “I didn’t see him clinch or strike you.”

“He did neither,” replied Duncan, “and that’s just what bangs me. I am willing to swear that he did not touch me anywhere except on the hand, and he took hold of that just as though he wanted to give it a friendly shake. It’s a trick of some kind – a boss one, too – and I will give him my next quarter’s spending money if he will teach it to me.”

“Humph!” exclaimed Tom Fisher. “You needn’t expect to him to do that. He doesn’t look to me to be such a fool. You and he may come together in earnest some day – if you don’t, he will be about the only boy you haven’t had a fight with since you have been a student at this academy – and then you will probably find out what his tricks are.”

“He didn’t hurt me at all,” continued Clarence; “but he could if he had been so disposed. If he had used a little more exertion he could have thrown me into that air-hole; and if I had happened to come up under the ice – ugh!” exclaimed Clarence, shivering all over as he looked down into the dark water.

“Is there no way in which we can get even with him?” asked Fisher.

“Is there!” replied Clarence, angrily. “Do you suppose that I am going to submit tamely to an insult like that? We’ll make a way to get even with him. Things have come to a pretty pass if a plebe is going to be allowed to come here and run this school to suit himself.”

The mere reference to such an unheard-of thing was enough to raise the ire of Tom Fisher and all his companions, who with one voice declared that the Planter, having presumed to lay violent hands on an upper-class boy, and to set at defiance one of the old-established customs of the academy, must be made to suffer the consequences. They held a long and earnest consultation there on the ice, and Fisher and Duncan, who were fruitful in expedients, soon hit upon a plan which promised, if skillfully managed, to bring Sam Arkwright’s champion into serious trouble. It was a most dangerous plan, because it was to be carried out under the guise of friendship.

“That’s the only way to do it, fellows, you may depend upon it,” said Duncan, after their scheme had been thoroughly discussed. “We must bring him into trouble with the faculty, and let them do the hazing, for we couldn’t do it if we wanted to. I was nothing but a child in his grasp, and, to tell the honest truth, I have no desire to face him again.”

“I hope we shall succeed,” said Fisher. “But if the Planter turns out to be one of those good little boys who never do anything wrong, then what?”

If Tom had only known it, he need not have bothered his head on this point. Unfortunately for Don, something happened that very night which made it comparatively easy for the conspirators to carry out the plans they had formed regarding him.

Meanwhile Don and Bert were walking briskly toward the academy in company with the rescued boy, who was somewhat protected from the keen wind by Bert’s muffler, which the latter had wrapped about his neck, and by Don’s gloves which he wore upon his hands. He was lost in admiration of his new friend’s prowess, and complimented him in the best language he could command.

“Are you an Irishman, sir?” Sam asked, at length.

“Look here,” answered Don, “my name is Gordon – there’s no ‘sir’ about it. No, I am not an Irishman. I am an American, I am proud to say; but I understand the Irish ‘hand and foot’ well enough to give it to such fellows as that Clarence Duncan. I can throw a man weighing two hundred pounds in that way if he will let me take hold of his hand.”

“It was well done,” said Sam. “I never saw it done better.”

“I learned it of one of my father’s hired men – a discharged Union soldier who came to our plantation penniless and hungry, and asked for work,” said Don. “I always make it a point to pick up any little thing of that kind that happens to fall in my way. It may come handy some day, you know.”

Perhaps you will now understand how Don had managed to throw the bully of the school so easily; but if you do not, we can only say that it cannot be described on paper so that you can gain even a faint idea of it. If you want to know just how it was done, the easiest way to learn is to ask some Irishman – the fresher he is from the old sod the better – to give you a practical illustration of the “hand and foot.” Simply give him your hand, and if his feelings toward you are friendly, he will send you flying through the air without hurting you in the least; but if he is not friendly, we would not advise you to go to him for information, for he can turn you heels up in an instant, and land you on your head with force enough to knock all your brains into your boots. Don had become so expert in this novel way of wrestling, and so prone to put it into practice at every opportunity, that none of the boys about Rochdale could be induced to shake hands with him.

“How did you ever happen to find your way to this school!” inquired Don, after Sam had exhausted his vocabulary in praising his new friend’s skill as a wrestler. “Were you really a New York boot-black?”

“Yes, I was,” answered Sam, hesitatingly.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of,” said Bert, who thought from the way Sam spoke that he did not like to confess that he had once occupied so lowly a position in the world.

“Of course not,” Don hastened to add. “Any honest work is honorable. Your presence here proves that you didn’t want to remain a boot-black all your days.”

“No, I didn’t. I was ambitious to be something better,” said Sam, who then went on to give Don and his brother a short history of his life. He said that his father, who followed the sea for a livelihood, had gone down with his vessel during a terrific storm off Cape Hatteras; that his mother had survived him but a few months; and that after her death a grasping landlord had seized all the household furniture as security for the rent that was due and unpaid, turning him (Sam) into the streets to shift for himself. He spent the days in roaming about the city, looking in vain for work, and his nights in a lumber-yard to which he had been invited by a friendly boot-black, who found free lodgings there every night, and who, seeing Sam’s forlorn condition, gave him a plate of soup to eat and furnished him with a plank to sleep on. Finding that work was not to be had, Sam at last ran in debt for a boot-black’s “kit,” which he procured from one of the fraternity who had saved money enough to open a corner peanut stand, and after a score or more of battles with boys whose “claims” he unwittingly “jumped,” he succeeded in establishing himself in front of a popular hotel in the city, where he was to be found early and late. It was there he met the Superintendent of the Bridgeport Military Academy, who patronized him twice every day, never failing to give him a quarter for each “shine,” or to spend a few minutes in conversation, with him after the boy’s work was completed.

From the day he was six years old up to the time his father was lost at sea, Sam attended the district school regularly; and as he was a very faithful student, and tried hard to learn, he knew more about books than boys of his age generally do. He felt that he was out of place among the ragged, ignorant little gamins with whom he was daily and hourly thrown in contact, and they, realizing that he was not one of them, and that he believed himself to be fitted for something better than the life of a boot-black, tormented him in every conceivable way. He was so often called upon to protect his brush and his box of blacking from the young rowdies who would have despoiled him of them, that he became an adept at fighting, and it is probable that he would have opened the eyes of Tom Fisher and his crowd, had they not pounced upon him while he was asleep, and overpowered him before he could raise a hand to defend himself.

“I am sure I don’t know what it was that made the Professor take a liking to me,” said Sam in conclusion, “but it was something; and when he asked me if I wouldn’t like to quit that miserable business and go to school and learn to be a civil or a mining engineer, I tell you it almost took my breath away. I jumped at the chance. I gave my kit to a boy who was too poor to buy one, and came out here; and I am very sorry for it. The fellows don’t want me here, and they didn’t want me in New York, either. I hope I shall some day find a place where I shall not be in everybody’s way.”

“Don’t get down-hearted,” said Don, taking one of his hands out of his pocket long enough to give Sam an encouraging slap on the back. “Of course your tuition is free?”

“Yes, everything is furnished me. If it wasn’t I couldn’t stay here, for I have no money to speak of. The boys in New York badgered me so, and ran such heavy opposition to me that I couldn’t earn enough to buy a warm suit of clothes.”

“You will have an abundance of them in a day or two,” said Don, “for our uniforms will be along by that time. You couldn’t get an education on better terms than the Professor offers it to you, could you? And so long as he is willing that you should stay here, you can well afford to let the fellows grumble to their hearts’ content. Show the Professor that you appreciate his kindness by doing your duty like a man, and look to me for help whenever you get into trouble. Now the next thing is something else,” added Don, as he and his companions came to a halt in front of the high picket-fence which inclosed the academy grounds. “Where’s your room, Sam?”

“I haven’t any yet. I sleep in the attic. The rooms on the floor occupied by our class are all taken except one. That has been used as a store-room, and as soon as it is cleared out I am to have it for my own.”

“Well, do you want the teachers to know anything about this night’s work?”

“Of course not,” returned Sam, who had all a decent boy’s horror of tale-bearing.

“Because, if you do,” continued Don, “you can walk up to one of the guards, let him report you for being outside the grounds without a pass, and when you are hauled over the coals for it, you can say that you were taken out against your will.”

“But I don’t want to say that,” answered Sam, quickly. “It would bring Tom and the rest into trouble. I have nothing against them, and I should be glad to be friends with them if they would only let me.”

“You’ll do to tie to,” said Don, approvingly. “Bert and I have a pass that will see us through all right; but what are you going to do? Do you think you can make your way to the attic without being seen by any of the sentries or floor guards?”

“Tom and his crowd brought me out without attracting the attention of any of them, and I don’t see why I can’t get back without being caught. At any rate I shall try my best. Good-night. I hope that neither of you will ever stand in need of such aid as you have rendered me to-night; but if you do, you may count on me every time.”

So saying Sam moved away in one direction, closely examining all the pickets on the fence as he went, and Don and Bert walked off in the other. When the latter arrived within sight of the main gate they were somewhat surprised to see that it was closed. The sound of their footsteps on the frosty snow quickly attracted the attention of the alert sentry, who came out of his box and demanded to know who they were and what they were doing there at that time of night.

“We belong to this academy,” replied Don, “and have a pass from the superintendent.”

“Corporal of the guard No. 4,” yelled the sentry; and the call was caught up and repeated by another sentinel who stood at the farther end of the academy, and finally reached the ears of the corporal, who was toasting his shins in front of a warm fire in the guard-room.

“What do you want the corporal for? Here’s our pass,” said Don; and taking the paper in question from his pocket he thrust it between the bars of the gate.

Still the sentry made no reply, nor did he seem to know that Don had spoken to him. He brought his musket to a “support,” and paced back and forth on the other side of the gate with slow and dignified steps. Don muttered something under his breath, and Bert believing that he was grumbling at the sentry for being so uncivil, laid his hand on his brother’s arm and said, in a low tone —

“Don’t be angry with him. Perhaps he is not allowed to talk while he is on duty.”

Don said nothing. He began to believe that he and Bert had unwittingly got themselves into trouble again, and when the corporal came up, he found that he had not been mistaken.

“What’s the matter here?” demanded the officer.

“There are a couple of plebes out there who want to come in,” was the sentry’s reply.

“Who are you?” said the corporal, peering through the pickets at the two brothers.

Don gave him their names; whereupon the corporal took a key down from a nail in the sentry’s box, and after unlocking the gate told the boys to come in. They obeyed, and the officer having returned the key to its place drew a note-book from his pocket and wrote something in it. “That’s all right,” said he, as he closed the book and put it back in his pocket.

“Have we done anything wrong?” inquired Bert, in anxious tones.

“You will find that out to-morrow,” was the corporal’s very unsatisfactory answer.

“Why can’t you give a civil reply to a civil question?” demanded Don, impatiently. “We had liberty to go outside the grounds for the evening, and here’s the pass that says so.”

“I don’t want to see it,” said the corporal, as he buttoned his overcoat and drew the cape over his head. “I know just how it reads. Come on.”

“Where are you going to take us?” asked Bert, while visions of the gloomy guard-house danced before his eyes.

“To the officer of the day, of course.”

“And what will he do with us?”

“That’s for him to tell. Come on. It’s too cold to stand here any longer.”

Don and Bert fell in behind the corporal, who led the way to the guard-room, and ushered them into a little office where the officer of the day – a stern old Prussian soldier who wore a medal he had won by his gallantry on the field of battle while serving under Prince Frederick Charles – sat reading a newspaper. When the non-commissioned officer entered with his prisoners he laid the paper down and took off his spectacles.

“Vel, gorporal,” said he, in a pompous tone, “vat ish the drouble mit dem gadets?”

“They have overstayed their time, sir,” said the corporal.

“Vot for you do dot?” demanded the officer of the day, turning fiercely upon the culprits. “Vot for you not come in, ha?”

“We were not aware that we had overstayed our time, sir,” answered Don. “If we had known that we were expected to return at a certain hour, we should have been here. We had a pass for the evening, and there it is.”

“Dot’s no good after daps,” said the officer of the day, turning away his head and waving his hand in the air to indicate that he did not care to look at the paper which Don presented for his inspection.

“I assure you, sir, that it was a mistake on our part,” said Bert.

But the officer of the day declared, in his broken English and with many gesticulations, that such things as mistakes were not recognized in that academy – that Don and his brother had violated the regulations and might make up their minds to be punished accordingly. Then he ordered them to their quarters, while the corporal went back to his seat by the stove.

“He didn’t say that we were in arrest, did he?” said Don, as he and Bert ascended the stairs, at the top of which they met the sentry who had charge of that floor, standing with his note-book in his hand.

“Your names, please,” said he, pleasantly.

“The corporal of the guard has them, and so has the officer of the day,” answered Don.

“And I must have them, too,” returned the sentry, holding his pencil poised, in the air.

Don gave the required information in rather a sullen tone, and closed the door of his dormitory behind him with no gentle hand. As soon as Bert had struck a light he drew the pass from his pocket and read as follows:

“Guards and patrols will pass privates Donald and Hubert Gordon until half-past nine o’clock this evening.”

Then he looked at his watch and saw that it lacked only a quarter of eleven. Allowing fifteen minutes for their interviews with the corporal and the officer of the day, they had overstayed their time just an hour. Bert was very penitent, but Don was inclined to be rebellious.

CHAPTER V

DON AND BERT HAVE VISITORS

“I wonder if a fellow can make a move in any direction without breaking some of the numerous rules of this school and being reported for it,” said Don, throwing his overcoat and cap spitefully down upon the bed. “I declare, Bert – ”

Just then the door opened and the sentry thrust his head into the room. “Put out that light, Plebe,” said he. “Two reports in one night make a tolerably bad showing, the first thing you know.”

“Catch hold of that gas-fixture and jerk it out of the wall,” exclaimed Don, as Bert hastened to obey the sentry’s order. “That makes twice it has got us into trouble.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” said the sentry, with a laugh. “You had better read the rules and regulations until you have them firmly fixed in your mind, and then, if you see fit to obey them to the very letter, you will have plain sailing.”

Don undressed in the dark and tumbled into bed, telling himself the while that he didn’t care a snap of his finger for the rules and regulations. He had not purposely violated any of them, and yet he had been severely reprimanded, and was yet to be punished as though he had been willfully disobedient.

“When the leopard can change his spots and the Ethiopian his skin, I shall believe that there is some hope for me,” said Don to himself, as he arranged his pillow and prepared to go to sleep. “But there doesn’t seem to be much now, for the harder I try to be good the more rows I get into. I would give something to know how Tom Fisher and his crowd came out, and whether or not Sam succeeded in getting back to his attic without being seen by the guards.”